Shot to hell, p.11
Shot to Hell, page 11
Ernest closed his eyes, seemingly struggling to stay awake and leaving Saul to gesture angrily at Brett.
“The letters didn’t say anything conclusive.”
“The ones you found didn’t.” Brett waited until that comment made Saul’s mouth fall open in shock. Then he chuckled. “Ernest, and any kin of his, might not be in line to inherit the whole stockyard, but they’ll still get a mighty tempting amount of money.”
“To you it may be tempting, but not to me. I don’t want—”
“I don’t care what you want! I wasted twelve years bringing you up and even if I have to wait another twelve years before someone puts a bullet in that so-called lawman, I will get what I deserve.”
Saul shrugged. “It sounds to me that in that case I’ll get the money, not you.”
“You’ll do right by me, one way or the other.”
The two men faced each other. Saul rocked forward on to his toes, looking as if he’d run at Brett, but Ernest spoke up, his voice more commanding than he’d managed since Jarrett had returned.
“If you two have finished with your argument, I’d like to say something,” he said. “I’m not this kid’s father, which means if I should succumb to either this bullet wound or from everyone blabbering on until I die of exhaustion, he won’t inherit nothing of mine.”
Ernest pointed at each man in turn. Then, with a determined sigh, he flopped back down on the bed. Cavanaugh nodded and moved forward with a hand raised to usher Brett away, but Brett barged him aside. Brett moved around Ernest’s bed to stand on the opposite side to everyone else and aimed down at Ernest’s bandaged chest.
“You’ll tell the truth or I’ll put another bullet in you.”
Ernest closed his eyes and waved a weak hand at him.
“It seems to me that if I say what you want me to say, you might do that anyhow.”
“That’s the chance you’ll have to take, but I’m ending this here now.”
Ernest cranked open an eye to regard Saul, who smiled hopefully. He bit his lip as he considered, but just as he looked ready to respond, Jarrett spoke up.
“I recently told Dexter Pyle that he made a big mistake,” he said. “It seems I’ll have to tell you the same thing.”
“What big mistake?” Brett said, his gun hand tensing and his eyes narrowing, suggesting that he was about to fire.
Jarrett raised the gun he’d drawn while Brett had been confronting Ernest and aimed it over the edge of the bed. Before Brett registered what he’d done, he fired low, catching Brett in the stomach and making him stagger backward.
Then he fired a foot higher, making Brett drop his gun before he went sprawling over the bed. Brett clung hold of Ernest’s leg for a moment until his grip loosened and he thudded to the floor.
“You talk too much,” Jarrett said.
“What are you planning to do about Doc Cavanaugh?” Jarrett asked later than night, when he and Ernest were the only people in the surgery.
“When I’ve recovered I’ll get his full story,” Ernest said. “But I reckon he just did what he’d been urging me to do for the last few years: to tackle the dark heart of this town. Gerald was behind most of the trouble in Hamilton and my deputy broke most of the rules in ignoring that.”
“But he was your deputy.”
“I know, which means I’m as much to blame as anyone.” Ernest sighed. “I don’t have to explain nothing to you, but I accept now that I made mistakes. From now on I’ll try to see things differently.”
“I’m pleased to hear it, and I’m even more pleased you’re not excited about the thought of the money you’ll now get.”
Ernest shuffled around on his bed to face Jarrett. “To be honest, even a week ago I’d have been delighted, but Saul told me about some letters I once wrote and they got me thinking about the man I used to be. The man who wrote those letters wouldn’t have made the mistakes I’ve made.”
Jarrett nodded. Then they sat in silence for a while, letting Jarrett wonder whether Ernest would welcome his asking the question that nobody had asked after the encounter with Brett. As he figured they’d both be here for a while and he didn’t fancy skirting around the subject whenever Saul visited them, he shuffled to the edge of his bed, toward Ernest.
“So what’s the truth about Saul?” he said, lowering his voice. “Is he yours?”
Ernest shrugged, the action making him wince. “That’s a personal matter. The truth about that should remain between me and my kin.”
Jarrett considered this statement and decided that in a roundabout way it answered his question.
“Then why let Saul think he’ll not inherit the money?”
Ernest smiled and regarded the ceiling for a while, looking as if he wouldn’t answer, but then he shuffled closer and lowered his voice, too.
“Because I gave him the greatest gift of all, the one he wants. He’s free to make his own way in the world and to do whatever he wants to do. He can go back to Brett’s farm, stay here, move on, but whatever he decides, he won’t be constrained by past problems that had nothing to do with him.”
“That’s some gift.”
“It is, and of course, I hope he comes back here from time to time. If things don’t work out for him, I can always tell him the truth later.” Ernest flopped down on the bed and sighed. “Perhaps by then I might be worthy enough for someone to call me a father.”
Jarrett smiled. “I reckon you will be, and I reckon I might come back here from time to time.”
“Why?”
“Because this place has got me thinking about the man I used to be, too.” Jarrett lay down and felt the case in his pocket. It had been his constant companion for so long that now he felt no urge to remove it. “It’s made me realize there’s still time to be that man again.”
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Did you love Shot to Hell? Then you should read The Hangrope Posse by Scott Connor!
When Sherwood Drake was accused of stealing the railroad payroll, The Hangrope Posse lynched him before anyone could prove his guilt – but the money remained missing.
Seven years later, his sons Braxton and Martin ride into Shady Grove looking for answers. They doubt they will find the missing money, or their father's killers, but when the lynch mob unexpectedly returns to Shady Grove, the Drake boys face a force of mindless terror.
As more bodies swing and the boundaries of justice become blurred, Braxton and Martin Drake venture to find an answer to the important question: was their father's death justified, or just another unlucky hand in a cruel game of fate?
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