Loaded Guns and Broken Fences [On Hold]

Chapter 31 || One in the Hand ||

Clarence stood a few paces from the doctor's table in a daze. His grief-filled eyes were locked on the lifeless body of his older brother.

Jeff had intended to cover Robert with a sheet after he'd pronounced him dead, but Clarence had stopped the doctor. He wanted Albert to see what those heartless sons of bitches had done to their brother.

When Albert arrived, he did better at holding himself together than Clarence had, but that didn't mean tears didn't streak his world-worn face.

"Where's the boys?" Clarence questioned. He hadn't seen his nephews since leaving their house the night before. "Albert?" He repeated sharply.

The tall, broad blonde snapped his head up from Robert's form.

"They's at my place..." Albert sniffed, taking one last glance at the pale face of his dead sibling before stepping away from him. "When did he pass?"

"This morning," Clarence said with his jaw tight and his arms crossed. "How'd you know he didn't die when they'd shot him?"

"Don't know too many folks who'd expect a doctor to help a dead man," Albert replied distantly. "Did you get to talk to him, 'fore he went?"

Clarence's features turned dark as he gave a brief nod.

"He tell you who done it?"

The younger of the two let out a harsh, mirthless laugh. "You know damn well who's to blame," Clarence replied coldly. "But if you're wantin' the name he gave me, it weren't one I recognized....but you know damn well who's to blame," he repeated.

In a joining room, Doctor Jeffery McGrath slumped down into his armchair weakly. One of his shaky hands groped for his pipe as he fumbled with the match with which to light it.

Faith watched as he finally achieved an ember and seemed to ease after a few puffs. She'd never seen him look this frail. It was as if each lost patient shortened his own life. Faith shook that thought from her head as she brought a cup of fresh coffee to her uncle.

"I couldn't help but overhear our... guests. Why don't you tell them that it wasn't our kin responsible for that man's death?" She wondered in the most innocent tone she could muster.

Jeff dabbed his pocket cloth at his forehead before his hand dropped heavily into his lap.

"If I thought it would do any good, I would..." Jeff explained, taking a sip of the coffee as color began to return to his face.

"So we just let them go on like this?" She was clearly offended by the idea. "Every time anything happens they're just going to point a finger at the nearest McGrath. They'll say we did it until there aren't anymore McGrath's left to blame!" Faith exclaimed in the loudest tone she dared with the other men still in the house.

Jeff stared at her with a helpless regret that seemed to anger her further.

"I've got three boys. I'm not about to let a single one hang for nothing!" She declared in frustration, heading for the door.

"Faith! Wait! Where are you--" Jeff's words trailed off once she was already out the door.

When Joseph arrived at Chad's farmhouse, he was quick to notice the unfamiliar geldings in the small coral out front. His brows lowered a bit in thought as he started for the house, only to be caught by his nephew.

"Uncle Joe? Christ, Celly must think we need half the town's help around here," John joked, as he made his way over to match strides with his uncle.

"I'm not here ta help, I just..." He stopped to rub his beard a moment as he pondered a way to ask his query without alerting John to what worried him. "Whose horses are those?" He asked, motioning towards the three not of his late brother's stock.

"Them's mine," Otis stated from his seated position on the porch, obscured just enough from plain view by the painted railing that he'd not been noticed. "Wull, one of em's mine," He corrected, standing and brushing off his bottom. "You're Uncle Joe?" The dark-haired adolescent squinted at the family head, though not in an unfriendly way.

"I am," Joe said as he and John joined Otis on the porch. "You must be one of Fin's boys." Joe surmised with a well-mannered smile of his own. "I ain't seen yer Pa in a spell, what brings him back to these parts?"

The smile that twisted Otis's lips was one Joe had seen many times before as a father--the look of a child caught doing something they shouldn't.

"Uncle Jack, but I'd be real obliged if you acted like you ain't heard that frum me," Otis stated, sheepishly scratching at the back of his head.

He really was the worst with secrets... Octa wasn't wrong to accuse him of folding like a house of cards under pressure. But the way Otis saw things, it was only a matter of time before Joe put two and two together. And it wasn't like his pa had specifically said what to do should Joe come sniffing around.

Joseph chuckled light-heartedly. "Why don't that surprise me?" he said as he passed into the house. Otis' comment had certainly given him a direction from which to start, but it would take him a good chunk of the day to ride all the way to Jack's place.

He had every intention of going to confront his weasely, oil-slick of a brother. But since he was already here, he wanted to take the time to check in on his widowed sister-in-law. Jack wouldn't be home until the evening, anyway.

Sooooo, thoughts?

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