“And more for me,” Sam said, “and how do we know how he might have changed between now and then?”
“You boys have a lot of gall,” Doc Leader said.
“What do you mean, Doc?”
“Your Ma and Pa were proud as hell of you boys, but did any of you ever come to see them? And now that they’re dead you want me to point the lot of you like loaded guns at someone and say, there, he killed your father andmother, after which you’d get your revenge. Well, there’s no revenge to be gotten, boys…not unless you want to go and piss on your father’s grave.”
“You old—” Jubal snapped, rushing at him. Sam turned half to his left and caught Jubal with one sweep of his arm.
“Easy, boy.”
“Don’t call me ’boy’!” Jubal shouted. “I don’t like that any better than ‘little brother,—and let me go!”
“Evan,” Sam said, “take Jubal outside and calm him down, will you?”
Evan walked over to where Sam was holding Jubal and stared at Sam for a long moment.
“Go ahead,” Sam said.
Evan took hold of Jubal and ushered him toward the door.
“But he can’t say that—” Jubal was protesting.
“Shut up, Jube,” Evan said, and pulled the door shut behind them.
“You’ve got a burr under your saddle, Doc,” Sam said when they were alone. “Do you want to tell me what it’s about?”
Doc Leader glared at Sam for a moment or two, then turned and reached for a half full bottle of whiskey on his desk. He uncorked the bottle and tilted it to his lips.
“You want some?”
“No, I don’t want a drink, Doc, I want answers.”
“I can’t give you any,” Leader said, putting the bottle down. “The burr under my saddle? I don’t know where you get off playing the outraged son, Sam McCall, that’s what’s rubbing me the wrong way.”
“I’m not outraged,” Sam said. “That’s Jubal.”
“Any of you!” Leader said. “You all broke your mother’s heart when you left.”
“Children leave home, Doc.”
“And they come back once in a while to visit.”
“I been busy—”
“Oh, I know how busy you been, Sam McCall,” Leader said. “Big man, big rep, we all read all about it, me, Dude Miller, your mother and father—”
“I’m gonna talk to Dude next.”
“If he’s in any shape to talk.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Dude was beat up a few nights ago.”
“By who?”
“I don’t know,” Leader said. “Three masked men broke into his house, dragged him outside, and gave him a sound beating.”
“How bad?”
“Bad enough to put him in bed.”
“Dude’s a tough old bird.”
“Now how would you know that? You ain’t seen him for years.”
Sam frowned.
“I can see we’re not gonna get anywhere, Doc,” Sam said, moving toward the door. “Something’s eatin’ at you. I don’t know what it is, but if I find out that it’s somethin’ that I should have known, then this loaded gun just might end up pointin’ at you. Remember that.”
Evan and Jubal were waiting at the base of the steps when Sam came down.
“Well?” Evan asked.
“Pa didn’t do it.”
“Well, why didn’t you say that in the sheriff’s office?” Jubal demanded. “Or upstairs?”
“Because I wasn’t sure then.”
“And you are now?” Evan asked.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because that old man is hiding something” Sam said.
“I can feel it, and if he’s got something to hide, then somethin’ is goin’ on here.”
“And we’re gonna find out what it is, right?” Jubal asked.
“That’s right, kid,” Sam said. “We’re gonna find out.”
“Well, good!” Jubal said, and then as Sam and Evan started walking away he shouted, “And don’t call me ‘kid.—”
Chapter Seven
“Do you remember Dude’s daughter?” Sam asked Evan as they walked from the doctor’s office to Dude Miller’s house.
Before Evan could reply, Jubal said, “I remember her. Yellow-haired gal, right?”
“Yellow-haired child, by my remembrance,” Sam said. “I don’t think she was more than seven or eight when I left.”
“She was a little older than that when I saw her last,” Evan said, “and she was pretty.”
“When I left she was over twenty,” Jubal said, “and she was still pretty.”
“Look at the gleam in the kid’s eye, Evan.”
“I said, don’t call me—”
“Well what the hell do you want us to call you?” Evan asked.
“Jubal,” the younger brother said. “My name’s Jubal, ain’t it?”
“It sure is, kid,” Sam said.
“Jesus…” Jubal said.
Walking through town they found themselves the center of attention. Men and woman stopped on the street to stare, or to point. There go the McCall boys, they were saying, or, There goes Sam McCall.
“You recognize any of these people?” Sam asked.
“Not many,” Evan said.
“Some were children when I left,” Sam said, “and are hard to recognize now.”
“Some were not so elderly,” Evan said, “and are also hard to recognize.”
“I know some of them,” Jubal said, “but it ain’t me they’re pointing at.”
“Oh?” Evan said.
“It’s him,” Jubal said, jerking his thumb at his older brother. “Big Sam McCall. They’re afraid of him.”
“Are they?” Evan asked.
“Well, sure they are,” Jubal said. “They know how many men he’s killed, just as I do.”
“Do you?” Sam asked. “How do you know how many men I’ve killed?”
“Well…I heard, and I read the papers—”
“And you believe all of that?”
“Well, ain’t it true?”
“Some of it, yes.”
“What do you mean, some of it?”
“I mean just that,” Sam said. “It ain’t all true. I’ve killed men, yes, but only if they were tryin’ to kill me.”
