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Authors: Robert J. Randisi
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Sam said, “I guess we’ll form our own opinions. We’ll be back in a few hours, Swede.”
“The horses will be ready,” Swede said, “ Ja, you can count on it.”
“Thanks,” Jubal said, patting the big Swede on the shoulder.
The McCalls removed their rifles, war bags, and sugans—and, in Evan’s case, a carpetbag—from their saddles and allowed the
Swede to lead their animals inside.
“Let’s go,” Sam said, and they started toward the sheriff’s office, assuming correctly that it would be in the same place.
As they entered the sheriff’s office they found it empty. There was a coffeepot on a pot-bellied stove and Sam went over to
feel it.
“Still hot.” He opened it and sniffed it. “It’s fresh, and more than half full.”
“Good,” Evan said, “we might as well help ourselves while we wait.”
Evan McCall had more patience than his brother Sam. By nature they had different attitudes toward things like waiting.
“Come on,” Evan said, handing Sam a cup of coffee in a tin cup, “there’s nothing else we can do until we talk to the law.”
Evan looked around, found two more tin cups—swamped one out with his fingers—and then poured two more cups and handed one
to Jubal.
They laid their belongings down on a chair and settled in to wait. Only fifteen minutes or so had gone by’the wink of an eye
for Evan, a lifetime for Sam—before the door opened and a man entered. He was tall and dark-haired, in his thirties, with
a sheriff’s star on his chest. He stopped short when he saw that his office was full.
“What do you people want?”
“Sheriff Kelly?” Evan asked.
“That’s right.” Kelly walked across the room to the coffee pot. “Did you leave me any?”
“There’s plenty,” Sam said. He drained his cup and said, “Here.”
Kelly looked at Sam, then took the cup, cleaned it out with a rag, and poured some coffee. That done, he carried it to his
desk and sat down.
“What can I do for you gents?”
“We’re the sons of Joshua and Miriam McCall,” Evan said.
“The McCalls,” Kelly said, “Of course. A sad thing, that.”
The sheriff looked them over, then directed his attentionto Sam, looking him over, fastening his eyes for a moment on the
.44 on Sam’s hip.
“That would make you Sam McCall.”
“Yes, it would.”
They matched stares for a few moments, and then the lawman looked at the younger McCall.
“And you?”
“Jubal.”
“Uh-huh. Well, I’m new here and I didn’t know your parents all that well.”
“Tell us what happened,” Sam said.
Kelly hesitated a moment, then said, “Well. It was a fairly simple conclusion to come to. You see…I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but apparently your father
shot your mother, and then himself.”
There was a moment of stunned silence in the room. Kelly suddenly tensed and put his coffee cup down. He lowered his right
hand so that it hovered near his gun, but he knew that if Sam McCall wanted to kill him, there wouldn’t be much that he could
do to stop it.
“That’s crazy.”
“It can’t be,” Jubal said.
They both looked at Sam, who hadn’t said a word yet.
“Sam?” Evan said.
Sam’s eye flicked to Evan’s and held them.
“We’ll ask around,” Sam said, “talk to the doctor.” He looked at the sheriff and asked, “Who is the doctor hereabouts now?”
“Doc Leader,” Kelly said.
“Doc Leader?” Sam said, surprised. “He’s the sawbones who delivered us—all three of us. He must be close to eighty by now.”
“That may be,” Kelly said, “but he’s the only doctor we’ve got.”
“Then we’ll talk to him,” Sam said, picking up hisbelongings. “I assume he’s the one who looked at the bodies?”
“He is.”
“And signed the death certificates?”
“Like I said,” Kelly said, “he’s the only doctor we’ve got.”
“You could have brought another one in from somewhere else.”
“We didn’t.”
Sam looked at his
“The horses will be ready,” Swede said, “ Ja, you can count on it.”
“Thanks,” Jubal said, patting the big Swede on the shoulder.
The McCalls removed their rifles, war bags, and sugans—and, in Evan’s case, a carpetbag—from their saddles and allowed the
Swede to lead their animals inside.
“Let’s go,” Sam said, and they started toward the sheriff’s office, assuming correctly that it would be in the same place.
As they entered the sheriff’s office they found it empty. There was a coffeepot on a pot-bellied stove and Sam went over to
feel it.
“Still hot.” He opened it and sniffed it. “It’s fresh, and more than half full.”
“Good,” Evan said, “we might as well help ourselves while we wait.”
Evan McCall had more patience than his brother Sam. By nature they had different attitudes toward things like waiting.
“Come on,” Evan said, handing Sam a cup of coffee in a tin cup, “there’s nothing else we can do until we talk to the law.”
Evan looked around, found two more tin cups—swamped one out with his fingers—and then poured two more cups and handed one
to Jubal.
They laid their belongings down on a chair and settled in to wait. Only fifteen minutes or so had gone by’the wink of an eye
for Evan, a lifetime for Sam—before the door opened and a man entered. He was tall and dark-haired, in his thirties, with
a sheriff’s star on his chest. He stopped short when he saw that his office was full.
“What do you people want?”
“Sheriff Kelly?” Evan asked.
“That’s right.” Kelly walked across the room to the coffee pot. “Did you leave me any?”
“There’s plenty,” Sam said. He drained his cup and said, “Here.”
Kelly looked at Sam, then took the cup, cleaned it out with a rag, and poured some coffee. That done, he carried it to his
desk and sat down.
“What can I do for you gents?”
“We’re the sons of Joshua and Miriam McCall,” Evan said.
“The McCalls,” Kelly said, “Of course. A sad thing, that.”
The sheriff looked them over, then directed his attentionto Sam, looking him over, fastening his eyes for a moment on the
.44 on Sam’s hip.
“That would make you Sam McCall.”
“Yes, it would.”
They matched stares for a few moments, and then the lawman looked at the younger McCall.
“And you?”
“Jubal.”
“Uh-huh. Well, I’m new here and I didn’t know your parents all that well.”
“Tell us what happened,” Sam said.
Kelly hesitated a moment, then said, “Well. It was a fairly simple conclusion to come to. You see…I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but apparently your father
shot your mother, and then himself.”
There was a moment of stunned silence in the room. Kelly suddenly tensed and put his coffee cup down. He lowered his right
hand so that it hovered near his gun, but he knew that if Sam McCall wanted to kill him, there wouldn’t be much that he could
do to stop it.
“That’s crazy.”
“It can’t be,” Jubal said.
They both looked at Sam, who hadn’t said a word yet.
“Sam?” Evan said.
Sam’s eye flicked to Evan’s and held them.
“We’ll ask around,” Sam said, “talk to the doctor.” He looked at the sheriff and asked, “Who is the doctor hereabouts now?”
“Doc Leader,” Kelly said.
“Doc Leader?” Sam said, surprised. “He’s the sawbones who delivered us—all three of us. He must be close to eighty by now.”
“That may be,” Kelly said, “but he’s the only doctor we’ve got.”
“Then we’ll talk to him,” Sam said, picking up hisbelongings. “I assume he’s the one who looked at the bodies?”
“He is.”
“And signed the death certificates?”
“Like I said,” Kelly said, “he’s the only doctor we’ve got.”
“You could have brought another one in from somewhere else.”
“We didn’t.”
Sam looked at his
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