Lester Feakes regained consciousness and immediately asked about the welfare of his brother. Doc glanced at me, then went to the side where Feakes was laying. “I hate to bring you the bad news, but your brother is dead.”
His eyes blinked several times, but then stayed open and stared upward at the ceiling. Doc and I both waited for several seconds, then the man spoke. “I knew we shouldn’t have bothered with the priest and preacher. I knew it would be the death of one of us. Bart…he was reckless, and…” he closed his eyes. We both thought that he went back to sleep. But after a period, he began to talk again. “We were stone broke, not a penny to our name. That’s when Barstow found us and offered us an easy job. We were just supposed to throw a scare into some individuals.”
The eyes closed, this time a tear coming from one. Doc leaned close, then checked the man’s pulse. I nodded for Doc to continue. “Son, why were you told to scare someone?”
Opening his eyes again, he began, “Barstow said that a man wanted to find his daughter. She had run away and the priest and preacher both knew where she was. Barstow said we would get a hundred dollars if we got the information needed, and gave each of us ten dollars.”
“Let me tell you something, Mister. The young girl in question is happily married and left of her own free will,” I said sternly.
His eyes closed in a grimace. “All for nothing,” he muttered. “All for nothing. Bart killed for a lie.”
I was now standing on the other side of the bed. “Who was the man that hired you?”
He opened his eyes, “The only person I know is Mark Barstow. I don’t know who hired him.” He became quiet, blinking his eyes several times, he spoke very softly, almost reverently, “I’m sorry, I’m truly sorry. I know that won’t bring Bart back, but…” He closed his eyes.
“Miles, let him be,” remarked Doc. “He can’t tell you any more, and he’s in bad shape,” he paused, “I don’t know if he’ll even pull through.”
“I think I need to go have a talk with Barstow,” I snapped, then started to leave.
Doc reached out to grab my arm. “Miles,” he began with a shake of his head. “Control yourself.”
I smiled, “You mean just little thumps?” Then I turned leaving the office and heading up to the jail.
The walk did me good, I was able to say a little prayer to calm myself, but I wanted a confession from Barstow. By the time I reached the jail, I had calmed, at least somewhat. Mateo was still there, putting Barstow’s belongings in a bag, then into the bottom drawer of the file cabinet.
Motioning with my head, I had him follow me to Barstow’s cell. Fortunately there were no other people in jail for I intended to get information from Barstow. I wanted to know who paid him to terrorize the priest and pastor. I also wanted to find out who scarred Hawk.
I didn’t enter the cell, but looked at Barstow sitting there on the bunk. “Come to let me out?” he smirked.
“No, come to tell you that you have a long stretch waitin’ for you in Canon City. Lester Feakes said you were the boss, the man behind the threats and beatings,” I paused briefly. “Beating a Catholic priest won’t bring you a light sentence, and the cutting on my horse, well…” I turned to Mateo, “Hand me the keys.”
“Are you sure?” questioned Mateo.
“Hand me the keys!” I ordered. “Then go take a walk for about twenty minutes.”
“Yuh, yuh, can’t do that Marshal!” stuttered Barstow. “I know my rights!”
Placing the key in the lock. “What about the rights of Father Cisneros and Rev. Chapman? What about my horse? Don’t you dare talk to me about your rights!” I turned the key. That did it.
“It was Martin! Amos Martin wanted his daughter back!”
I stopped and gave him a hard look. “I want a confession down on paper.”
Locking the cell, I turned to the outside door of the cell block. When I opened it…