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The nearly full moon was rising into the twilit sky by the time Randall pulled up outside Doc Brown’s house with the footsore and roped Glenn trundling along behind. The house was a quarter-mile from the towering finger of black rock and around five miles out of the town of Black Rock.
So, despite his weariness, Glenn hoped this distraction had delayed his return to town until tomorrow. Randall dragged Arnold from his horse. Arnold’s breathing was fitful and he was murmuring under his breath; his red face was clammy.
Randall let him lie on the ground while he released Glenn. Then, still holding on to Glenn’s rope, he and Glenn carried the semi-conscious man into the house. As they headed inside, blood was dribbling from a corner of Arnold’s mouth.
Sure enough, Doc Brown winced and directed Randall to place him on a table. The doctor touched his neck while he lifted an eyelid, frowning, and when he released him, Arnold’s head rolled back. While the doctor busied himself with collecting his equipment, Randall tugged on Glenn’s rope and signified that he should sit with his back to the wall.
“Who’s that you’ve got with you?” Brown asked as Glenn moved to comply.
“I’m surprised you don’t recognize him,” Randall said. “He used to live in Black Rock.”
Brown placed his black bag on the table beside Arnold and turned to Glenn. He narrowed his eyes and then widened them with a start, but Glenn spoke up before he could confirm he recognized him.
“Doc Brown, I remember you as being a decent man and whether you believe I did what everyone says I did or not, know this – I’ve served my time and I’m innocent of what Randall reckons I did this time.” Glenn stood up and tugged on his rope, giving himself enough leeway to stand away from Randall. “He has no right holding me but he’s gone and done it anyhow.”
Brown rubbed his jaw and blew out his cheeks. “Have you finished?”
“I have, aside from the fact that if you check out my story, you’ll see I have the best alibi a man could want for not doing anything Randall says I’ve done.”
“That’s interesting.” Brown turned to Randall and smiled. “You sure do bring in the lively ones.”
“Like it always has been, Alan,” Randall said. “And like it always will be.”
Glenn slumped to his knees, crestfallen. “You two are friends.”
“We sure are,” Brown said.
“And you picked the wrong man to bleat to,” Randall said as he slapped a firm hand on Glenn’s shoulder and pushed him back to a sitting position. “So I’ll be talking to you about that later.”
Brown chuckled under his breath as he opened his bag and laid out a row of knives and probes on the table.
“You wasted your breath on me, Glenn,” he said. “I don’t care who’s done right or who’s done wrong. If Sheriff Price reckons Randall has to bring you in, that’s good enough for me.”
“Why won’t nobody take sides or listen to me?” Glenn said, but Brown had turned his back on him.
With Randall turning his back on him, too, he found that he was talking to himself.
“What’s this one done?” Brown asked, prodding Arnold’s elbow and then working up to his shoulder.
“He tried to steal my prisoner. I’d be obliged if you can get him talking.”
Brown leaned over Arnold and parted his hair, murmuring to himself.
“I’ll get him talking as soon as I can, but he won’t be doing that any time soon. This man has had a severe blow to the head.”
Randall nodded and sat on the edge of Brown’s table.
“Then what about you? What do you know about Myron Cole’s death?”
“I don’t know much.” Brown opened his bag and removed a small bottle.
Randall rubbed his chin, considering. “Could somebody have taken revenge against a man who put a member of the Price family in prison?”
Brown paused from fussing over Arnold for long enough to provide a derisive snort.
“Things never change much in Black Rock. The Archer family still opposes the Prices, but nobody listens to them anymore. Nobody cares for Glenn either. They tried to lynch him fifteen years ago and there’s more chance of someone trying to do that again than anybody taking revenge on his behalf.”
Randall smiled. “You may not know anything, but I reckon you’ve got an idea.”
“It’s just a rumination. Three months ago old Adam Price died. The town needed a new mayor and Myron Cole decided to stand against Clyde Price.”
“Are you saying the Prices killed him?”
Brown shrugged. “I’m not saying nothing. It was just mighty convenient for them he died and now Clyde is sure to become the new mayor. Everybody says the new blood will strengthen the grip that family has on Black Rock.”
“Either way, I’m getting to hear the Price name too often for my liking.”
Brown nodded and then shooed Randall away. “Now, keep quiet and keep out of way, I have a bullet wound to dress and some serious thinking to do about this head wound.”
Randall pushed himself off the table and took a pace toward the nearest open door.
“We’ll wait in your other room. You’ve got chairs in there and—”
“Give me room and peace by waiting in the barn. I don’t want that Price in my house any longer than I have to.” Brown darted a finger at Glenn and then at the door. Then he sighed and replaced his stern expression and sudden burst of anger with a smile. “Just secure him there. You can wait in here, but he can’t.”
Randall stayed until Brown started work and then led Glenn outside.
“It seems you’re not welcome anywhere,” he said as he led him to the barn.
“I’m not welcome in Black Rock, that’s for sure.”
“Does that mean you’re welcome elsewhere with friends who’d help you?”
“Yeah, that’s. . . .” Glenn snorted as Randall pushed him through the barn door and then turned around. “You’re trying to get me to admit I have friends who’d help me out. Perhaps I have, but they aren’t in Black Rock and I sure didn’t get anyone to kill Myron Cole.”
“As you’ve said.” Randall secured him to the central post in the barn. Then he paced three steps away and folded his arms. “Arnold’s distraction has bought you one last night to think things through, but if you don’t do yourself some mighty sensible thinking, tomorrow I’ll be taking you in to Black Rock and then—”
Outside, a gunshot blasted, the noise near but muffled. Then another shot and a raised voice sounded. Randall confirmed that Glenn was the only person in the barn. Then he rechecked his bonds and headed to the barn door.
Glenn edged to the side to the maximum extent of his rope and presently Arnold galloped by. He fired sideways, his wild shot tearing through the open barn door before scything into the dirt ten feet to Glenn’s side.
Glenn scurried for safety behind the post as Randall hurried outside, skidded to a halt and tore off several quick shots at the fleeing rider. He quickly desisted and sped to his horse, his downcast gaze and firm-set jaw confirming what had happened. Arnold Jameson had been feigning his injuries and now he’d escaped.
––––––––
At sunup, Doc Brown provided Glenn and Randall with breakfast in the barn. Glenn again tried to convince the doctor that Randall had no good reason to take him in to Black Rock, but Brown refused even to enter into conversation with him so Glenn relented.
Instead, Brown and Randall discussed the events of last night. Their sparse chat avoided giving Glenn too many details, but from the snippets of conversation he overheard, Glenn pieced together what had happened.
Even before Doc Brown had dressed Arnold’s shoulder wound, Arnold had come to faster than his demeanor of the last few hours had suggested he could. He had knocked out the doctor and escaped.
Randall had pursued him, but returned within the hour, the thick clouds that had spread across the night sky until they obscured the moon not letting him follow Arnold’s trail in the dark. From the gruff tone in the voices of both men as they discussed these events, Glenn judged that Randall didn’t blame Brown and that this event wouldn’t threaten their friendship.
In fact both men were worried about the other’s reaction to an uncomfortable situation. When they’d eaten, Brown returned to his house, and he didn’t emerge when they prepared to move out.
Glenn also reckoned that Brown wasn’t to blame, as clearly Arnold had been more devious than Randall had given him credit for, but Randall’s firm jaw and narrowed eyes suggested to Glenn that commenting on this wouldn’t be taken well. Accordingly, Glenn stayed quiet as Randall again secured him and made him walk behind his horse.
They headed to the trail and then along the railroad tracks as they approached Black Rock. Glenn was mentally preparing himself for a homecoming he never thought he’d have to suffer when, two miles out of town, Randall veered to the side and proceeded up a hill. With a start, Glenn realized where they were heading.
“What are you going to my home for?” he asked.
“I’m giving you that last chance to tell me something interesting before you can start panicking,” Randall said.
“I’ve got no. . . .”
Glenn gulped. Ahead of him, his old home was edging into view from behind the rounded hill that he and Katie had often run up and down when he was younger. He’d never expected, or wanted, to visit this place again, but now that he was, a bitter combination of memories and regret assailed him as he tried to imagine the approaching building as it had been before fifteen years of neglect had destroyed it.
On a patch of bare earth before the ruined house, Randall dismounted and Glenn followed him through the gap that had once been a door. The roof had gone, the roof struts being more valuable and so worth stealing than the small amount of furniture they’d possessed. Sure enough the remnants of that furniture still littered the floor, smashed and rotted beyond recognition.
“You look thoughtful,” Randall said, without a trace of mockery in his tone.
“Yeah,” Glenn said. “I left this place after finding Pa’s body and I haven’t been back since.”
“Then the memories will be as fresh as they ever were. Tell me what happened. Leave nothing out, and if it includes something that tells me who killed Myron Cole, you can go.”
Randall’s blank expression showed no malice and it perhaps held a promise that he wouldn’t double-cross him.
“I’d gone to see Matlock Langhorne and when I came back, I found my father lying dead, just there.”
Glenn pointed at a spot four feet from a crumbling inner wall. Randall walked across the room until he was standing on the spot where Glenn had stood fifteen years ago. Randall hunkered down and fingered the dirt.
“Your home must have been different then.”
“Yeah. There was a cabinet to your side. Father had built it and was mighty proud of it.”
Randall turned to the heap of rotted wood to his left.
“It looks like there’s a smashed table here and maybe chairs there, but no cabinet.”
Glenn shrugged. “Somebody must have stolen it.”
“Perhaps they did. What else do you remember?”
“I found him lying dead where you’re kneeling with his head smashed in. I came over, cradled his head, got blood all over me, and Myron saw me. He ran off to town, and I followed to tell Katie what I’d found, but Myron had told everyone I’d killed him. I told Katie he was wrong, but Myron had worked everyone up, and I ran.”
“You ran,” Randall intoned. “And you kept on running until I found you.”
“Running doesn’t mean I was guilty.”
“What Myron said did. He said you and John were fighting and that you were laughing as you killed him.”
Glenn walked around on the spot to face toward town. Myron’s smithy was close to the tracks, just out of his view. He searched for any hatred of Myron for telling what at the time had sounded like spiteful lies, but found none. He had been in shock when he’d found the body and he found it hard to recall all his actions, and he guessed it might have been the same for Myron.
“I have no idea what he might have thought he saw and heard.”
“Why did he come here?”
“I don’t know.”
“And your feelings when you found the body?”
“I was shocked, if that’s what you mean.” Glenn paced back and forth and when he spoke it was more to himself than to Randall. “Katie and me came out to Black Rock on the orphan train. We were supposed to go to god-fearing families and we almost went to Adam Price.”
“Perhaps things might have been different if you had.”
“Yeah, Adam hadn’t had children but then his wife died and he remarried. She gave him children: Clyde and then Emerson, but like his brother’s first wife, John’s wife couldn’t provide children and that had soured them both. When she died, he turned to drink, but we still loved him and hoped he’d come out of the bad times.”
Randall nodded. “Who do you reckon killed him?”
“I have no idea. We had no enemies and we had nothing to steal.”
“Except a cabinet that your father died beside.”
“Yeah, but. . . .” Glenn narrowed his eyes. “What are you saying?”
“Perhaps somebody wanted the cabinet, or what was in the cabinet.”
“There was nothing in. . . .” Glenn shrugged and then walked across the room to stand beside Randall. He hunkered down, taking the position he had assumed fifteen years ago and trying to envisage that day. A flashed memory came to him of him kneeling here and he nodded. “The cabinet door had swung open, and he lay with a hand pointing toward it.”
He hoped Randall would say something else that’d jog his fading memory of that day. Clues as to who had killed his father were locked away in his mind and perhaps would never emerge. As if to taunt him even more, that long-suppressed need to find who was responsible was hammering at his mind again.
“Have you got anything more?” Randall asked, his question snapping Glenn out of his pondering.
“No, and I guess nothing will ever come to me if this place can’t drag it out.”
Randall nodded, an emotion flashing in his eyes, perhaps regret.
“Then I have no choice but to take you in.”
Randall took hold of his arm and led him through the door. At first, the shock of revisiting his former home numbed Glenn, but when they reached the horse, he struggled. In response Randall gripped him even more tightly and checked his bonds.
“Don’t do this, Randall,” Glenn said.
“I’ve got no choice.”
“You’ve got plenty. You must want something more than a mere two hundred and fifty dollars. Is that worth a man’s life? Stand up for something more than just—”
“Quit babbling!” Randall said, raising a hand as if to strike Glenn.
Then he lowered his hand, a twitch contorting his features as if he really did hate the thought of mistreating a prisoner, or perhaps he did feel regret for what he was about to do. With Glenn staying quiet, he mounted up.
At a steady pace, they headed down the side of the hill to ride alongside the tracks. Glenn kept his head down as they swung past Myron’s smithy. There were no more buildings before they’d reach Black Rock and Glenn didn’t hold out much hope that he would go unnoticed for much longer.
“I’m not babbling when I say I’m innocent,” he said.
“That’s not my problem,” Randall said. “I’m no lawman, I just—”
“—bring them in for the bounty.” Glenn struggled against his bonds, but found no give and had no choice but to relent. “Even if you don’t care about me, you have to admit that taking me into town, hoping my presence will shake the truth out of someone, is looking for trouble.”
“Yeah, and I never shy away from that.”
At a walking pace they soon closed on the first buildings and, as the town opened up before him, it was clear that it had expanded in the years since he had been away. The railroad had arrived a year before he’d gone to prison, and back then the town had been bursting out in all directions, rough buildings going up with frantic speed. Now, the town had the solid authority his father had reckoned it would have one day.
“What do you reckon Sheriff Price will do with me?” Glenn asked, voicing his concern despite his determination not to.
“He’ll arrest you,” Randall said, without turning. “Then you’ll get your day in court, like last time.”
“What chance did I have then? Adam Price picked the jury, and Judge Mitchell was in his pay.”
“Adam spoke up for you. If he hadn’t, you’d have swung.”
Glenn snorted. “Fifteen years in Melrose for a crime I didn’t commit doesn’t make me feel right disposed to my adoptive family’s memory.”
“What about Myron Cole?”
“You won’t let this go, will you? I am an innocent man. I was breaking rocks when Myron died and there isn’t no way you can explain that fact away.”
Randall shrugged. “You may not have pulled the trigger, but perhaps you got someone else to do it.”
“Perhaps, you said perhaps. Up until now you’ve said I did it or you don’t care, but now I reckon you’re having second thoughts about this. Don’t—”
“Be quiet!” Randall snorted his breath and gestured at the first building, now just twenty paces ahead of them. “This is your last chance, Glenn, for you to tell me what you know.”
“I’ve told you everything I know.”
“Then tell me what you don’t know.”
“What do you mean?”
Randall turned in the saddle to face Glenn while still riding on. Urgency quickened his voice as he barked his demands.
“I mean start talking. If you don’t know who killed your father fifteen years ago and why somebody has now killed the principal witness, tell me what you suspect. Tell me who hated other people. Tell me something, anything, but unless you give me a clue, I’m heading into Black Rock.”
Glenn searched his memory, hoping to come up with something that’d intrigue Randall, but his mind remained blank.
“I can’t help you,” he said.
Randall flashed a harsh smile. Then he turned in the saddle and yanked on Glenn’s rope, dragging him on.
“Then I reckon this is one homecoming you won’t enjoy.”