Loaded Guns and Broken Fences [On Hold]

Chapter 20 || The Snake, the Mouse, and the Crow ||

After Robert's trial, many families would find themselves eating super late tonight. It had taken over an hour for the townsfolk to disperse after the ruling. Whether they agreed or disagreed with it, the verdict had struck a chord with nearly everyone.

Most were eager to voice their opinions in hushed whispers behind closed doors, or loudly through drunken slurs at the town bar.

It was around that time that Jack McGrath arrived at the jail. The short banker didn't look well, retrieving a cloth from his vest pocket and dabbing at his forehead, as he opened the door and stepped inside.

"Clarence?" He questioned casting his gaze around quickly, to make sure Atwell wasn't still lurking around somewhere.

The Deputy's head didn't move, and in the light from a short lamp wick, it was hard to tell if his gaze had even shifted to the McGrath from the black shadow under the brim of his hat.

"Shut that door behind ya," came the lawman's stiff reply, without any other invitation or greeting.

Jack jumped slightly and quickly shut the door behind him.

Robert Shield wasn't immediately visible to Jack, but his presence was well enough felt to make it known that he was back in that middle cell, stewing like a pot left unwatched for far too long.

The McGrath meandered over slowly but kept a wary distance between him and the iron cage. He paced there a moment, his eyes fixating on the cloth between his fingers rather than to dare to look at the Shield. Finally, he managed to form words, though they were mumbled and hasty.

"No good. It ain't no good, Rob. They got a deed, plain as day," He huffed and started to pace again. "If Faith's boy gets to look' at em side by side then...we'll..."

The thought of what it all could mean for him, filled him with desperation and dread.

"That boy ain't gonna get the chance ta look at nothin," Robert growled, a very delicately detained rage evident in his surprisingly quiet reply.

"If'n that hearing takes place," Clarence stated, his handlebar mustache twitching. "I reckon yer family's gonna know plain as day who dun sold that land," He was staring plainly at Jack now.

Robert rose from the bench and stepped towards the bars, his head tilted downwards.

"I lost my boy, Jack. One of my goddamned son's blood's out there on that dirt, you sniveling son of a bitch," he seethed.

Clarence half expected his brother to make an attempt to reach for and throttle Jack McGrath, despite it being a clear impossibility. Rob settled for white-knuckle grasping the bars confining him.

"You best have somethin' in mind to see that that land stays in Shields' hands, or I swear to God I'll stretch your neck on it."

Jack flinched back, the bars doing little to make him feel safe from the wrath in Robert's eyes.

"N-now j-just hang on!" He backpedaled feeling the cold bars of the adjacent cell behind him meet his back like an icy omen. "I never meant fer that ta happen, Rob."

He couldn't go to jail for this. It would ruin him.

"It's really John's fault, he's just like his pa, stirrin' up trouble. Should have taken care of him! He's the one you ought to go after!" The tone of fear turned all too easily into anger as he implicated his own nephew. "That deed I gave ya would have held up on its own, but you let them go drudge up the original!"

Despite his bold claims, the McGrath was still trembling.

Robert stared in silence at Jack for a few moments, as if waiting to see if his anger alone really could call down the fury of God and strike the man dead where he stood.

Clarence looked between the two, tobacco falling from the paper he haphazardly rolled between his fingertips. "I think we oughta do a lotta things." Clarence finally voiced, sounding mildly irritated.

"Tch." Rob spat in Jack's direction, leaning into the bars before addressing his brother without taking his steely gaze off of the McGrath. "How long you reckon it'll be b'fore Andy gets back here with his boys?" He asked, shifting his weight.

"Day er two ta get back in the state once he gets word... depends on where he's at in the territories," Clarence replied before placing the cigarette between his lips.

Robert Shield grinned.

"Ya hear that, Jack? Day 'er two."

"Damnedest thing, them railways now," Clarence added with his own dark little smirk.

"You best get yer shit together, Jack, real quick like," the man in the cell advised, before releasing his hold on the bars and stepping back beyond the reaches of the waning lamplight.

***

Despite being back in his own bed, Tom didn't sleep well. The sheer animosity pouring from his silent father had made supper more uncomfortable than the entirety of his stay in the town's small jail--quite a feat, considering the company he'd had while there.

By morning, he was relieved to find that some of the near crushing weight of the past few days had felt lifted. While he dressed, hope began to rise in him as he looked around his small room. Maybe Horace really hadn't meant what he'd said, and maybe once they'd all had time to grieve and process, their family really could find some way to heal from all of this.

He still approached the stairs anxiously, finding himself trying to walk softly as he entered the kitchen occupied by the rest of his family.

His mother was still preparing breakfast but already had coffee made. Horace sat at the head of the table, staring at nothing in particular between glances at his mug.

Abby rose when she saw Tom stalled out in the entryway and moved to fetch a cup for him. Clyde was quiet as he looked between his younger brother and father, clearly unsure of how the latter was going to react to the other's presence.

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