Post by pagetwo on Dec 10, 2010 20:28:45 GMT -4
"I would like to see the judge."
"Do you have an appointment?" Jarrod was no longer in any mood for protocol and pushed the door open wide as he stepped passed the sour looking housekeeper. "Tell the judge I’m here and we need to talk."
"He is indisposed at the moment."
"Really?" Jarrod noticed a ladies rose velvet handbag and gloves sitting next to the flower vase on the table. "Relative or has the mistress moved in?"
"I think you better leave."
"Not until I see the judge." Jarrod removed his hat and sat in a nearby chair.
"Very well, I will tell him you’re here." She moved past Jarrod and slid the doors open to the living room. Once inside she slid them closed. Jarrod waited and then a pretty young brunette emerged, adjusting her hat and tucking in some tendrils of loose hair. She then picked up her bag and gloves, glanced at Jarrod, winked, and left by the front door.
"The judge will see you now."
"Now, that wasn’t so difficult was it?" the housekeeper threw her head up and walked past him toward the kitchen.
"Come in Mr. Barkley."
"Your honor."
"We’re not in court and you’re not trying a case before me. Lets drop the formality, shall we and call me Malcom."
"As you wish." Malcom shut the doors behind Jarrod.
"Please, sit down."
"Thank you."
"That was my niece."
"I see." Jarrod didn’t believe a word.
"Drink?"
"Yes, please."
"What can I do for you?" Suddenly there was a commotion outside in the entryway. As the ruckus grew louder, the voices of the housekeeper and a man escalated. The man sounded drunk. Just then the doors flew open and Charles Tyson, covered with snow, stumbled into the room. Judge Lansbury slammed his drink down on the bar."What on earth?" Charles Tyson hung in the doorway.
"I see they failed," he said, staring at Jarrod. Jarrod looked puzzled then locked eyes with the judge. Charles looked pale as he swayed into the room, almost stumbling and fell into a nearby chair. He sat for a moment without saying a word then leaning over he put his face in his hands. "Charles, what is the matter with you?" Jarrod laid down his drink and approached Charles.
"Why did you look at me just now when you said they failed?" Charles slowly raised his head, looking at the judge and avoiding eye contact with Jarrod.
"Answer him." Charles sensed Jarrods eyes riveted on him. He hesitated before looking at Jarrod whose gaze was solid and cold.
"There was a man on the train with you earlier."
"And?"
"He was supposed to kill you. Make it look like an accident. But I see you’re still here." Jarrod glanced at the judge who turned away.
"There was a man who followed me to the smoking car. He stopped me on the platform and wanted a match. I felt a firm hand on my back but another gentleman came out at that moment and scared him away."
"It was supposed to look like an accident."
"Like all the other accidents." Charles looked away.
"There’s more."
"What?" asked the judge.
"Jack Kane is dead." Charles began rubbing his hands together, more from nervousness than cold. Nervous habits often masked the cowardice Charles felt inside.
"Kane is dead? How?"
"Someone shot him."
"Do you know who?" asked Jarrod. Charles shook his head, staring at the floor. "I never wanted any of this to happen, I swear."
"You should have thought of that a long time ago. It’s too late now."
"What is going on?" asked Jarrod.
"Tell him, Charles."
"No...no you tell it better than me." The judge was clearly disgusted.
"Listen, you little worm. You are nothing but a parasite, living off other people’s money and now most of that has run out and now you’re not man enough to admit your part in this whole mess." Charles ran his fingers through the wet dark ringlets of hair.
"He gave Jack Kane and his associates refuge here. I didn’t know at the time that Juliet knew Jack back in Washington and they had been lovers."
"Part of what?"
"She was a close friend of Mary Suratt and that my wife, along with Kane, Joseph Fletcher, also known as Marshall Brady, and others were involved in the plot to assassinate Abraham Lincoln." Jarrod’s eyes widened. "Charles protected them in exchange for murdering his grandfather. That was no accident, he was pushed down the stairs. Charles protected them and I protected Juliet. After awhile I began to wonder about her frequent trips to San Francisco to see her ailing aunt and cousin. No such people ever existed. She had been seeing Kane and it was far worse than just a rekindled love affair. She was working for him. He ran a company of hired assassins, a murder incorporated."
"That would explain all the accidents." The judge nodded, then leaned on the fireplace mantle, gazing into the burning glow of the fire. Jarrod sat down, taking a deep breath while Charles sat in shameful silence.
"I discovered the awful truth when Sarah Taylor was murdered."
"Who murdered her?"
"Juliet had been there that evening. She and Sarah fought and she hit Sarah. Lawrence walked in on them and broke up the fight. Juliet left and Lawrence and Sarah continued to argue until he choked her and drowned her in the bathtub. Realizing what he had done, he panicked. Juliet turned back and found Lawrence in shock and they both concocted the story to pin it on his niece, Katherine."
"And you knew all this and didn’t do anything about it?"
"I can’t tell you the shame I feel for robbing that girl of ten years of her life."
"That’s putting it mildly."
"Kane was power hungry, had this town in his grip, thanks to Charles."
"Stop blaming me."
"Kane plotted with Lawrence’s campaign manager to assassinate the senator whose seat Lawrence was vying for."
"Joseph Fletcher, Marshall Brady and your wife assassinated him at the theatre." The judge nodded. "Who else in involved?"
"I don’t know." They both noticed that Charles had left the room. Unexpectedly, a loud explosion of gunfire was heard outside. Jarrod and the judge ran for the front door. Just as they got there the housekeeper stood in the doorway, screaming. Jarrod brushed past her and down the steps. He stopped suddenly. At his feet was Charles, lying in a snow bank, blood draining from him, trickling down and pooling and staining the snow near his head. Jarrod knelt down to feel a pulse but found none. The judge stood over them. Jarrod looked up and shook his head.
"I’ll take care of it. Go find Katherine." Both looked at the lifeless body curled up in the snow. The last vestiges of a who was unable to live with others mistakes and too much of a coward to live with his own destruction.
Jarrod found Katherine in town where she’d been looking for him. While heading back to Stanton Winthrop’s place, he told her the truth of what had happened to her aunt.
"I never would have believed that Uncle Lawrence could have done it."
"Well, he did and was going to let you rot in prison for it. That’s quite a family you have, warm and fuzzy all over." Just then a shot rang out and Katherine clutched her arm, falling into Jarrod who was looking over his shoulder to see where the shot had come from when another shot exploded in the air. Jarrod felt this one whiz by his head and graze him. The horse now picked up speed but could not go any faster in the deepening snow. "Jump."
"I can’t."
"You have to. Hold onto my hand." She clutched Jarrod’s hand but was unable to bring herself to jump from the speeding carriage. "Trust me." She glanced down at the ground rapidly moving past them.
"I’m afraid." Another shot was heard and Jarrod held her hand tight and pulled her along with him to the ground. They tumbled down a hillside and slid into each other. They watched as the carriage disappeared into the white curtain of snow in the horizon.
"Now what do we do?" They were hidden by the hillside but Jarrod knew they had to get help. He looked at Katherine’s arm, which was still bleeding. They both stood up when Jarrod realized he must have sprained his ankle and was unable to walk. He lost his balance and leaned into Katherine who held onto him.
Another shot was fired and they hit the ground as the bullet whizzed past them overhead. Jarrod grasped her hand and managed to rise to his feet. Pulling her along, he limped toward some nearby rocks and bushes. They remained quiet, listening. Two more shots rang out but coming from a different direction. Jarrod looked up over the edge of the rock through the brush. It was quiet again and stayed quiet for the what seemed long time to the two of them.
"We need to get help."
"I know but whoever is shooting at us will get us if we try to go back to the road."
"Wait...I hear something." Jarrod saw a rock out of the corner of his eye. Sliding his hand toward it, he grasped it and held onto it, tightening his grip. They could hear someone or something trudging through the snow. Katherine held her breath. They sensed whoever it was, was coming closer. A twig snapped. Jarrod clutched the rock, rose to his feet, holding his balance on one leg and raised the rock up above his head.
"Hey! Watch it, it’s just me." Jarrod dropped the rock, relieved to see Fiona.
"Who was shooting at us?" Fiona helped Katherine up off the ground as Jarrod leaned on her.
"Brady."
"Marshall Brady? But he died in that fire in San Francisco."
"I guess not. I can’t say for sure he’s dead this time either but I gave it my best shot, no pun intended. Come on, I’ll get you back to town and the doctor."
"No, Stanton’s ranch is not far, let’s go there and then you can ride back for the doctor."
"Alright, then come on, we’re losing daylight."
Stanton sent William into town for the doctor while Fiona bandaged Katherine’s arm. Stanton handed Jarrod a whiskey by the fire.
"The story is too fantastic. How did Kane get away with it for so long?"
"Come on, you need some rest, I’ll help you upstairs." Fiona guided Katherine out of the room.
"I’m surprised you didn’t know anything about what was going on?"
"Do you think I would have just turned my back on it and not done something?"
"I hope not."
"Ben Crenshaw knew but would never tell. I guess he like all the others was afraid of Kane and Brady. Kane’s dead now so it should be all over."
"I never told you Kane was dead. How did you know he was dead. The judge and I just found out."
"Uh, Fiona told me."
"I was in the room the entire time, she never told you anything. She also said she chased the killer as he fled Jack’s place. That was probably Brady but someone hit her on the head."
"Surely, you don’t think it was me. I just told you I had nothing to do with all this." Just then the French doors to the veranda swung open, blowing the curtains up into the air, billowing forward and back as they came to a rest. Stanton went to close the door when Marshall Brady entered through the door, gun drawn, shutting the door behind him. Blood stained his shirt on his side.
"Hello Stan."
"Marshall."
"I see you do know each other," said Jarrod.
"Why? What did he tell you?"
"Said he wasn’t involved."
"Oh, Stan you are such a liar. You’re better than all of us. Jack didn’t own the company, Stan did. We all worked for Stan." Jarrod saw a nearby statuette. Trying not be obvious, his fingers glided across the table next to him as if he were reaching for his drink and he grabbed the statuette and threw it at Brady. The statuette slammed into Brady’s head as he dropped the gun. Stanton reached for the gun while Brady held his head, blood trickling down between his fingers. Stanton pointed the gun at Brady.
"I know what to do with you." He then looked over his shoulder at Jarrod. "But you, you’re another problem." Brady lunged for the gun, trying to wrestle it from Brady. Both grappled with it while Jarrod limped for the door. The gun then discharged. Jarrod stopped and looked at the two men for a moment. Brady, crumpled to his knees then fell over and remained motionless on the floor. Stanton stood for a moment then turned toward Jarrod, the gun pointed at him.
"I’m unarmed and there are people in the house."
"Brady killed you and I killed Brady. Isn’t that neat?" Jarrod stared at him.
"Drop it." Fiona walked in, her rifle trained on Stanton. Stanton wheeled around and fired. Fiona ducked and fired upwards. Stanton fell backwards, discharging the gun one last time. Jarrod sighed.
"You alright?"
"I am now unless there is something I don’t know about William or the housekeeper."
"I’ll protect you." Fiona and Jarrod laughed as she helped into the chair by the fire.
"Do you have an appointment?" Jarrod was no longer in any mood for protocol and pushed the door open wide as he stepped passed the sour looking housekeeper. "Tell the judge I’m here and we need to talk."
"He is indisposed at the moment."
"Really?" Jarrod noticed a ladies rose velvet handbag and gloves sitting next to the flower vase on the table. "Relative or has the mistress moved in?"
"I think you better leave."
"Not until I see the judge." Jarrod removed his hat and sat in a nearby chair.
"Very well, I will tell him you’re here." She moved past Jarrod and slid the doors open to the living room. Once inside she slid them closed. Jarrod waited and then a pretty young brunette emerged, adjusting her hat and tucking in some tendrils of loose hair. She then picked up her bag and gloves, glanced at Jarrod, winked, and left by the front door.
"The judge will see you now."
"Now, that wasn’t so difficult was it?" the housekeeper threw her head up and walked past him toward the kitchen.
"Come in Mr. Barkley."
"Your honor."
"We’re not in court and you’re not trying a case before me. Lets drop the formality, shall we and call me Malcom."
"As you wish." Malcom shut the doors behind Jarrod.
"Please, sit down."
"Thank you."
"That was my niece."
"I see." Jarrod didn’t believe a word.
"Drink?"
"Yes, please."
"What can I do for you?" Suddenly there was a commotion outside in the entryway. As the ruckus grew louder, the voices of the housekeeper and a man escalated. The man sounded drunk. Just then the doors flew open and Charles Tyson, covered with snow, stumbled into the room. Judge Lansbury slammed his drink down on the bar."What on earth?" Charles Tyson hung in the doorway.
"I see they failed," he said, staring at Jarrod. Jarrod looked puzzled then locked eyes with the judge. Charles looked pale as he swayed into the room, almost stumbling and fell into a nearby chair. He sat for a moment without saying a word then leaning over he put his face in his hands. "Charles, what is the matter with you?" Jarrod laid down his drink and approached Charles.
"Why did you look at me just now when you said they failed?" Charles slowly raised his head, looking at the judge and avoiding eye contact with Jarrod.
"Answer him." Charles sensed Jarrods eyes riveted on him. He hesitated before looking at Jarrod whose gaze was solid and cold.
"There was a man on the train with you earlier."
"And?"
"He was supposed to kill you. Make it look like an accident. But I see you’re still here." Jarrod glanced at the judge who turned away.
"There was a man who followed me to the smoking car. He stopped me on the platform and wanted a match. I felt a firm hand on my back but another gentleman came out at that moment and scared him away."
"It was supposed to look like an accident."
"Like all the other accidents." Charles looked away.
"There’s more."
"What?" asked the judge.
"Jack Kane is dead." Charles began rubbing his hands together, more from nervousness than cold. Nervous habits often masked the cowardice Charles felt inside.
"Kane is dead? How?"
"Someone shot him."
"Do you know who?" asked Jarrod. Charles shook his head, staring at the floor. "I never wanted any of this to happen, I swear."
"You should have thought of that a long time ago. It’s too late now."
"What is going on?" asked Jarrod.
"Tell him, Charles."
"No...no you tell it better than me." The judge was clearly disgusted.
"Listen, you little worm. You are nothing but a parasite, living off other people’s money and now most of that has run out and now you’re not man enough to admit your part in this whole mess." Charles ran his fingers through the wet dark ringlets of hair.
"He gave Jack Kane and his associates refuge here. I didn’t know at the time that Juliet knew Jack back in Washington and they had been lovers."
"Part of what?"
"She was a close friend of Mary Suratt and that my wife, along with Kane, Joseph Fletcher, also known as Marshall Brady, and others were involved in the plot to assassinate Abraham Lincoln." Jarrod’s eyes widened. "Charles protected them in exchange for murdering his grandfather. That was no accident, he was pushed down the stairs. Charles protected them and I protected Juliet. After awhile I began to wonder about her frequent trips to San Francisco to see her ailing aunt and cousin. No such people ever existed. She had been seeing Kane and it was far worse than just a rekindled love affair. She was working for him. He ran a company of hired assassins, a murder incorporated."
"That would explain all the accidents." The judge nodded, then leaned on the fireplace mantle, gazing into the burning glow of the fire. Jarrod sat down, taking a deep breath while Charles sat in shameful silence.
"I discovered the awful truth when Sarah Taylor was murdered."
"Who murdered her?"
"Juliet had been there that evening. She and Sarah fought and she hit Sarah. Lawrence walked in on them and broke up the fight. Juliet left and Lawrence and Sarah continued to argue until he choked her and drowned her in the bathtub. Realizing what he had done, he panicked. Juliet turned back and found Lawrence in shock and they both concocted the story to pin it on his niece, Katherine."
"And you knew all this and didn’t do anything about it?"
"I can’t tell you the shame I feel for robbing that girl of ten years of her life."
"That’s putting it mildly."
"Kane was power hungry, had this town in his grip, thanks to Charles."
"Stop blaming me."
"Kane plotted with Lawrence’s campaign manager to assassinate the senator whose seat Lawrence was vying for."
"Joseph Fletcher, Marshall Brady and your wife assassinated him at the theatre." The judge nodded. "Who else in involved?"
"I don’t know." They both noticed that Charles had left the room. Unexpectedly, a loud explosion of gunfire was heard outside. Jarrod and the judge ran for the front door. Just as they got there the housekeeper stood in the doorway, screaming. Jarrod brushed past her and down the steps. He stopped suddenly. At his feet was Charles, lying in a snow bank, blood draining from him, trickling down and pooling and staining the snow near his head. Jarrod knelt down to feel a pulse but found none. The judge stood over them. Jarrod looked up and shook his head.
"I’ll take care of it. Go find Katherine." Both looked at the lifeless body curled up in the snow. The last vestiges of a who was unable to live with others mistakes and too much of a coward to live with his own destruction.
Jarrod found Katherine in town where she’d been looking for him. While heading back to Stanton Winthrop’s place, he told her the truth of what had happened to her aunt.
"I never would have believed that Uncle Lawrence could have done it."
"Well, he did and was going to let you rot in prison for it. That’s quite a family you have, warm and fuzzy all over." Just then a shot rang out and Katherine clutched her arm, falling into Jarrod who was looking over his shoulder to see where the shot had come from when another shot exploded in the air. Jarrod felt this one whiz by his head and graze him. The horse now picked up speed but could not go any faster in the deepening snow. "Jump."
"I can’t."
"You have to. Hold onto my hand." She clutched Jarrod’s hand but was unable to bring herself to jump from the speeding carriage. "Trust me." She glanced down at the ground rapidly moving past them.
"I’m afraid." Another shot was heard and Jarrod held her hand tight and pulled her along with him to the ground. They tumbled down a hillside and slid into each other. They watched as the carriage disappeared into the white curtain of snow in the horizon.
"Now what do we do?" They were hidden by the hillside but Jarrod knew they had to get help. He looked at Katherine’s arm, which was still bleeding. They both stood up when Jarrod realized he must have sprained his ankle and was unable to walk. He lost his balance and leaned into Katherine who held onto him.
Another shot was fired and they hit the ground as the bullet whizzed past them overhead. Jarrod grasped her hand and managed to rise to his feet. Pulling her along, he limped toward some nearby rocks and bushes. They remained quiet, listening. Two more shots rang out but coming from a different direction. Jarrod looked up over the edge of the rock through the brush. It was quiet again and stayed quiet for the what seemed long time to the two of them.
"We need to get help."
"I know but whoever is shooting at us will get us if we try to go back to the road."
"Wait...I hear something." Jarrod saw a rock out of the corner of his eye. Sliding his hand toward it, he grasped it and held onto it, tightening his grip. They could hear someone or something trudging through the snow. Katherine held her breath. They sensed whoever it was, was coming closer. A twig snapped. Jarrod clutched the rock, rose to his feet, holding his balance on one leg and raised the rock up above his head.
"Hey! Watch it, it’s just me." Jarrod dropped the rock, relieved to see Fiona.
"Who was shooting at us?" Fiona helped Katherine up off the ground as Jarrod leaned on her.
"Brady."
"Marshall Brady? But he died in that fire in San Francisco."
"I guess not. I can’t say for sure he’s dead this time either but I gave it my best shot, no pun intended. Come on, I’ll get you back to town and the doctor."
"No, Stanton’s ranch is not far, let’s go there and then you can ride back for the doctor."
"Alright, then come on, we’re losing daylight."
Stanton sent William into town for the doctor while Fiona bandaged Katherine’s arm. Stanton handed Jarrod a whiskey by the fire.
"The story is too fantastic. How did Kane get away with it for so long?"
"Come on, you need some rest, I’ll help you upstairs." Fiona guided Katherine out of the room.
"I’m surprised you didn’t know anything about what was going on?"
"Do you think I would have just turned my back on it and not done something?"
"I hope not."
"Ben Crenshaw knew but would never tell. I guess he like all the others was afraid of Kane and Brady. Kane’s dead now so it should be all over."
"I never told you Kane was dead. How did you know he was dead. The judge and I just found out."
"Uh, Fiona told me."
"I was in the room the entire time, she never told you anything. She also said she chased the killer as he fled Jack’s place. That was probably Brady but someone hit her on the head."
"Surely, you don’t think it was me. I just told you I had nothing to do with all this." Just then the French doors to the veranda swung open, blowing the curtains up into the air, billowing forward and back as they came to a rest. Stanton went to close the door when Marshall Brady entered through the door, gun drawn, shutting the door behind him. Blood stained his shirt on his side.
"Hello Stan."
"Marshall."
"I see you do know each other," said Jarrod.
"Why? What did he tell you?"
"Said he wasn’t involved."
"Oh, Stan you are such a liar. You’re better than all of us. Jack didn’t own the company, Stan did. We all worked for Stan." Jarrod saw a nearby statuette. Trying not be obvious, his fingers glided across the table next to him as if he were reaching for his drink and he grabbed the statuette and threw it at Brady. The statuette slammed into Brady’s head as he dropped the gun. Stanton reached for the gun while Brady held his head, blood trickling down between his fingers. Stanton pointed the gun at Brady.
"I know what to do with you." He then looked over his shoulder at Jarrod. "But you, you’re another problem." Brady lunged for the gun, trying to wrestle it from Brady. Both grappled with it while Jarrod limped for the door. The gun then discharged. Jarrod stopped and looked at the two men for a moment. Brady, crumpled to his knees then fell over and remained motionless on the floor. Stanton stood for a moment then turned toward Jarrod, the gun pointed at him.
"I’m unarmed and there are people in the house."
"Brady killed you and I killed Brady. Isn’t that neat?" Jarrod stared at him.
"Drop it." Fiona walked in, her rifle trained on Stanton. Stanton wheeled around and fired. Fiona ducked and fired upwards. Stanton fell backwards, discharging the gun one last time. Jarrod sighed.
"You alright?"
"I am now unless there is something I don’t know about William or the housekeeper."
"I’ll protect you." Fiona and Jarrod laughed as she helped into the chair by the fire.