GUILTY

PART ONE

By: Elaine Kane

Beta read by Yvonne Freydberg

CHAPTER 1

“We the Jury find the defendant, Jess Harper, guilty of manslaughter.” Jess Harper, that’s me. I’d been holding my breath waiting for the foreman of the jury to read the verdict and even though I hadn’t expected to be found innocent, the word “guilty’ was like a knife in my gut. The fact that I had escaped the hangman’s noose hadn’t eased the twisted knot in my stomach. The squat little foreman glanced at me for a second then held out the small piece of paper to the scowling deputy sheriff who was the acting bailiff. Angrily snatching the paper that had spared my life he passed it to the judge.

Hearing the verdict some of the women and men folk in the audience began to complain loudly, one by one, a few of the men rose from their seats and moved toward me looking as though they intended to lynch me. The Sheriff and his deputy immediately drew their weapons and stepped between them and me. For a second I sat frozen in my chair, their angry voices ringing in my ears then I balled my hands into fists and slowly got to my feet - ready to defend myself.

The Judge shouted, “Order, order in the court.” He pounded his gavel heavily on the pad. But the men were too intent on reaching their target and paid him no mind.

My lawyer pulled on my arm urging me to sit down. “No, Jess, let the sheriff handle them.” Reluctantly, I sat down but every muscle in my body had tensed itching for a fight. I don’t cotton to anyone doing my fighting for me and I welcomed the chance to strike out at anyone to get rid of the helplessness and frustration I felt over the mess I was in. I welcomed any chance to dive into that bunch and pound at least one angry self righteous face to a pulp. Even though he was unarmed, my boss and best friend Slim Sherman stepped alongside the pair protecting me. Slim is a big man ─ tall and muscular and he was a powerful presence towering over every man in the room. Slim had arrived in town last night, just in time to testify in my behalf. Undaunted, the crowd continued their push to get at me. Without warning, the sheriff fired a shot over the protestors’ heads and shouted, “Everyone back to your seats or I’ll shoot the next man who takes another step toward my prisoner.”

Startled by the gunshot, the men hesitated then grumbling they reluctantly returned to their seats. Slim let out a sigh of relief and gave me a reassuring pat on the shoulder as he headed back to his seat behind me. The two lawmen resumed their places next to the judge’s bench and faced the onlookers with their hands resting on their gun butts. The angry men continued to complain.

Judge Rawlins pounded his gavel several times. “Order in the court, if there are any more outbursts I’ll clear the courtroom.” His tired gray eyes flashed with anger as he pointed his gavel at the complaining men and the room became quite again.

The reaction of the crowd had left me shaken. The word “guilty” echoed over and over in my head. I swallowed hard and glanced back at Slim. He returned my gaze with a reassuring look but I could tell by the tenseness in his jaw that he was fuming inside. Then he shook his head slowly as if to say “I told you so”. He had tried to get me to tell my side of the story to the court and I had refused. I had simply pleaded “not guilty” to the charge of murder and left it to my lawyer to prove my innocence. How could I defend myself when I wasn’t sure just what had happened?

The jury had found me guilty of killing a man named Gabe Reynolds - a prominent citizen of Boulder, Colorado and owner of the general store. I had come here from Laramie on business and had only been in town a few days when the shooting occurred. A local citizen had found me standing over Reynolds’ body - dazed, sick and unaware of my surroundings. The last clear memory I had was sitting alone at a table having a drink in the local saloon. Several witnesses swore they saw me in a drunken stupor struggling and arguing with the victim as he forced me toward the alley door. The girl who had served me said I’d downed at least a half dozen glasses of whiskey before Reynolds and I argued. The only thing I remembered after taking the first drink was waking up the next morning face down in the dirt. I reeked of whiskey - I was groggy, my head hurt and I had a searing pain in my gut. Sick to my stomach I began to retch uncontrollably – then I saw Reynolds lying on the ground. He had a gun in his hand and a bullet hole in his chest. Realizing I was clutching my pistol I thumbed back the hammer if only to verify what I feared was true… I must’ve shot him; what I couldn’t figure out was… why?

Confused and sick as I was, I allowed the man who discovered me walk right up and take away my Colt. Taking me by the arm he led me to the sheriff’s office where I was arrested and locked in a cell. The sheriff tried to get me to admit my guilt but I refused - swearing that I couldn’t remember anything.

There were no witnesses to the shooting. Caught standing over the body with a recently fired .45 in my hand was pretty damning evidence. My lawyer argued that it was obvious that I had been forced to defend myself because the dead man had a discharged pistol in his hand and I was falling down drunk and at Reynolds mercy when he drug me into that alley. He also pointed out that if I had intended to murder the man; I certainly wouldn’t have stuck around the body for hours waiting to be caught. Without witnesses, the prosecutor could only argue that the victim never had a chance against me - a known gunfighter - and maintained that I only pretended to be drunk and had shot him in cold blood. He tried to convince the jury that I was feigning loss of memory just to gain their sympathy. Before the jury left to deliberate my fate, the judge had given them three choices for a verdict: murder; because they believed I had deliberately shot the man, manslaughter; because I had acted in self defense or innocent; because the shooting was accidental. Being a stranger in town and responsible for the death of one of its leading citizens I felt lucky that the jury had taken the middle road.

Lost in thought I didn’t hear Judge Rawlins speak. My lawyer elbowed me in the ribs and whispered, “Pay attention Jess, the judge asked you a question.”

I looked up and cleared my throat. “I’m sorry Judge Rawlins; would you repeat your question?”

The elderly judge studied me over his reading glasses and shook his head in disdain. “I asked you if you have anything to say in your behalf before I pronounce sentence.”

I thought a moment and then shook my head. “No sir, I reckon nothing I have to say is gonna make any difference, though I do want to say I’m real sorry Mr. Reynolds is dead.” I couldn’t bring myself to say I had killed him.

Judge Rawlins nodded his approval. He sat up straight and said, “Mr. Harper please rise before the court to hear your sentence.”

A feeling of dread clutched my heart and twisted my stomach and I hesitated. My lawyer grasped my elbow and urged me to stand with him. Rising I stared straight into the judge’s eyes. He looked away for a second and then returned my gaze.

“Jess Harper, by the power vested in me by the Territory of Colorado, I hereby sentence you to ten years hard labor in the Colorado Territorial Prison at Canyon City. I further decree that with good behavior you will be eligible for parole at the end of three years. Sentence is to commence immediately. This court is adjourned and the jury is excused.” He pounded his gavel once and the group of protesters grumbled loudly again but no one made a move in my direction when the sheriff and his deputy stepped beside me with their hands on their gun butts.

Hearing the sentence my knees buckled and I grabbed the table for support. I stared up in disbelief at the man who had just taken away ten years of my life. He looked to be in his sixties, his shoulders were slumped and his eyes wearied by the burden of his job. His gray hair was thinning and his face showed the wear of time and years of riding from town to town on his circuit rounds. It was probably my imagination - but I thought I detected a slight hint of pity in his eyes when he looked at me. I took a deep breath, straightened and squared my shoulders… I’d be damned before I gave anyone the satisfaction of seeing me falter.

Still grumbling the trouble makers and the remaining spectators began filing out of the courtroom leaving Slim, the two lawmen, my lawyer and me standing before the judge.

My lawyer placed a sympathetic hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Jess I’ve done all I can for you. Stay out of trouble and you’ll be out in three years.” Before I could thank him, he turned and left. He was probably glad to be shuck of me and I couldn’t blame him. I sure wasn’t much help during my trial.

Deputy Connors stepped in front of me as soon as the judge had finished pronouncing my sentence. The burly, mean-tempered and pockmarked lawman held up a pair of open manacles joined by a short chain and gestured with them. His small steely eyes dared me to resist. “Hold out your wrists Harper.” Slowly I obeyed and he roughly clamped on the bracelets. I gritted my teeth to keep from flinching when the cold metal bit into my skin. I glared at him stoically as he completed his task.

For some reason the judge hadn’t dismissed me yet and I wondered what else he had to say. From the frown he wore, I gathered it wasn’t good news. Judge Rawlins removed his glasses, pinched his nose between his eyes and peered down at me from the bench. “Mr. Harper a U. S. Marshal is scheduled to arrive with the Tumbleweed Wagon sometime tomorrow at which time you will be placed in his custody and transported to prison.” His next words almost sounded apologetic. “I realize it doesn’t give you much time to put your affairs in order, but I see no reason to delay your departure. The Marshal is on a tight schedule and I have no control over his comings and goings.” He gestured toward the door. “Deputy Connors, you may return Mr. Harper to his cell.”

My stomach churned and my shoulders slumped in despair. I had hoped to have a little more time before I left for prison. I realized that I would probably never see Andy or Jonesy again and my heart sank. Time was running out on me and I never got around to telling them how much their friendship meant to me. Then there’s Slim, what do I say to him? How do I thank him for the trust he’d put in me and making me a part of his family. I was only fifteen when I’d lost my home and family. After over eleven long years of being on my own wandering from place to place in the Big Open I had finally found a new family and a place to call home again and now it was being torn from me.

“Come on Harper, you heard the judge” Connors grabbed my arm and gave me a rough jerk in the direction of the door. Pulled off balance and hampered by the cuffs I tripped over a chair leg and when I lurched forward the deputy lost his grip on my arm. He reached out to grab my arm again but a large hand clamped around his wrist stopping him. Finding my balance I looked at the familiar hand then up at its owner and smiled as I watched the startled deputy’s eyes roam up the long arm attached to that big hand until his gaze met its owner and he tried to jerk his arm away to no avail.

Anger flashing in his piercing blue eyes Slim stepped in front of the deputy still hanging on to his wrist. Slim’s other hand was closed into a fist so tight his knuckles had turned white. The deputy tried to shrink back from the big man’s threatening stance but Slim’s iron grip held the deputy pinned in place. A shake of my head stopped him as he was about to haul off and slug the lout. Still fuming Slim let go his grip and stepped out of the deputy’s way − his eyes staring holes in the deputy’s shirt. Slim’s jaw twitched with the clenching of his teeth and if looks could kill, the man would’ve been dead.

Connors reached for my arm again and I defiantly jerked it away. “I know the way”. The deputy glanced up at Slim’s angry face and lowered his eyes along my friend’s tall and muscular length as though he were sizing him up. Connors dropped his hand and allowed me to go ahead of him. I stepped toward the door pausing in front of my benefactor. I swallowed the lump in my throat and my voice failed me as my eyes met his troubled gaze. When I found my voice, it was raspy with emotion. “See ya, Pard…. Tell Andy Traveler’s his now and tell Jonesy not to worry about me.”

“Jess…” He swallowed hard and looked at me with forlorn eyes. His slumping shoulders betrayed the helplessness he felt.

“’S-okay, Pard, I’ll be fine,” He just stared at me, then dropped his eyes and stared at his boots.

The minute Slim looked down Connors shoved me hard in the back and I stumbled forward. Regaining my balance, I turned and glared at my tormentor. Connors sneered and motioned for me to head for the door.

I walked out of the dimly lit courtroom and into the bright sunlight of the early spring afternoon. Squinting I paused at the top of the steps and shielded my eyes with my hands and waited for them to adjust before I headed for the steps.

I felt a hand in the middle of my back and heard Connors say, “Move it, Harper.” He gave me a hard shove and I tripped catching my boot heel on the top step. I was propelled head first off the three-foot high porch toward the hard packed dirt of the street. Hampered by my manacled wrists I hit the ground hard landing on my stomach with my cuffed hands underneath me. At the same time my chin collided with the ground and for a moment everything went black. The fall knocked the wind out of me and I felt something tear inside me when the protruding lock of the manacles dug into my sore and bruised stomach. Connors had hit me in the same spot with an axe handle the day I was arrested. I gritted my teeth to stifle a scream and rolled off my hands, drew my knees up and pressed my hands to my aching belly. I lay in the dirt paralyzed while I struggled to draw air back into my lungs. I watched through tears of pain as Connors walked down the steps toward me. “On your feet Harper,” he snarled. When I didn’t move, Connors lifted his booted right foot and aimed a kick at me but before he could deliver the blow, Slim stepped up behind him, grabbed his arm, spun him around and drove his big right fist into the deputy’s belly. When Connors doubled over Slim sent an uppercut to the man’s chin with his left. All of Slim’s pent up anger and frustration seemed to go into those punches and Connors crumpled to the ground out cold.

Slim helped me to my feet and placed a steadying arm around my shoulders while I tried to get my breath back. I couldn’t straighten up so I stayed doubled over gasping for air. “Jess, you alright?”

I pressed my hands to my stomach and nodded. “S-sure… j-just… n-eed to… get… s-some air… in me.” My breathing eased and I was finally able to fill my lungs and stand unaided. Slim let go of me balled up his fists and made a move toward Connors again. I pulled on his arm to stop him. “Ease off − what’re you planning to do? He’s out cold. Go home; Andy and Jonesy… need you at the ranch.” It was hard to talk. Slim was so angry at the deputy that he hadn’t noticed how bad off I was. Just what I wanted… I had to make sure he left on the next train to Cheyenne. Straightening up as much as my throbbing stomach and lungs would let me, I pushed him away from me. “Forget about me, Pard,” Dizzy and weak I pressed my hands against my gut hoping to ease the increasing pain. I slowly started limping toward the sheriff’s office and my waiting cell. I didn’t dare stop until I had something to hang on to. I forgot about the out cold deputy on the ground. All I could think about was the cot in my cell and how badly I needed to lie down.

Reaching the jailhouse porch, I clung to an awning support post and watched Slim’s reflection in a windowpane as he stood in the middle of the street shaking his head. He took a hesitant step in my direction then he set out in the direction of the railroad station. I hoped he was going there to buy a ticket home and I wondered if I’d ever see the big galoot again.

Connors staggered groggily up to me his face red with rage - almost as red as the bruise that was forming on his chin. He grabbed my arm and led me inside to my waiting cell. He shoved me through the door and I lurched off balance. The room started to spin and pain knifed through my belly. Swaying with dizziness it was all I could do to stay upright. Once I found my balance I forced back a grimace of pain - turned and held out my wrists for him to remove the cuffs. He just grunted then slammed and locked the door in my face. He checked the door, and then motioned for me to hold out my wrists through the bars and he roughly removed the manacles. He sure was one careful cuss.

The room was refusing to hold still so I clung to the bars to keep from falling flat on my face. I leaned my head against the cool iron and looked out into the sparsely furnished room. It had a desk, a couple of chairs, potbellied stove and a gun rack. Blinds covered the three front windows blocking the afternoon sun making the room look as gloomy as I felt. It contained three cells and I was in the one farthest from the door. The only light came from a stray beam of sunlight that had found its way through a space between the blind and the window sill and settled at my feet. Locked behind bars wasn’t anything new to me, I’d been in jail before, but never had I felt so alone and helpless. Before there had always been hope that I would somehow get out of the fix I was in and I always did. This time there was no hope of escaping my fate. Ten years for a crime I couldn’t remember committing, it just didn’t seem right. At least they weren’t gonna hang me… No… on second thought, hanging would’ve been better, then it would be over and done with and I wouldn’t have to rot in a stinking prison for the rest of my pathetic life. With my temper, I knew I’d never be able to stay outta trouble so parole in 3 years didn’t look like much of an option.

How the hell could this be happening to me? I’d never even talked to the man before he died… Suddenly it came to me… No, that’s not true; the man’s angry face came in a flash and I remembered... I had talked to Reynolds before… Of all the times for it to come back to me… Two days before he died, Reynolds stopped me in the street and warned me to stay away from his daughter Cheryl. I had met her for the first time while picking up a few things I needed in their store. We exchanged pleasantries and I left. Then I ran into her at the café next door and we had coffee and pie together. Reynolds must’ve seen us because he approached me shortly after I left the café and warned me to stay away from her. Since Cheryl was of age, I didn’t take his warning too seriously and later that afternoon I asked her to go on a ride in the country the following day. She agreed and volunteered to bring a picnic lunch. Why couldn’t I have remembered that during my trial? Probably wouldn’t have done me no good anyway. More’n likely the prosecutor would’ve used it against me. The dizziness eased and I let go my death grip on the bars but the searing pain in my stomach was becoming unbearable. I stretched out on the cell’s narrow cot and closed my eyes hoping the pain would go away and I could get some rest. Sleep had eluded me since I’d been arrested. I tossed on the narrow cot trying to find a comfortable position that would give me some relief. At some point I must have fallen asleep but pain spasms and nightmares of prison life kept waking me throughout the afternoon.

“I want to see the prisoner,” the familiar growl of an angry Slim brought me wide awake. Slim stormed up to Deputy Connors who held out one hand to stop him and the other palm up.

“Not until ya give me yore iron.” Slim glared at him then reluctantly handed over his pistol butt first. I grinned at the sight of Slim towering over Connors by at least a foot and Connors gingerly taking Slim’s shootn’ iron and stepping back quickly out of Slim’s reach. The deputy obviously remembered the fist in his bread basket and that left uppercut to his jaw that Slim had dealt him earlier in the day.

I sat up slow and careful favoring my sore stomach and swiped my hand down my face to hide a grimace when a spasm hit my gut. I was determined not to let Slim see how bad I felt so I didn’t stand up. I scooted my butt against the wall into the shadows cast by the weak kerosene lamp hanging from the ceiling in the jailhouse room. Leaning back and pulling my knees up I folded my hands together and pressed them against my stomach casual like. I was disappointed that he was still here and frowning at him I shook my head in dismay. I was about to bawl him out for staying, but the thought passed when I realized I was too happy to see the big bloke. Suddenly I didn’t feel so all alone. “What’s up, Pard?”

He wrapped his big fists around the cell bars separating us, leaned on them and peered at me. “I’ve been trying to find out what started that argument between you and Reynolds and no one seems to know. I can’t believe you didn’t defend yourself during your trial. It’s not like you to just sit back and let someone else do your fighting for you. Surely there was something you could have said in your defense.

I looked at the bed, then back up at him, and managed a sheepish grin. “Well, you got me there, Pard, but what would you have me do? My memory is a blank and that little detail shore wasn’t gonna be any help to my defense. I thought about bust’n outta here but I don’t think Deputy Connors there would stand for it. He was kinda hoping I‘d hang, you know.

He just stood there with his left hip cocked and placed a gloved fist on it and glared at me. I guess he wasn’t in the mood for jokes. I raised an eyebrow. “Say… how come you ain’t on the next train to Laramie?”

He hooked his thumb in his gun belt. “That was your fool idea. What kind of pard would I be if I left you in this fix? I never intended to go home until after you left in the Tumbleweed Wagon, or better yet kept you from leaving at all.” The determined look on his face brooked no argument. “Anyway, Mort wired me saying he’s on his way and should arrive on tomorrow morning’s train.”

I dropped my chin to my chest in disbelief at the loyalty of my friends. I looked up at Slim and shook my head. “I wish you hadn’t told him, there’s nothing he can do now, it’s too late.”

Shaking his head stubbornly he said, “I believe there is… there are too many unanswered questions that I aim to find answers to and Mort can help. I didn’t get here until your trial was almost over and I had no time to do any investigating of my own. It’s my gut feeling that there’s something that didn’t come out in the trial that would prove your innocence.”

I looked up at him in frustration. “Slim, I can’t think of one question that wasn’t asked on my behalf so you’re just wasting your time. Go on home,”

Ignoring me he continued. “If you didn’t know him what could you and Reynolds have been arguing about and why did he drag you into that alley? All the witnesses said it was a one-sided argument with Reynolds doing all the talking and shouting.”

Not wanting the deputy to hear me, I lowered my voice. “Actually I just remembered this afternoon that I had met him a couple of days before he died. He was hopping mad when he stopped me on the street and warned me to stay away from his daughter. Remembering it during my trial probably would’ve done me more harm than good.”

Frowning, he pondered the information then nodded his head. “You’re probably right. The prosecutor would’ve jumped all over that piece of information and used it as your motive for killing the man.”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “I guess I didn’t exactly heed Reynolds’ warning when I invited Cheryl to go for a ride in the country. Maybe that’s why we argued that night. I suppose it won’t do no good to tell you there’s nothin’ you can do and that you should go home.” The room had darkened even more as the sun began to set. I shifted uncomfortably on the cot. Pain was building in my belly and beads of sweat were breaking out on my forehead and a damp bunch of hair fell down across my brow. I wiped the back of my sleeve across my face and forehead and ran my hand through my hair I attempting to shove my wayward hair out of my eyes. A grimace of pain in my gut forced its way across my face. The shadows I sat in hid what I was going through and I evaded Slim’s usually perceptive eyes. I guess he was too distracted with his pondering on how to get me outta here and home.

Slim wrapped his other fist around a bar and shook his head. “Not a chance, Pard. I can’t put my finger on it, but I know there’s more to what happened that night than what came out at your trial.” He looked at me with determination flashing in his pale blue eyes.

I grinned at him half heartedly. “What makes you think it was nothing more than an argument, Slim? You know I don’t push easy especially when someone tries to tell me what I can or can’t do. I shore wouldn’t have picked a fight with him over a girl I barely knew. Have to admit tho’ I sure did want to get to know her better. Fightn’ with her father woulda been a bad way to start a relationship with her for sure.”

“There has to be more to it than that. There’s something that just don’t ring true about how drunk you were when the argument broke out. You have the constitution of a horse and I’ve never known you to get fallin’ down drunk after one drink or even five. I think I’ll start with your girlfriend; maybe she could help. She seems to be the only connection between you and Reynolds.”

I looked up at him and sadly shook my head. Sad knowing that I would never see her again and that she’d never lift a finger to help me. I let out a sigh of frustration and rubbed my forehead with my palm. Mournfully I said, “There’s no point looking for Cheryl. She left town before my trial. She hates my guts so she wouldn’t help even if she could.”

I shifted my position on the cot again. The nagging pain had turned into rolling spasms that wouldn’t be denied. I clenched my teeth and rode it out and lowered my head. I didn’t dare let Slim know how bad I was feeling; I wanted him to go home.

I gruffly said to him, “Don’t be a fool, Slim. You belong back at the ranch, not here playing detective for me. I won’t let you do it. I doubt anything you find is gonna keep me from leaving in that Tumbleweed Wagon tomorrow. ”

“You can’t stop me, Jess. I figure I’m partly to blame you got into trouble,” his voice rose in anger. He jammed his hat down lower on his brow in a show of stubbornness.

I wanted to get up and knock some sense into his head but forced myself to sit quiet. I couldn’t have moved if I wanted to anyway. “Where did you get a lame-brained idea like that? You’re crazy if you think it’s your fault.”

Slim gripped the bars again and a look of remorse clouded his eyes. His voice softened. “If only I hadn’t insisted that you come here to handle the shipping of the stock I bought last month. I thought I was doing you a favor giving you a break from the daily grind of ranch work. You’re like a magnet Jess; trouble draws to you like bees to honey.”

I couldn’t help but grin when he spoke about trouble and me. He was right; I can’t seem to avoid trouble no matter how hard I try. I scowled at him for even thinking it was his fault. “So, when did you become my guardian angel and what makes you think that you coulda done any better?” I sighed in defeat, “Well, if I can’t persuade you to go home then I hope you do find something. I ain’t looking forward to spending the next ten years of my life breaking up big rocks into little bitty ones. That is… if I last that long.”

He just glared at me. Without another word, he shook his head and walked toward the front door. Retrieving his pistol from the deputy, he angrily shoved it in the holster and stormed out the door.

I slid down in my bunk ‘til I was on my back again. A nagging thought raised its ugly head…In less than a day I’ll be ridin’ in the Tumbleweed Wagon on my way to prison and there ain’t nothing I can do about it. I couldn’t stop thinking that I had missed something, a memory that drifted just out of my reach. I was feeling weak as a kitten and in spite of the pain I managed to drift off to sleep.

At suppertime Sheriff Mason brought a tray of food and I left it on the floor untouched. I had no appetite and the thought of eating anything made my stomach churn. The pain in my gut had eased to a slow throbbing ache and I decided that the best thing was to stay on my cot and move only if I had to. Slim hadn’t returned. That feeling of loneliness crept up on me again. I was on the verge of losing everything I cared about in a matter of hours. Harper, get a hold of yourself; he’ll be back. Slim’s busy trying to help ya and he can’t do that sitting here jawin’... I lay on my cot and tried to dredge up just one memory of that night until pain and exhaustion caught up with me and I either drifted off to sleep or passed out.

CHAPTER 2

Sunlight was streaming through the cell window when I came to. I sat up real careful and I pressed a hand to my stomach when I felt a pull on my gut and a spasm of pain. Grimacing, I rubbed my sleeve across my eyes trying to clear away the cobwebs of sleep and blot away the sudden beads of sweat that had broken out on my face. Slow and easy, I swung my feet over the side of the cot and regretted it immediately. Just that little move brought even more pain and the room spun uncontrollably. I leaned forward with my head between my knees, wrapped my arms around my belly and willed it to pass. A tray with a plate of greasy eggs, bacon and a slice of dry-looking bread sat on the stool outside my cell. The sight and smell of it made my stomach rebel and I looked away with a groan. The day was not starting out too well and the way I was feeling it didn’t appear things were gonna get any better.

My heart sank when I realized today was Thursday and the U.S. Marshal would soon be coming for me. Boots scraped across the floor as someone approached the cell. I looked up fearing that the boots belonged to the U. S. Marshal but then I slowly straightened as I as much as I could and smiled when I saw my friend and the sheriff of Laramie, Mort Cory, gazing down at me. I wondered if he had noticed how bad off I was. His weathered face looked grim but he didn’t appear to have seen my struggle. His clothes were rumpled and he needed a shave. It’s an over night train ride from Cheyenne to Boulder and I figured he’d come here straight from the station. Standing next to him was the ever-vigilant Sheriff Mason.

As if I couldn’t see for myself, Mason announced, “You got a visitor, Harper,” Then he pointed his chin at the untouched food frowning. “If’n ya ain’t gonna eat yer breakfast I’m throwing it out, just like I’ve done with most of your meals.”

My stomach churned again at the mention of food and I looked away and shook my head. “I’m not hungry Sheriff − you can give it to the hogs for all I care.” I wiped the back of my sleeve across my mouth to force back the bile that rose from my stomach.

Mort frowned and looked me over − concern furrowing his brow. I returned his gaze as bright eyed as I could muster. “Leave the food Sheriff; you can throw it away later if he doesn’t eat it. Would you mind if spoke to Jess alone?”

Mason nodded his head and held out his hand. “Just give me your weapon Sheriff Cory and you two can talk as long as you like.” He took Mort’s pistol and returned to his chair behind the desk.

He took a closer look at me. “Jess, are you feeling okay? You look awful pale and a lot thinner than the last time I saw you.” His gaze made me feel uncomfortable and I was afraid he’d see right through me so I tried to sit up straighter and smiled wanly at him. “Sure, I’m fine, just feeling a little tired is all. Jail bunks aren’t the most comfortable beds to sleep on. Those bars tend to close in on you after a while and it kinda takes away your appetite too.” Mort’s eyes softened and he looked down studying his boots as though he saw something unpleasant stuck to one of them. I almost felt sorry that I had to make him feel bad but I wanted to get his mind off my health. “It sure is good to see your ugly face. If you’re here to make sure I stay out of trouble you’re a little late.” He shot me a glare that only he could make. I grinned ruefully; I had won that round.

My attempt to make light of my situation failed to erase the look of gloom on his face. The pain in my gut had settled to a bearable ache so I eased off my bunk, stood as straight as I could and took the two steps to the bars and reached through to shake his hand. “Thanks for coming, but Slim shouldn’t have bothered you.” I casual like grabbed a bar in each hand and hung on to them for support. My rubbery legs needed all the help they could get.

Mort pulled up a chair and sat down. “Can’t think of any place I’d rather be than here, Jess. I feel like I’ve let you down and I’m sorry I couldn’t get here any sooner. You were asleep when I arrived and Sheriff Mason filled me in on the details of your trial. You didn’t help much when you wouldn’t speak up in your own defense.”

I sat down on the stool opposite him. I reclaimed the bars in front of me with both hands and leaned my elbows on my knees. “Yeah I know.” I looked down at my feet and rubbed my aching stomach. Gazing back up at him I said, “Mort, there was nothing to say. Not being able to remember anything is a pretty lame defense so I felt it was best to keep my mouth shut. I feel lucky I’m only waiting for the Tumbleweed Wagon to arrive today instead of the hangman.”

His face paled a little when I said “hangman”. He nodded his head and took a red bandana from his back pocket. He wiped his brow and face with it then tucked it back in its place. He looked around the room questioningly. “Where’s Slim? I thought he’d be here with you.”

“I’m not sure.” I shrugged my shoulders. My hands were sweaty and I tightened my grip on the bars. “He came up with the fool notion that he could find new evidence that would get me off. I tried to convince him he was wasting his time but you know Slim…” The pain in my gut was getting worse and I was feeling awful weak; I wished Mort would leave − my whole body was screaming for me to lie down. I was quietly gasping for breath and I had broken out into a cold sweat. It was beginning to dawn on me that something was terribly wrong with me but I was determined to keep it from Mort and Slim. I figured if I gave it a couple of days of rest I’d be right as rain. A couple of bad bruises ain’t nothin’ to worry about; at least I hoped that was all it was… the memory of feeling something tear inside me when I fell reared its ugly head, but I shrugged it off.

The corners of Mort’s mouth turned down as he mulled over what to say. “Even if he does find something there’s not enough time to do anything about it. You know I’ll be right beside him looking, Jess. But it looks like you’ll have to leave with the marshal today. I sure am sorry. Like Slim, I believe there’s something fishy about that shooting. I just hope we can figure out what it is and get you an appeal before too long.

“No sorrier than I am, Mort. Do me a favor, will ya?” I reached through the bars and squeezed his arm.

“Anything, Jess.” He looked me straight in the eyes as if to assure me that he’d do whatever it was that I asked of him. His lower lip trembled a little. I had the feeling that he knew it would be the last favor I’d ever ask of him.

My throat tightened and I swallowed hard. My voice was hoarse with emotion when I finally spoke. “Make sure Slim goes back to Laramie after I leave, will ya? Jonesy and Andy can’t run the ranch by themselves and he’s liable to lose his contract with the stage line if he’s not there to take care of things. Without that contract, he could lose the ranch. I wouldn’t last a day in prison if I knew my problems had led to his ruin.”

He rubbed his chin and looked at me; a hint of incredulity clouding his eyes. “Slim’s his own man and I don’t blame him for wanting to stick around ‘cause that’s what I aim to do too. I’m planning to ask a few questions of my own but I’ll be back before it’s time to see you off. Just maybe between Slim and me we can dig up something in the meantime. It might not keep you from going to prison but we’re sure gonna work on getting you outta there as soon as we can.” He pushed his hat back. “By the way, I hear Marshal McGary is taking you to prison. Isn’t he a friend of yours?”

Branch McGary… at least I’ll have one friendly face at my side when they lock me up. “Yeah, Mac saved my life once and we rode together for awhile before he became a U.S. Marshal. He’s a good man.” A hint of a smile started in the corners of my mouth and then quickly vanished when I realized that Branch was the last person I’d want to see today. Friend or no friend I had no desire to see him one bit.

“I’ll see you later, Jess,” He gave me an encouraging smile and shook my hand then settling his hat back down firmly on his forehead he stood up and left.

I leaned my head against the bars and watched him disappear through the door. I returned to my cot and lay down. I felt lucky to have Mort as a friend. In the year or so that I had known him we’d become good friends. I had occasionally served as his deputy when he was out of town or needed an extra hand. With my trouble checkered past and reputation as a fast gun for hire, I was amazed at the trust he’d placed in me. I shook my head and told myself, Harper, forget those days, you’re gonna need all your strength and wits to survive the future. Ten years… might as well be an eternity. I covered my eyes with my arm as despair began to close around my heart like an iron fist. I pressed my hands to my stomach hoping to ease the pain and still the nausea that refused to go away.

I don’t know how long I lay half conscious trying to ignore my aching gut when the sound of approaching boots on the jailhouse boardwalk dragged me back to reality. I glanced up as U.S. Marshal Branch McGary opened the door and stepped inside. Mac spoke to Sheriff Mason then turned and looked at me; surprise and disbelief spread over his sun weathered and craggy face when he saw me.

A smile started to break across my face and then turned to a frown when I remembered why he was here. His presence meant only one thing – I would soon be on my way to prison.

He walked up to my cell and pushed his hat back off his forehead revealing a deeply furrowed brow. “Jess boy, I had no idea you were the prisoner I came to pick up today. Now I wish I hadn’t rushed to get here. Never thought you’d be a passenger in my wagon; especially after I heard you’d found yourself a new life as a peaceful law-abiding rancher and sometime deputy. How in the world did you end up with a prison sentence hanging over your head?”

I didn’t answer him. I laid my arm over my eyes and turned my face away from him hoping he’d leave me alone − the sheriff could answer his questions. My mood had dropped to an all time low as time ran out on me. A vision of prison walls surrounding me came to mind and I sank into self pity thinking about all the things that I would never have the chance to do. My life had come to an end just the same as if I’d been sentenced to hang.

Mac sighed. “I don’t blame ya for not wanting to talk, Jess boy. We’ll have plenty of time later on the road.” I turned my head toward him again when I heard him walk away. He gave Sheriff Mason a handful of papers. “Here’s his transfer papers Sheriff. Is there anything else I need to do to take charge of my prisoner? I’m on a tight schedule and I’d like to get this done quick so I can leave for Denver.”

Mason mumbled something about having to go see Judge Rawlins then he spoke to Deputy Connors. When I realized that the sheriff was leaving me alone with Connors I threw aside my self pity and watched the deputy warily from the cover of my arm. He was slouching in a chair in the corner of the room and picking at his broken and rotten teeth with a toothpick.

Mason said, “I’ll be back in about an hour, Rafe.” Connors nodded his head and grunted something unintelligible and tilted his chair back against the wall. The sheriff continued, “If anyone comes to visit Harper, let them stay for as long as they like - you know the routine.” The deputy nodded his head again and as the sheriff picked up the transfer papers he motioned Mac to precede him out the door. Connors had pulled down the brim of his hat to cover his face and dropped his chin on his chest as though he hadn’t a care in the world.

As soon as the door closed I watched as Connors began to ease the front chair legs to the floor. He rose to his feet sneering at me as he strolled up to the cell door. The look on his face gave me an uneasy feeling and I wondered what he was up to. I pulled my arm away from my face to let him know I was watching him. The sneer broadened into one of sheer hatred when he saw me looking at him.

“Well, Harper, it won’t be long now”, he snarled. “Sure wish I coulda seen ya hang. Maybe I’ll come down and visit ya in prison just to see how yer doing after those prison guards have knocked ya down to size.” He grinned menacingly. I had heard the warden had a reputation for trying to break a new prisoner’s spirit as soon as he arrived. Then he said the one thing that I couldn’t keep from reacting to: “It’s my guess that my cousin Cheryl will be happy to hear you’ll finally get your just deserts. She wanted to see you hang more’n I did.”

“Why, you…!” I yelled. All my pent up emotions came boiling to the surface and my hatred for him made me throw caution to the wind. Forgetting about my torn insides, I lunged at him trying to reach him through the bars of the cell door. The room flipped before my eyes and a crippling spasm of pain in my stomach hit me so bad that I almost collapsed to the floor. I grabbed the bars gasping for breath and struggled to pull myself up. Too late, I saw that Connors was holding his club under his left arm and a pair of manacles in his right. Before I could pull my hands away, he slapped one end on my left wrist and jerked my arm between the bars pinning my body to them. Then he snapped the other end of the manacles to the cross bar above my head. My head hit a bar and I saw stars. Hanging by my cuffed wrist, I tried in vain to move out of his reach. Helpless to stop him I closed my eyes and steeled myself against the blow I knew was coming but the blow never landed…

My head reeling; I became aware of the sound of a door opening and rapidly approaching footsteps. Opening my eyes, I saw Mort and Slim rushing at the deputy with drawn pistols. I grabbed at a cell bar trying to ease the pull of the cuff on my wrist and gut. I was feeling awful weak and didn’t know how much longer I could hold on. I watched with relief as Mort and Slim approached the deputy. I looked at Connors and smiled smugly when I saw the look of fear grow in his eyes when he saw Slim looming behind Mort. He stood frozen in his boots his axe handle still poised to strike me.

“What’s going on?” Mort’s face was livid and outrage rang in his voice. “I’ll have your badge for this, Deputy.” He jerked the club out of Connor’s hand throwing it across the room and then gave him a hard, rough shove away from me and in Slim’s direction.

Slim caught the deputy and removed his gun from its holster stuffing behind his belt. Then he searched the deputy’s pockets and finding the key to the manacles he gave them to Mort. He never let go his iron grip on Connors’ arm.

Mort gingerly removed the irons. “There you go, Jess. Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” He studied my face and I turned my head away from his prying eyes. Not trusting my voice, I just nodded my head, leaned against the bars and clung to them with both hands for support. Pain was rolling through my gut like a herd of stampeding buffalo. He leaned closer trying to see my face. His tone softened when he spoke, “Jess, answer me, did he hurt you?”

“No”. Nausea was building in my throat and the room refused to hold still. I was afraid to let go of the bars. I dropped my chin to my chest hoping they hadn’t noticed the river of sweat that ran down my face and dripped from my nose. I knew something bad was going on inside me. I felt worse now than I did when I fell.

Gaining my composure a little, I looked up − Slim’s face was red with rage and his pale blue eyes had turned the color of midnight. “He better not have or I’ll have his hide strung on a hitching post before he knows what hit him. On second thought, I think I’ll just pound the hell out of him right here.” Slim pinned Connors’ against the bars of the adjoining cell and reared back his right fist threateningly while keeping an iron grip on the man’s arm with his left.

The frightened deputy started cussing furiously as he struggled to pull himself free. “You can’t do this to me! I’m the law here. Gimme my gun back! The prisoner was threatening me and I was only trying to subdue him.”

Looking like a wild man Slim pulled Connors’ face close to his own. In a loud threatening voice he yelled, “How was he a threat to you locked behind those bars?” Then he shoved the frightened deputy across the room stumbling backwards and into the gun rack on the far wall. With great satisfaction, I watched as the deputy’s head hit the bottom shelf with a loud “thud” and groaning loudly, Connors slid slowly to the floor out cold.

Slim grinned lopsidedly. “Oops, sorry, I don’t seem to know my own strength,” He turned his eyes toward me and the grin melted away when he saw me. His eyes bored into me while I rubbed the bump on my forehead and wiped the sweat off my face with my shirtsleeve. “Are you sure you ain’t hurt?” he asked.

I tightened my grip on the bars and willed my legs to stop trembling. I took a deep breath to steady my voice before I spoke. “Yeah, I’m sure. Thanks for saving my hide, guys. Gabe Reynolds was his uncle and he’s been really pissed I’m not going to hang. Soon after I was arrested, Connors clubbed me in the stomach when I didn’t move away from the cell door fast enough to suit him.”

Slim moved closer to me; creases of concern lined his brow. “You should’ve reported him.” His stare made me want to turn away, but if I did I knew he’d catch on to my lie in a minute.

I gripped the bars tighter and tried to pull myself up straighter. “I was still groggy and out of sorts so I didn’t see it coming. It would’ve been my word against his and there’s no mystery whose story the sheriff would’ve believed. I’ve had a sore stomach since I woke up in that alley and that clubbing he gave me didn’t help it none. I’m all black and blue just below my ribs.” Damn, why’d I say that? Now, they’re gonna want to take a look.

Slim looked at me closer. “Jess, you don’t look so good - you’re white as a ghost. Let me see those bruises.” He reached between the bars and attempted to grab my shirt. I tried to move away but didn’t have the strength and I desperately struggled to stay on my feet. I hung on to the bars as my legs gave way and I slipped to the floor and sat leaning against the bars and pressing my hands to my gut. I fought to stay conscious as waves of pain ran through me and the room tilted again and then righted itself. A cold wash of weakness had spread over me. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to hang on to consciousness. Barely able to speak I managed to rasp in a strangled voice, “Slim… I know… you never th-thought… you’d ever hear me… say this…, but I feel… really bad. I hate to admit… it but… I-I think… I need a…d-doctor.”

Mort retrieved the keys to the cell from the desk drawer and quickly unlocked the door. Slim knelt on the floor and supported my head and shoulders against his knee. Mort found his voice first. “I thought there was something wrong with you when I first saw you this morning.”

“You stubborn proud fool, what in the world were you thinking?” Slim picked me up in his arms and laid me down on the cot as though I were a baby. He pulled off my boots and removed my bandana. When he unbuttoned my shirt and pulled it apart to bare my stomach I forced my eyes open a crack. He noticed I was looking at him and he turned his face away but not before I saw the look of shock in his eyes. He squeeze my shoulder. When he spoke his voice was barely audible. “Jess, don’t you worry you’re going to be alright, we’ll get a doctor to fix you up and you’ll be fine in no time.”

I nodded my head and closed my eyes. It sure was easier than trying to keep them open. I didn’t believe a word he said. But I managed to mumble, “Sure… Slim… sure.”

Mort had remained outside the cell. “Slim, you lock the deputy in the first cell and I’ll go find a doctor and the sheriff.”

“Okay, Jess and I’ll be fine, won’t we, Pard? I opened my eyes a bit and managed a half grin. Being flat on my back had restored some of my strength. “Sure Slim, I’m feeling better already.”

Mort headed for the door and left. Slim walked over to the deputy who was still out cold on the floor. I watched him pick up the unconscious deputy by an arm and drag him into the front cell leaving an empty cell between us. He dumped Connors on the floor with a resounding thud and locked the door. He poured a glass of water from the pitcher on the sheriff’s desk and sat down on the stool beside me. “Here, Jess, drink this,” he said softly as he lifted my head and held the glass to my lips.

I drank it greedily. I hadn’t realized how thirsty I was and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had anything to drink. I pushed the glass away when I’d had my fill. “Thanks. I reckon you’d better vacate my cell and lock the door behind you. Don’t want the sheriff to get the wrong idea.”

“Let him. I’m not leaving your side. You just lie there and rest, Pard. Let me worry about the sheriff.” He leaned back on the bars with a look of determination.

A groan and a round of cuss words came out of the first cell. We’d forgotten about the deputy. “ Let me outta here, I got rights! you can’t knock me around and lock me in a cell. Where’s Sheriff Mason? He’ll tell ya that I ain’t done nothing wrong.” He tried to shake the cell door open and then started yelling at the top of his lungs. Without a word Slim picked up the set of manacles approached Connors with his pistol leveled at him. He motioned for Connors to move away from the door and then unlocked it. Connors didn’t utter a word when Slim shoved him on his back on the cot and snapped a cuff on one wrist and pulling his arm over his head he looped the other end through the rail on the cot and snapped the manacle on his other wrist. He fought to get away when Slim balled up his bandana and jammed it in Connors mouth. Connors’ muffled complaints began anew so Slim hauled off and slugged him in the jaw and the man collapsed senseless on the bed.

Slim never ceased to amaze me. He grinned down at me when he returned to the stool by my bed. I tried to smile back but I felt awful tired so I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms protectively around my stomach. I must have passed out and woke when I heard heavy footsteps approaching my cell. I cracked my eyes open a little and saw Sheriff Mason, Mort and a kindly looking elderly man carrying a doctor's bag standing outside my cell. Slim vacated his stool and stepped out to let the doctor in.

The sheriff didn’t look too happy when he saw my cell door standing wide open and he drew his gun and leveled it at me. Then he stepped aside to let the doctor in. He stood just behind the doc keeping a cautious eye and his pistol aimed in my direction.

“Mr. Harper, my name is Doctor Owen. Sheriff Cory says you’re badly injured and have some massive bruises that I should look at. Is it alright if I take a look?” I nodded and he leaned over me baring my stomach. He stood up quickly after a quick glance. He was obviously shocked at what he saw. The look on his face worried the devil out of me.

Sheriff Mason shifted his feet impatiently then finally broke the silence “Well, Doc Owen? What do ya think? Is he fit enough to travel today?”

Frowning, the doctor turned to answer and responded with indignation, “I won’t know until I examine him and I could use a little more room in here, Tom.” Sheriff Mason shrugged his shoulders, left the cell and locked it.

Doctor Owen sat down again and placed his bag on the floor next to him. “Okay, son, tell me how you got these ugly bruises.” I told him and he shook his head sympathetically. “Sounds like you’ve had your share of trouble since you landed in our jail. The bruises on your stomach are evidence of that.” He pulled the stool closer me and laid his hand on my shoulder. “Relax, Mr. Harper, just lie still and let me see if I can figure out what’s causing you so much trouble. He opened his bag, pulled out a stethoscope, and began to run it over my heart and lungs and then my belly. “This may hurt a bit.” He dropped the scope and began to push and probe all around my stomach. It wasn’t too bad until he hit a really bad spot. I pushed his hands away and doubled my knees up in pain and wrapped my arms around my stomach. Clenching my teeth, I tried to stifle a groan without much luck and a loud moan escaped my lips. The room tilted and everything went gray. I fought to stay conscious and prayed the pain would go away fast.

The doctor looked down at me with a pained expression of sympathy and reached for my hands. “I’m sorry I have to hurt you, Mr. Harper, but it can’t be helped. There’s no other way to find out how bad the damage to your abdomen is.” He gently pulled my hands away from my stomach, straightened my legs and began his probing again.

This time I didn’t care if anyone heard me moan from the waves of pain that wracked my body as he relentlessly prodded every painful spot he could find. I was barely conscious when his prodding hands finally stopped. I opened my eyes and looked at him through a red haze.

Letting out his breath, he ran his hands through his sparse gray hair. Concern lined his brow. “Well, Mr. Harper, it looks like you won’t be going anywhere today. You’ve suffered some severe internal injuries that will require you to be confined to a bed for at least two weeks or more.”

I couldn’t believe I had heard him right and I held back a huge smile when I saw the worry mirrored in his eyes. “Are you serious? Do you mean, these bruises are going to keep me from leaving for prison today?” I asked.

Doctor Owen’s voice turned stern and he pointed his finger at me. “I’m dead serious. It’ll take you about two weeks or more to recover. That is, young man, if you stay in bed and do not move any more than necessary. I’m convinced there’s a small tear in your spleen that’s causing you to bleed internally and if the hemorrhaging doesn’t stop soon I’ll have to operate. Problem is - the operation could be as fatal as if I did nothing at all.” He paused and tweaked his ear. “But, if it’s any consolation, I’d like you to know that I’ve been very successful saving the lives of several men with the same kind injury as yours.”

“I’ll behave myself, Doc; I promise. I’m not too keen on the idea of being cut open and I sure as hell don’t want to die.”

He looked at me seriously. “I hope you will young man.”

I nodded. The idea that I might die scared the hell out of me. Knowing that I wouldn’t be leaving for prison today almost made the hell I just went through worth it.

Doctor Owen smiled his approval and said, “Good, and to help you keep your promise I’m going to give you something that will ease the pain and help you sleep. You need to get as much rest as possible.” He reached into his bag and pulled out a bottle of brown liquid that looked suspiciously like Laudanum. He filled a large spoon with the painkiller and before I could object he put his hand under my head and held the spoon to my mouth. I looked at him and decided not to resist. I obediently swallowed it shuddering at its taste. “Your pain should ease soon and hopefully you’ll fall asleep.” I closed my eyes when the sheriff let him out of my cell.

When I heard him begin to speak again, I opened my eyes. I wasn’t about to let myself fall asleep when I realized he was talking about me so I clung to consciousness and watched and listened as Doctor Owen related how desperate my situation was.

“Harper’s a very lucky young man. If he weren’t in such good physical shape and hadn’t been confined to that small cell, I think he would’ve most certainly bled to death by now. Frankly, I don’t know how he’s managed to stay on his feet for as long as he has.”

Sheriff Mason didn’t sound too happy that I wasn’t able to travel. “The U.S. Marshal is already here to pick him up and the prison warden is expecting him to arrive there next Wednesday.” He complained. “What do I tell them?”

Doctor Owen gave the sheriff a perturbed look. “Haven’t you been listening to me, Tom? The man’s condition is very serious. “Tell them that if Mr. Harper leaves in that Tumbleweed Wagon today, the marshal will be delivering a dead man, mark my words.” He sighed and softly added, “It’ll be a miracle if he survives at all even under my care.”

I don’t think that last remark had been meant for my ears. But I did hear it and a cold chill washed over me. I realized that my stubborn pride might have cost me my life.

Mason scratched his jaw. “If that’s the case I’ll have to get approval from Judge Rawlins and then wire Warden Jacobs. Doc Owen, I’ll need you to come with me when I speak to the judge.

Ignoring the sheriff the doctor continued, “Mr. Harper needs to be monitored around the clock. Under the circumstances, I think he should be moved to one of my treatment rooms in my office where he can receive the care he needs and my wife can assist me.”

The sheriff shook his head adamantly. “Not a chance, Doc, he’s not leaving his cell. You’ll just have to make do with treating him here. He removed his hat and threw it on his desk. He stiffened when he saw the glares from Slim and Mort. He rested his hand on his gun butt ready for a fight if they gave him any trouble.

Determined not give in, Doctor Owen continued his plea, “But what if he worsens, time would be critical and any delay could be fatal. I insist that you…”

Cutting off the doctor Mason angrily snapped back, “He stays put and that’s final.” The sheriff’s look brooked no argument.

Slim went rigid when Mason refused to give in. He squared his shoulders and pressed close to the lawman glaring down at him menacingly. His blue eyes darkened and his jaw tightened. “Look here Sheriff, what harm would it do to let Jess stay at the doctor’s? He’s in no shape to cause any trouble much less escape. Are you itching to see him die?”

Mason raised his left hand - palm up – placing it on Slim’s chest holding him off as he took a step backward and drew his colt with his right. “Back off Sherman, I don’t want any trouble here. This is my jail and what I say goes. The law says he’s to remain in my jail until he’s placed in the custody of a Federal Marshal and that ain’t happened yet.” Slim didn’t budge a muscle and his jaw twitched. His hands closed and opened into tight fists his gloves stretching over his knuckles. His chest heaved with every angry breath that he drew.

Mort tried to break the tension between the two men putting a hand on Slim’s shoulder and attempted to turn him away from the sheriff. Slim shrugged off Mort’s hand and held his ground. Mort spoke to him softly, “Take it easy, Slim. Settle down. The sheriff’s only doing his duty.” Slim’s shoulders dropped in resignation and he held his palms up to the sheriff. Then dropped them and reluctantly turned away in defeat. He glanced over at me and shrugged his shoulders his eyes softening with regret.

The doctor tried a new tactic “Tom, are you willing to keep a 24 hour vigil over my patient? You’ll have to spoon feed him, keep him supplied with fluids and see to his bodily needs as well as monitor his condition 24 hours a day.”

Scowling at the doctor Mason said, “Now Doc Owen, you know I can’t do my job and take care of Harper too. You’ll have to get someone else to do it; they can stay here and sleep in an empty cell as long as they don’t interfere with the performance of my duties.

Shoulders slumping in resignation he turned to my friends. “Well, you heard the sheriff. Since we can’t move Jess to my office can I count on you two men to help look after him?”

They spoke almost in unison. “We’ll be happy to, doc.” Slim added… “Don’t you worry; Mort and I will take turns. Jess isn’t an easy patient and not one for lying in bed for very long, but we’ll make sure he behaves himself even if we have to tie him to that cot.”

A small smile broke across the doctor’s face. “Thank you gentlemen, I had a hunch I could count on you. He’s not to have anything to eat but beef broth. He needs lots of water too. No solid foods until I say so. My wife will provide the broth. He’s not to have any coffee or any kind of alcoholic drink. If you’ll come by my office later Mrs. Mason will have some broth ready for you. Try and get him to drink as much of it and as often as you can.”

I opened my eyes wider. I wanted to protest about the coffee but my lips had gone numb from the Laudanum. Probably wouldn’t have done no good to try anyway.

“Thank you so much for your help, Doctor Owen,” Slim added shaking the doctor’s hand.

The elderly doctor smiled. “If Jess’ condition worsens get me immediately no matter what the hour; his life may depend on it.” He pulled Slim and Mort aside and out of my earshot. I could tell he was talking about me and he slipped something into Slim’s hand.

Mort and Slim accompanied him to the door. They stopped when it opened and Mac walked into the room. He stopped short when his eyes settled on the doctor and his medical bag.

“What’s going on here? Did someone get hurt?” Then he noticed me lying on my cot. I imagine I didn’t look too perky. He came closer and peered through the bars at me. I must have looked pretty bad because his face fell. “Jess, what happened to you? You look white as a ghost.”

I said nothing and feebly waved my hand in the direction of Doctor Owen. The doctor had totally knocked the wind outta my sails with his prodding fingers and that dose of Laudanum was beginning to work. I could barely keep my eyes open and it was hard to concentrate.

The doctor repeated what he had told the others. When Mac heard that I would be laid up for more than two weeks he just shook his head and informed Sheriff Mason that he had to be on his way. He added that he’d be back when he made his return trip in a couple of weeks. As Mac left he called out to me, “Hope you get better soon, Jess.”

I didn’t answer. I had something else on my mind; I had finally remembered what had happened in that dark alley the night of the shooting and why I was there. While the doc was examining me, the events of that fateful night had come flooding back… The combination of the pain and the appearance of a vision in the doorway of the jail had finally freed the memories of that night that had been trapped deep in my mind. I clung to one thought and smiled… I had finally gotten my memory back and along with it I had found hope again. I surrendered to the pull of the drug and let the blackness wash over me.

**********

Slim and Mort followed Doctor Owen to the door.  Slim shook the doctor’s hand. “Thanks for your help, Doc. How much do I owe for Jess’ treatment?”

Doctor Owen answered, “You don’t owe me a thing, Mr. Sherman. He was injured in the care of the city so Boulder will take care of everything.” The doctor shook Mort’s hand. “I’m counting on you both to follow my instructions to the letter. I’ll be back later this evening to check on my patient.”

The sheriff from Laramie and the tall blond rancher watched as the doctor walked down the street toward his office. Their attention was brought back to the room when they heard a low moan emitting from the cell next to them. The moan turned into a muffled yell and both men looked down at the deputy who was just regaining consciousness. His face turned beet red with rage as he tried to be heard through the bandana that was stuffed in his mouth.

With the arrival of Doctor Owen and concern for the injured cowboy’s well being, everyone including the sheriff had completely forgotten about the unconscious, manacled and gagged deputy.  When Mort found the sheriff earlier, he had informed him that his deputy was out cold and locked up in a cell. He had assured Sheriff Mason that his deputy wasn’t injured badly and would be okay. Mason accepted Mort’s story and had evidently forgotten about him until that moment.

Sheriff Mason grabbed the keys, unlocked the cell and released Connors from his restraints. The deputy jerked the gag out of his mouth and started cursing. “#@@&%%$# Sheriff Mason, arrest these men, they assaulted me and locked me up.”

He tried to grab Mason’s weapon but the sheriff stepped back holding on to his gun butt. “Hold on Rafe, these men said you tried to hit Harper with an axe handle. Harper claims you had hit him before with the same club while he was our prisoner. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I say Harper’s a liar and he can’t prove anything. It’s his word against mine.”  The deputy glanced in Slim’s direction as he spoke then stepped to stand beside Mason, fear glinting in his eyes when he saw the anger on the big rancher’s face.

Slim stepped up and grabbed Connors shirt front with both hands. Doubling it up in his fists he drew the deputy close to his face literally lifting the man to the tips of his toes. “I saw you shove Jess off the courthouse porch and then try to kick him while he was down. Are you denying that?”

Connors grabbed Slim’s wrists and tried to extricate himself from his grasp. Failing he yelled, “Sheriff Mason, make him let me go, he can’t prove a thing. Harper tripped on the top step and I tried to grab him, that’s all. Sherman’s lying about the kick. He attacked me in the street and here in the jail. He’s the one who should be should be put in jail. Arrest him!”

Mason drew his revolver and grabbed Slim’s arm. “Let him go Sherman, he’s right, without witnesses I have no authority to hold him. Besides, Harper…” The sheriff hesitated to finish his sentence when Slim turned his anger in his direction.

Slim dropped his hold on the deputy and turned on the sheriff bellowing; his words like rapid gunfire, “A convicted killer? Is that what you were going to say? You mean his word isn’t worth anything? What about his injuries? How do you explain them?” Slim glared at the sheriff defiantly, his eyes cold with rage.

During the commotion with Connors the injured man in the back cell was forgotten until Jess moaned and called out groggily, “S-Slim? W-What’s going on?” He raised a shaky hand then dropped it to his side. The three men looked in his direction and the room became quiet. Connors opened his mouth to say something and Slim clamped his hand over the deputy’s mouth to shut him up. He glared a warning and then stepped to his pard’s cell door to check on him. Peering through the bars Slim assured himself that his friend was okay and returned to face the Sheriff.

The tall rancher’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “Mort, ain’t you going to help me out here? You haven’t said a word − or do you agree with Mason?”

The Laramie sheriff had stood by silently while his friend took his anger out on the deputy. He had wanted to join in but held back. He wanted desperately to side with the man. Instead he simply said, “Slim, as much as we don’t like it I’m afraid the sheriff has a point. No jury in this town will believe Jess over one of its own.” He glanced at the lawman. “Mason, you know and I know that Jess didn’t get those injuries from just a fall. It looks like we’re at an impasse. I have a suggestion…” Mort gave Connors a calculating look then turned his eyes back to Mason. “I tell you what, we won’t file charges against Deputy Connors and you’ll forget about filing charges against Mr. Sherman.” He looked up at the big man. “Right, Slim?”

Slim scowled at Connors. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at the floor as he thought about Mort’s suggestion He reluctantly nodded his head. “Yeah, I guess it’s the only solution. But... only on the condition that Sheriff Mason fires Connors for what he was about to do to Jess when we walked in.”

Connors opened his mouth to protest, glanced at Slim, shut his mouth and reached a hand up to his collar as though fearing a repeat of the big man's last reaction to his objections.

The usually stern face of the Boulder lawman softened a little. “Sherman, I really am sorry your friend was injured in my custody. I don’t hold with mistreatment of my prisoners no matter what their crime. I don’t believe Harper lied, but without proof my hands are tied.” He turned to Connors. “Rafe, you’re fired; I’m keeping your gun until you cool off. Give me your badge, collect your gear and clear out of here. Consider yourself lucky I don’t throw your ass in jail.”

The burly ex-deputy sneered at the two Laramie men, “I won’t forget what you’ve done, Sherman, I’ll get even, you mark my words.” He threw his badge at the sheriff’s feet grabbed his jacket off the coat rack and stomped out the door. As he left he glanced back at Mason and snarled, "If you find anything else of mine you can keep it."

Slim watched his receding back and mumbled to Mort, “There just don’t seem to be no justice where Jess is concerned.”

Mort nodded, walked to Jess’ cell and glanced down at their hapless friend then turned back to Slim. “If it’s okay with you, Slim, why don’t you take the first watch? I could use some air, and while I'm out I'll check out the shooting scene then stop by the doc’s office and pick up that broth for Jess.” Without waiting for an answer Mort left the jail.

Jess moaned again and Slim turned his attention back to his injured friend. Worry and dread squeezed his heart and a lump formed in his throat when he saw him moving restlessly about on the cot his hands grabbing at his gut as though he were in pain.

The big man pulled his eyes away from his partner. He swallowed hard speaking huskily, “Look Sheriff, if you don’t mind, I’d like to sit in the cell with Jess. Even with that dose of Laudanum in him he seems to still be in a lot of pain.” Nodding Mason grabbed his keys and opened the cell door.

Mason locked him in and he sat next to the bed. He placed a comforting hand on his injured friend's shoulder as if willing the pain to go away. Several minutes later Jess’ restless movements stopped, his breathing settled and he appeared to fall into a deep and restful sleep. 

CHAPTER 3

My world was reduced to an unending darkness; broken only by moments of semi consciousness brought on by pain and the awareness of Slim or Mort giving me water and some sort of broth followed by the bitter taste of Laudanum. I fought to stay awake but the effects of the drug would take hold again and I lost all track of time…

I dreamt I was in pain and at Connors mercy again. I heard myself call out and the sound of my voice woke me. I opened my eyes to darkness. The vision of Connors had vanished but the pain in my gut remained and throbbed with the pounding of my heart. I felt groggy and confused; my mouth was as dry as the cotton I used to pick as a kid in the Texas Panhandle. I shook my head trying to clear the cobwebs and knuckled my eyes trying to make out where I was. Groaning with the effort, I tried to sit up but a pair of strong hands grasped my shoulders and pinned me to my bed and I panicked. In spite of the pain it caused me I struggled to get away until the reassuring voice of my boss and partner registered in my fuzzy brain.

.

“Easy there, Jess, don’t fight me. It’s me, Slim. You need to lie still, remember?” I relaxed and he released his hold on me. “You were moaning in your sleep; are you okay?

“Yeah, I… must’ve… been having… a bad dream.” My dry throat made my voice sound hoarse and raspy and it was difficult to talk. The pain in my stomach settled some and I looked up at him blinking my eyes trying to see his face in the darkness. I rubbed my eyes again and his concerned face swam into focus when he lit the lantern hanging above my head. “W-what …time is it?” I coughed to clear my throat.

Slim shoved a couple of pillows under my head. “About six-thirty in the morning.”

Before I could say anything he held a cup of water to my lips. “Here, drink this.” I drank greedily, the water cooling as it soothed my parched throat.

I swiped a couple of drops off my mouth with the back of my hand. “Thanks, I was really dry.”

Holding the cup up again he asked, “Want some more?”

“No… thanks.” The smell of soup coming from the tray made me realize that I was hungry. I pointed at the tray. “I’m hungry; ya got anything to eat other than soup?”

Slim shook his head. “Nope… just the beef broth − It’s all you can have until you’re better.” He helped me drink and it tasted real familiar. I eyed him suspiciously while I finished the broth. “I seem to remember you or Mort giving me this same broth and what I’m guessing was Laudanum several times through the night. Y’all were so fast with that drug I never got a chance to wake up.”

He ran a finger alongside his nose and made a wry face. “Well Jess, you see… uh, well, it’s not Friday morning, it’s Saturday. You were hurtin’ so bad Doc wanted to keep you out so he doubled up on the Laudanum. Told me last night we could cut it back a bit. I’m glad to see you’re coming around some.” While he talked he filled a large spoon with the painkiller.

I couldn’t believe I heard him right. “You mean I’ve been asleep for almost two days?” I was overwhelmed by the time I’d lost.

“I wouldn’t kid you about a thing like that, Pard.” Slim shifted uncomfortably on the stool still holding the drug filled spoon.

I scowled at the spoon. “Look, too much is at stake for me to sleep away what little time I have left before I leave for prison.” I wanted badly to tell him that I finally remembered what had happened in that alley, but I needed to sort out all the flashes of memory first. The fog the pain killer had left me in was beginning to lift some and the pieces were slowly falling into place. I just needed a little more time.

“All you need to do is work on getting better. You let Mort and me worry about getting you outta this mess. Mort’s out checking a lead right now.” When I opened my mouth to protest he jammed the spoon in and it was either swallow or choke on it.

I sputtered and protested. “Slim, you didn’t have to do that!”

Slim smirked and his pale blue eyes softened with sympathy. “Well, maybe not but by the look on your face I could tell you were gonna give me an argument.”

I shuddered as the stuff burned its way down my throat. “Yeah, well, do you blame me?”

He grinned broadly his face lighting up with his smile. “Nope, it’s pretty bad tastin’ stuff alright.” His smile faded and he squeezed my shoulder. He picked up the tray and stood up. “Anything else I can get you?”

“No, I’m fine for now, thanks.” I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands. I was determined to stay awake in spite of the drug. I had a lot to think about before I fell asleep again.

“You rest easy now. Just give a holler if you need anything. I’ll be in the next cell.” He called out to the sheriff and Mason let him out.

I closed my eyes and concentrated on the last thought I had before I fell asleep Thursday afternoon… Slowly the bits and pieces of memory of that fateful night began to fit together until I remembered everything. Amazingly, a sight I had never expected to see again had triggered the return of my memory…..

While the doctor was examining me, a golden haired ivory skinned angel dressed in a green satin dress stepped through the door of the jail unnoticed by anyone else in the room. Concern and shock written on her face, she started to speak until I locked my eyes with hers. For some reason that now escapes me, I shook my head to still her voice and pleaded with my eyes and gestured with my hand for her to leave. Looking confused, she quietly backed out the door and closed it behind her. I couldn’t imagine why she had come to the jail and why she had looked so concerned for me. I thought she hated me and wanted me to hang. I remembered the last time I saw her…

Shortly after I was arrested, Cheryl had burst into the jail her eyes fixed on me with hatred; I had risen from my cot to greet her and stood waiting as she approached. Her face was so contorted with rage and her eyes so filled with hate I barely recognized her. She walked up to me and spat in my face. “I hate you for killing my father and I hope you hang.” She whirled and was gone.

I wiped my sleeve across my face. I was still feeling sick and groggy and her sudden appearance had brought a fleeting memory of something about that night back to my befuddled brain. Then as quickly as the memory rose to the surface, it disappeared with the shock of her brutal words. That was the last time I saw her until she stepped through the door of the sheriff’s office almost two days ago. She had left for Denver with her mother before my trial began. The concern I had seen in Cheryl’s eyes gave me hope that she had forgiven me. My memory of that fateful night was now as clear to me as if it had just happened…

It was my last night in Boulder and I had sat at a table in a far corner of the local saloon about to down my second drink. As I raised the glass to my lips, I saw Gabe Reynolds approaching me. His bald head shone with sweat and his puffy face was flushed with the look of pure hatred. His short fat legs churned as he waddled quickly to my table. Distracted by the look on the storekeeper’s face I downed my drink in one gulp and immediately regretted it. The drink had a strong bitter taste that was disturbingly familiar.

Too late, I realized my drink had been laced with a strong opiate and I began to feel its numbing affects almost immediately as the liquid burned down my throat. Within seconds my head felt heavy and the room began to spin when I attempted to stand; swaying on my feet I plopped back down in my chair and shook my head trying to clear it. I rubbed my eyes trying to bring the room back into focus and stop it from spinning.

Cheryl’s father grabbed my shirt collar, stuck his face close to mine and spoke in a low angry voice. “Harper, I warned you yesterday to stay away from my daughter. I won’t have the likes of you ruining her life. You’re a no-good drifter and saddle bum with a reputation as a fast draw and a troublemaker. What kinda life do you think you could offer my Cheryl?”

My mind was in a fog, my tongue was turning numb and my words were slow in coming. “Sir… we j-just… went… for a ride… ahh… in the c-country … n-nothing more.”

I wanted to say more but I couldn’t make my mouth work. My feet felt like they had an anvil tied to ‘em and I couldn’t move. Alarm bells were going off in my head and I sensed that the store keeper had more in mind than just a warning. I knew I had to get away from him, but the drug’s paralyzing affect kept me frozen in my chair. The room tilted and I gripped the edge of the table to keep from falling.

Reynolds tightened his grip on my shirt and shook me. My head flopped limply with each jerk of his hands and his voice echoed in my head − it was low and menacing. “She told me she’s in love with you and wants to go with you when you return to Laramie. That doesn’t sound like an innocent ride in the country to me.”

I tried to answer him but my tongue had gone numb. When I attempted to stand again my knees buckled under me and I slumped forward. Reynolds grabbed me around my waist before I hit the floor. I fought to stay conscious; fearing that my life depended on it.

He grabbed my arms and pinning them to my sides he began dragging me toward the back door of the saloon shouting, “Harper, I’m going to get you out of here before you make any more trouble. We’re decent law abiding folk and we don’t want drunken riffraff like you around here.”

In a low voice, he snarled in my ear, “Harper, you’re going to regret the day you met my daughter. I’m gonna pound that pretty face of yours into ground meat so’s she’ll never want to lay eyes on you again.

His threat sent a chill through me and I struggled harder to free myself from his grasp. “L-let… me… go… Reynolds.” He just tightened his grip and continued to half drag and half carry me toward the alley door.

When he released his hold on my right arm to open the door I saw my chance to get away from him. I gathered my waning strength as he pulled me out into the alley and gave him a hard shove breaking his hold on my left arm. I staggered back drawing my pistol and thumbed back the hammer as it cleared the holster. In my drug clouded mind, I knew I had to get away from him even if it meant shooting him. Blackness was closing in on me but I could still see the surprise and fear in his eyes as he drew his gun. Swaying on my feet I struggled to keep my gun pointed at him, but a hand reached out of the darkness and grabbed hold of the Colt. I stubbornly hung on until a paralyzing blow to my stomach made me let go. A heartbeat later, I heard the sound of gunshots and I lost my battle with consciousness as the ground came up and hit me in the face.

Everything was clear to me now. Problem was what good would it do me? It would’ve been nice if I had remembered what had happened during my trial. Only, I still had no proof I didn’t kill Reynolds. My cocked pistol had either accidentally discharged after it left my hand or the man who took it from me had deliberately shot Cheryl’s father. One thing was certain; he returned the pistol to my hand to frame me. Considering how sick I was when I woke up, I felt lucky to be alive. I had no doubt now my drink had been spiked with a large dose of some drug. I had heard a drug overdose could either kill a man or really mess with his brain; it certainly did something to mine. I wondered who that second man in the alley was and why he was there. At least I had a couple of weeks to try to find out. A fragile thread of hope began to take the place of the despair that had hung over me like a black cloud for the last week. Feeling as if a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders I surrendered to the pull of the drug and fell asleep.

CHAPTER 4

I became aware of someone sitting next to my bed. I could tell it wasn’t Slim because I smelled lilac water. I remembered that Cheryl wore lilac and wondered what she was doing here. I opened my eyes cautiously remembering the hate in her eyes the day I was arrested. Then I recalled her concern when she stepped into the sheriff’s office and saw me being examined by Doctor Owen. She was reading a book and didn’t notice that I was awake. My mouth was so dry I could barely manage to gasp her name. “Ch -Cheryl?”

She turned from her book and gazed down at me with a warm and radiant smile that lit up her delicate features. Her eyes softened and she reached out and placed her hand on my cheek. It felt warm and soft. “Jess, thank goodness you’re awake. I was afraid you wouldn’t come around before I had to go back to the store. I need to talk to you.” She leaned down, gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and sat up again. She was wearing the same green silk dress that she had worn the day I met her. It matched the color of her eyes. Her long blonde hair was a golden frame around her face.

Neither Slim nor Mort was present. “Where’s Slim and Sheriff Cory?” I croaked.

“I don’t know who Sheriff Cory is and I’ve never met your friend Slim. Sheriff Mason was the only person here when I arrived. He’s an old friend of the family and said I could sit with you until your friend came back.”

I couldn’t believe she had actually smiled at me. What could have changed hatred to the concern I had seen in her eyes? It must be an act. “Cheryl, after… everything that… has happened and what you said to me… Why would you want to see me now?” I swallowed trying to bring some moisture into my dry mouth. “I thought you wanted me to hang?”

“Poor Jess you must be thirsty. Drink this, you’ll feel better.” She helped me drink some water from a cup.

“As for your question… First of all, Jess Harper, I’m here because I was worried about you. Doc Owen said that you’d been badly injured; that you might die.” She sniffed, tears welled in her eyes. One escaped and ran down her cheek and she dabbed at it with a frilly hanky.

Wanting to believe her I smiled and tried to allay her fears. “Do I look like I’m dying? There’s nothing to worry about, I’ll be up and raising hell in no time.” At least I hoped so.

She sniffed and wiped at the tears that had begun streaming down her face. She tried to put on a brave face but I could tell she didn’t believe me. “You really scared me when you didn’t wake to my touch when I first arrived. You didn’t even stir when Doc Owen came and checked on you.”

She seemed sincere but I had to be sure and I looked at her skeptically. “But why did you come back to Boulder? Why the sudden change of heart?”

She smoothed her dress and looked down at her hands. She took a deep breath and gazed into my eyes. “Shortly after I arrived in Denver I learned that you may have been forced to kill my father in self-defense and I knew I had to come back and try to help you.”

I couldn’t believe I had heard her right. “How’d you come to that conclusion?” My heart raced wondering how she could possibly have known what had happened in that alley.

“Before I explain I need to tell you about my father…” She took a deep breath and took my hand in hers. “He was a very loving and doting but also very protective of me. No man was ever good enough for me. He discouraged any suitors and asked me not to see them again. He always assured me that it was for my own good and that some day the right man would come along. I loved my father and I trusted his judgment. Then I met you and you were so different from the rest that I refused to listen to him.”

No wonder he wanted to beat me to a pulp. In his eyes I was nothing but a driftin’ gunslinger. I guess he figured I couldn’t be run off as easily as the others and stubborn as I am he was probably right.

“But, why did you go against his judgment this time? Why was I any different from the others, Cheryl?” I studied her eyes searching for a sign she was telling the truth.

“You were different because I fell in love with you the day we met and took that ride. You were like a delighted little boy pointing out the different animals and their nests, the tracks of deer that we came across. I felt safe with you. I could sense an inner strength in you that wasn’t bolstered by the gun you wore. Your blue eyes sparkled when you talked of the new life you had found and about your friendship with Slim Sherman. I knew then that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. It was the most wonderful day of my life and I didn’t want it to end. I loved you all the more for blushing when I kissed your cheek in thanks when you took me home...”

My face started to burn and I shifted uncomfortably on the bed. I felt cornered and I wasn’t sure what to say to her.

“It was just a ride and a picnic, Cheryl, nothing else. I didn’t mean for you to make more out of it than that.” I ran my hand through my hair, nervously. “You father confronted me in the saloon before he was killed and said that you had told him you were going to Laramie with me whether he approved or not.”

Cheryl’s eyes widened with surprise. “You remember what happened that night?” It was self-defense wasn’t it?”

I grabbed her hand to quiet her. “Shhh-shhhh, not so loud. I don’t want anyone to know just yet. I’ll tell you all about it later. Answer me, why’d you tell your father you were going to Laramie. I never said I wanted you to.”

She glanced down at her hands; twisting her handkerchief. “When you brought me home from our ride, he was waiting for me on the front porch. When I reached the steps, he stepped from behind a column and confronted me. I’ve never seen him so angry. He called you all sort of bad things. He told me I was to never see you again and wanted me to promise him I wouldn’t.”

“I take it that you refused.”

She nodded. “He became furious. He said he wouldn’t allow me to see you anymore.” She smiled proudly. “I told him that he was wrong about you and that I intended to continue seeing you as often as I liked and he couldn’t stop me.”

“I’ll bet that didn’t go over too well with him.” I grinned; I could just see her standing straight and proudly as she defied him.

She blushed and lowered her eyes. “For a moment I thought he was going to hit me. He almost did when I told him that I loved you and intended to leave with you when you returned to Laramie.”

I gripped her wrist. “Why’d you tell him that? I never gave you any reason to believe that I loved you and wanted you to come to Laramie with me.”

Pulling her wrist out of my grasp she rubbed it absentmindedly. “I - I thought he’d leave us alone when I reminded him that I was twenty-one and there was nothing he could do to stop me.”

One more piece of the puzzle fell into place. Cheryl had innocently set the wheels turning that led to the fatal shooting that night. Determined to win her independence from her father she had stood up to him thinking he would back down.

She placed a trembling hand on my shoulder her eyes pleading for forgiveness. “Jess, are you mad at me? I feel I’m to blame for all the trouble you’re in. If only I had obeyed my father you wouldn’t be going to prison and he would still be alive.” She started sobbing uncontrollably.

Seeing her in so much distress my heart melted and I no longer doubted her. “There was no way you could have known, Cheryl. Please don’t blame yourself. I’m just as much to blame as you are.”

Sniffing she dabbed at her tears. ”Oh, Jess, how can you say that after all that’s happened to you?”

“It doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done.” I thought about what she had told me and frowned. “I still don’t understand why you returned. You left hating me and I figured I’d never see you again.”

The tears began to really pour and she hid her face in her kerchief. “I did hate you until ─ until Mother let it slip that she had heard Father talking to someone in the back of the house that afternoon before he died. She heard my Father say they were going to ‘beat your face to a pulp’. She told me in a fit of anger and blamed me for his death for disobeying him.”

Caressing my cheek she said, “That’s when I realized that you must have shot him in self defense. If only Mother had told the sheriff what she had heard, I’m sure you would have been acquitted.”

Everything made sense now. The other man in that room with Reynolds must’ve been the one that hit me and jerked the Colt out of my hand. In my excitement, I started to sit up. A searing pain in my gut made me forget the idea and I settled back on my bed with a groan. “Does she know who the other man was? It would help a lot if she could identify him.”

Tears were still streaming down Cheryl’s face and she wiped her eyes with her handkerchief again. “She said she didn’t see him or recognize his voice. Your trial was already over and I came back to Boulder hoping to keep you from going to prison.” She choked back a sob. “M-My m-mother refused to come with me. She wants you to hang.” She took a deep breath; her eyes mirrored the pain in her voice. “So, there you have it; I’m so sorry I doubted you.” She laid her head on my chest and started to cry again.

Cupping her chin in my hand; I lifted her face to meet my gaze, I brushed away her tears with my thumb. “It’s not your fault and there’s nothing for you to apologize for.”

I pulled her face close and kissed her cheek. “You’ve brought me wonderful news, but I’m afraid it won’t keep me out of prison. The jury more or less decided I had acted in self-defense anyway. Even with my memory back and your testimony, it changes nothing, except…” I looked deeply into her tear-filled eyes. “Cheryl, I didn’t shoot your father; someone else did. There was another man in that alley with your father and me that night; I figure he’s the man who agreed to help your father and in the struggle with me; shot him.”

“Oh, Jess, I knew you couldn’t have killed my father!” Her eyes brightening with joy Cheryl leaned over and gave me a big hug and kissed me on the cheek. She sat up and looked at me questioningly. “What happened in that alley Jess?”

I told her what I remembered. “I didn’t see the other man and don’t know if your father was killed accidentally or on purpose.” I knuckled my eyes. I was beginning to tire. “He obviously didn’t want it known he was in that alley so he framed me instead of turning me over to the sheriff. If he had I’d probably be waiting for a hangman’s noose now.”

“But I don’t understand why this information wouldn’t help you get a new trial.”

I reached out and squeezed her folded hands. “Without someone to back my story, I have no proof. No one would believe me now. Your father was the only other witness. Nothing’s changed except now I have my memory back.”

A frown marred her lovely face. “But, surely there’s something you remember that we could use… You’re innocent and don’t belong in prison.”

Wearily I shook my head. I damned the weakness that was creeping up on me. “No, it was too dark and I was barely conscious when he hit me. Have you told the sheriff or anyone else what you’ve just told me?”

She shook her head. “No… just Doctor Owen. I went to see him right after I left the jail on Thursday. I’ve been going crazy since then wanting to talk to you but Doc Owen said I had to wait ‘til today. He won’t say anything if I ask him not to.”

“Good, I don’t want to spook the killer. I need proof there was someone else in the alley and that I didn’t shoot your father. The only way to do that is to set a trap to flush the killer out.”

She looked at me questioningly. “But how, Jess? You’re locked in a cell and too badly injured.”

I smiled reassuringly at her. “I’ll announce that I’ve started to remember that there was a third man in the alley but his face is still just a fuzzy memory. He’ll want to shut me up before I can identify him and that’s when we’ll have him dead to rights.”

Alarm shadowed her face and she frowned. “It’s too dangerous. I won’t let you do it!” She gave me a look that defied argument.

I took her hand and pressed her palm to my lips. “Don’t worry; Mort and Slim will protect me. Promise me you won’t tell anyone what we’ve talked about.”

Still frowning, she sighed and slumped in resignation. “I promise.” She thought a moment and her face brightened, her eyes twinkling with happiness. “Oh, Jess, I knew I was right about your innocence. I’m so-o-o happy!”

She leaned over and cupping my face between her hands she planted a passionate and lingering kiss on my lips. Grabbing handfuls of her long golden hair in both hands, I returned it just as passionately.

She pulled her face away from my hands and sat up. Looking flustered she began to speak rapidly. “Well, Jess, I best go. Hope you feel better. I’ll be back after dinner and bring you some pie.” She stood up to leave, kissed her fingertips and touched them to my lips. “I’ll be back soon.”

The heat of our kiss still lingered bringing back the memory of the moment when our lips had touched; I could still feel her passion and my spirits lifted at the thought of seeing her again. I smiled as I realized that my future was finally looking a lot brighter. If all went well and my plan worked I would soon be a free man. I just had to convince Slim and Mort to help me carry it out.

CHAPTER 5

Cheryl Reynolds left the jail, her lips still tingling with the passion of Jess’ kiss. She didn’t know what had come over her to be so forward. Nevertheless, he didn’t seem to mind and his kiss was all that she had dreamed it would be. She had been unsure he would even want to see her. Poor Jess, he looked so bewildered standing behind those bars that day I said those awful things to him. I’m so glad he’s forgiven me. Thank goodness I went to Denver and found out the truth about my father. If I hadn’t I would still be filled with hate for Jess; instead I think I love him more than ever.

She crossed the street to the family mercantile. She had promised Nathan, their clerk, that she would watch the store while he ran some errands. He had been running the business by himself since she and her mother had left for Denver. He was watching her through the window as she approached.

Nathan smiled broadly when she entered. He put on his jacket as he walked toward her. She felt a little guilty for making him wait so long.

“Hello, Cheryl, is it okay if I leave now and would you mind closing up by yourself − my errands may take a while.”

“Of course not, Nathan, you’ve been such a big help since Father died, I don’t mind at all.” She stepped around him and he left.

There were no customers in the store, so out of habit she began straightening and rearranging the merchandise on the shelves and counters. Since she was a little girl, her father had given her the job of tidying the store and he always expressed his pride in the job she did. She spent the rest of the afternoon tending to customers and anxiously wishing time would pass so she could get back to Jess. The ding of the shop’s door bell caught her attention and she glanced up to see Nathan enter.

“Hello, have you finished your errands already, Nathan?”

He flashed a broad smile, “Yes, sooner than expected. I was hoping after we close up we could have dinner together at Mary’s Café.”

Cheryl hesitated before answering. An invitation to dinner was the last thing she’d expected from him. In the three years he’d worked for her father, he never once asked her out. She always thought of him only as a friend. He was about five years older than she; nice looking − his face round − a widow’s peak of auburn hair dipped down into his broad forehead and his eyes were large and brown. He was dressed in a dark brown suit and tie. He was a sharp contrast to Jess’ handsome, strong, angular and brooding features − dark wavy hair, striking dark fringed blue eyes, and rough ranch garb.

“Cheryl, did you hear me?” He asked impatiently.

She glanced at him and blushed then pulled her eyes away. She thought about the pie she had promised Jess and realized it was too late to make one herself.

Nathan put his hands on her shoulders and gazed at her questioningly. “Will you have dinner with me tonight?”

Backing out of his grasp she stepped around him pretending to straighten a can on a shelf. She didn’t dare look at him for fear he would see through her ruse. “I’m sorry Nathan. Thank you, but I have other plans this evening. I promised Mr. Casey, the baker, I’d deliver an apple pie to old Mr. Wilson. I was planning to pick it up as soon as we closed.”

Nathan was insistent. “Then, let me walk you home, it’s getting late and it’ll be dark soon.”

Cheryl had to think of something to keep him from going with her. She turned around and smiled. “No, that’s not necessary, Nathan, I plan to read to Mr. Wilson for a while. You know he’s almost blind - the poor man has to depend on others to read to him. If you’d like to join us you may…” She held her breath waiting for his answer.

Nathan’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “I guess I’ll pass – maybe some other time. Will you be coming in to help with the store tomorrow?”

She managed a small smile trying to hide her impatience. “No, I have an appointment with our lawyer to go over father’s will and tend to other family affairs. There’s still a lot to do. Can you manage without me for just a few days more?” She was alarmed at the ease with which she lied to him. She wasn’t sure why she didn’t want him to know she planned to spend the day with Jess.

He grasped her hands and moved closer, gazing down at her. His voice low and husky he said, “I’ll be glad to mind the store.” He squeezed her hands gently. “You know Cheryl; if you ever need anything I’m here for you.” He pulled her to him and kissed her.

Startled, she pushed herself out of his embrace. But Nathan held on to her hands. “Nathan, what are you doing? What’s gotten into you?”

He let go and she backed away from him. Confusion wrinkling his brow he said, “Surely you know how I feel about you? I had hoped you felt the same way.” His shoulders slumped dejectedly. “Obviously, I was wrong and I apologize.” Embarrassed he looked away for a moment.

“Whatever made you think such a thing?” She asked taking another step backward. “Why haven’t you told me before?”

He shrugged. “I thought your father would object and I’d lose my job. After what happened to Harper, I guess it’s a good thing I kept my feelings to myself.”

Her eyes widened with shock her stomach churning. She quickly regained her composure and softly asked. “What do you mean? What about Jess and my father?”

He swallowed hard. “I heard… uh… rumors, is all. Looks like they weren’t rumors after all − your friend Harper found out…” He stopped in mid-sentence, catching himself before he said more.

Her heart skipped a beat. She wondered what he meant about the rumors and what he was about to say. She was sure he knew what her father had tried to do to Jess but, she didn’t dare try to pry it out of him. “We’ll talk more about this later. I really must leave now; the bakery will be closing soon. Would you mind locking up?”

He nodded and Cheryl rushed down the street toward the bakery.

CHAPTER 6

After Cheryl left I couldn’t stop thinking about her visit. I was left with a ray of hope and a lot of unanswered questions. I smiled when I thought of our kiss. The creak of a cell door opening broke my train of thought and I looked up as Slim entered carrying a tray.

“Time to eat, Pard.” He sat the tray next to me and settled on the stool. He knocked back his hat with his thumb and grinned. “What’s with the big smile? You looked like the cat that ate the canary. Care to fill me in?”

I grinned sheepishly. “Huh? Oh, s’nothing. Ain’t got nothing else to do but lie here and think, the sheriff there isn’t much on conversation.” I pointed my chin at Mason who had covered me with his pistol while he let Slim into the cell.

“Still think I’m gonna try to escape, Sheriff?” Scowling Mason locked the door and returned to his chair behind the desk.

Slim cocked an eyebrow in my direction. “You’re sure full of it this afternoon ─ something happen while I was gone?”

I wanted to tell him everything but needed to have it all straight in my head first, so I changed the subject. “Are ya gonna feed me that broth or did you just bring it for me to look at?”

“Sure, but you’d better answer me afterwards, Pard.” He said grinning sheepishly. He plumped up the pillows under my head and helped me drink the broth. While I drank my “dinner” I mulled over what I had learned during Cheryl’s visit and was finally able to sort the jumble of memories until they made sense.

When I finished he looked at me frowning. “Wasn’t that Cheryl Reynolds, the dead man’s daughter I saw leaving here before I arrived? I heard she hated you but the way you were smiling when I walked in I guess she doesn’t any more. How come?”

Trying to get comfortable I shifted in the bed a little and grunted with the effort when a twinge of pain stabbed through my belly. “There’s a lot to tell and I’m not sure where to start.”

“I’ve got all the time in the world so how about starting at the beginning.” Slim sounded annoyed.

“First of all, she doesn’t hate me anymore.” I waited for his reaction before I continued.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

“Ask Cheryl, she can explain it better than me. As for the rest…” I paused and took a deep breath. “Slim, I finally remember what happened in that alley.”

His eyes got as big as saucers. “Well, I’ll be damned…”

“The best part is… I didn’t shoot Gabe Reynolds.”

He gripped my shoulder. “Hey, that’s good news, no, it’s great news! So, what happened in that alley? If you didn’t shoot him, who did? Everyone said you were so drunk it was no wonder you couldn’t remember anything.”

I held a finger to my lips. “Ease up Slim not so fast and keep your voice down. I don’t want the sheriff to hear.” I told him everything.

He listened in silence and rubbed his chin with his knuckle. “The doped whiskey would certainly explain why you acted like you were falling down drunk. I was right then; there was something fishy about you getting so drunk you couldn’t remember anything.”

“Yeah, I wonder who put the stuff in my drink. It was enough to knock me out for the night and left me sick for hours afterwards − not to mention wiping my memory of what had happened.” I paused as another piece of the puzzle fell into place. “Slim, the saloon girl – she might know who the killer is.”

Slim raised an eyebrow. “How would she know, she wasn’t in the alley when the shooting happened. Or was she?”

It was all I could do to lie still - I was itching to climb off my cot and look for that girl and shake the truth out of her. “Because she served me the doped whiskey and lied about how many drinks I had. She didn’t know me and had no reason to drug me unless she was paid to do it. I hope it was the killer and not Reynolds. We’d be back to square one then.”

“It makes sense. At least now we have something to start with. I think I’ll go have a talk with that gal later.” He studied my face. “I’m curious. What brought your memory back so sudden?”

“Take it easy, Slim. Be patient a little longer and let me finish. You don’t think I’m making it up, do ya?”

He leaned back against the cell bars and smiled wryly. “I guess there’s not much point, is there.”

I explained how my memory returned and filled him in on what I had learned from Cheryl. “Well that’s it. I figure my only chance to stay out of prison is to flush out the killer and I’m gonna need your help. Not much I can do stuck in here.

A huge smile spread across his face. “Well, your luck certainly has taken a turn for the better. Of course I’ll do what ever it takes to find the killer. You should tell the judge and the sheriff what you just told me and with Cheryl’s testimony, maybe you could get a new trial.”

I glared at him; exasperated that he hadn’t recognized the folly of his statement. “What good would that do me? I still don’t have a lick of proof that I didn’t pull the trigger. The killer ain’t talking and Reynolds can’t.”

Slim lifted his hat and ran a hand through his hair sweeping back a stray lock of blonde hair that had dipped into his eyes. His shoulders slumped in resignation. “Sorry, bad idea. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Damn right it was…” I cupped my hand to my mouth to stifle a yawn; my eyelids were getting heavy. I gazed at him intently. “So… I figger the best way to catch him is to use me as bait.”

Glaring at me he said, “You’re in no shape to be bait for a varmint much less a killer. Anyway, it wouldn’t work while you’re locked up and I’m not about to break you out. Even if I wanted to, moving you could kill ya.”

“At least I’d die free; if I didn’t… being on the lam would be better’n rottin’ in that prison…” Slim’s eyes turned cold and his jaw tensed. Not wanting to rile him more I decided to change the subject. “When’s Mort coming back?”

Rubbing the stubble on his chin with his thumb he replied, “This evening, I think. Do you want me to tell him everything, or will you?”

I was tiring and my stomach was beginning to ache. I folded my hands over my gut and pressed against the growing pain. “You can tell him.”

Nodding Slim said, “Okay, I’ll tell Mort and I’ll talk to Cheryl. Between the four of us, we should be able to come up with some way to trap the killer.”

I tried to shift my weight to ease the growing ache in my gut and was hit with a knife sharp pain; I sucked air to keep from moaning out loud. “I…I won’t be able to do much planning. All this talk has plumb wore me out; I can barely keep my eyes open.” Closing my eyes I faked a big yawn hoping he hadn’t noticed how uncomfortable I was.

Slim cleared his throat. “Uh, uh, Jess, you’re not fooling me. Open your eyes.”

“Huh?” I looked up at him and saw him holding out a spoon filled with a brown liquid.

“Any chance you might let me skip a dose this time?”

“Nope.” He replied grimly.

He lowered the spoon and reluctantly opened I my mouth. I swallowed the stuff and shuddered. “Some day I’m going to make you pay for this, Slim Sherman.” I swiped my hand across my mouth and closed my eyes.

He chuckled. “Pard, I’m hoping you pull through this so you’ll have that chance. Now, get some rest.”

The ache in my vittles subsided as the drug began to work. Then I remembered Cheryl would be returning later that afternoon and asked him to tell her not to come.

“Sure... Go to sleep, Pard.” Sheriff Mason let him out and he lingered outside looking down at me. Compassion filled his eyes and I thought I saw him shake his head ever so slightly.

I closed my eyes and let the drug take hold. The pain below my ribs began to subside and I drifted off to sleep.

*********

GUILTY

CHAPTER 7

Slim Sherman stood outside his injured friend’s cell and watched as he slowly succumbed to the drug. The younger man had lost weight and his usually tanned face was pale and drawn. Slim hated to see Jess in that condition and worried about giving him so much Laudanum. Getting the sheriff’s assurance he’d watch over Jess Harper; Slim left and headed for the Reynold’s family store to find Cheryl Reynolds. He spied her as she emerged from the store and set out across the street to intercept her. The afternoon sun was just beginning to fall behind the Flatiron Mountains that lay due west of Boulder.

*****

Cheryl rushed toward the bakery. In her hurry, she didn’t notice the tall hard muscled young cowboy that had stepped into her path and she ran right into him. “Ooof!” She felt like she had run into a wall and tumbled backwards from the impact. Long strong arms wrapped around her waist and caught and pulled her to his chest before she fell. The stranger gently held her up against him until she regained her balance then held her at arms length.

“Whoa there, Miss Reynolds, I’m sorry, I thought you saw me comin’. Are you all right?” the stranger asked smiling down at her. Cheryl nodded, noticing his charming smile. He released her and stepped back.

She gazed up at into his intense blue eyes. He was handsome and tanned his jaw strong and broad. His smile was warm and genuine and she found herself liking him immediately.

“I’m so sorry. I was rushing to the bakery before it closed and you’re right, I didn’t see you. Do I know you?”

The man removed his hat with a flourish to reveal a full head of light blonde hair combed straight back except for one errant lock that fell across his forehead when he removed his hat. “I’m Slim Sherman – Jess Harper’s friend. He asked me to give you a message − is there somewhere we can talk privately?”

Cheryl became agitated. She wanted to get to the bakery and Jess’ friend was in her way.

“Mr. Sherman, I’m going to see Jess as soon as I leave the bakery. He can tell me himself when I see him.” She tried to step around him but he blocked her way.

The corners of his eyes crinkled with his smile. “Jess asked me to tell you not to come by. He sends his apologies.”

“But, I don’t understand, why would he change his mind? He kis…” Her hand leaped to cover her mouth. It’s none of his business.

“I assure you he was looking forward to your return. Is there someplace private where we can talk? It’s very important and I promise I’ll explain everything.” He bent his arm and held out his elbow for her.

She hesitated. I suppose he’s all right. Jess had nothing but praise for him. She took his arm. “We can go to my house; it’s just around the corner. No one will disturb us there.”

He escorted her home and followed her into the parlor. It was a large house, tastefully decorated with an obvious woman’s touch. There was a settee and two occasional chairs with a table separating them. A fireplace was sandwiched between two beautiful landscapes gracing the back wall. Heavy tapestry drapes suspended from brass rods graced a row of windows across the front of the house.

She pointed to the sofa. “Please sit down, Mr. Sherman. I’m anxious to know why you’re being so secretive. Is Jess all right?” She sat in the chair across from him.

Removing his hat he sat down and held it while resting his arms on his knees. “Jess is doing fine. It’s just that he just fell asleep and will be sleeping for quite some time.”

“But why is he sleeping so much?” The concern in her voice began to build as she spoke.

Slim Sherman spun his hat in his hand and shifted his weight on the couch. He tugged at his red bandana as if it were choking him. “Jess is fine. I just gave him another dose of Laudanum before I left and he went out like a snuffed candle.”

Cheryl pouted and said, “Oh… I see. I didn’t realize he was still being sedated. What did you want to talk about?”

“I need your help to devise a way to trick your father’s killer into revealing his identity.”

Leaning back, He placed his hat beside him and laid his arms across the back of the sofa. “My guess is the shooting was accidental. The man panicked and made it look like Jess did it. Unless he wanted to kill your father and saw his chance. Did your father have any enemies?”

She shook her head and frowned. “No, not that I know of… He always let our less fortunate customers keep a running bill when they couldn’t pay. Father was well thought of in the community.”

Pulling at his jaw he said. “Do you have any idea who the man that agreed to help your father might be?”

“I don’t know, I can’t think of anyone… No, wait.” Her eyes widened. “Nathan. That’s it! It has to be Nathan. I just know it is.”

Slim leaned forward. “Who’s Nathan?”

Excitement rose in Cheryl’s voice. “Nathan Green is a clerk and our bookkeeper. He let it slip today that he knew my father wanted to hurt Jess. He must’ve been the other man in the alley. How else would he have known?”

“Now we just have to prove that it was Green.” He told her of his intention to confront the saloon girl. He emphasized that even if he could get a name they would still have no proof that Jess didn’t pull the trigger.

We’ll need Doctor Owen’s help to lay a trap.”

“He’s my godfather and I think he’ll help once he hears Jess’ story.” Cheryl grew excited and fidgeted in her chair. “So, tell me, what do you have in mind?”

Slim mapped out his plan to her. Finishing he looked at her with anticipation. “What do you think?”

She frowned, “It’s awfully risky and I’m sure Doctor Owen will balk at the idea but I think I can convince him that Jess will be safe.”

The tall rancher stood and clamped his hat on his head and held helped Cheryl to her feet. Grinning broadly he said. “Let’s pay a visit to the good doctor, then.”

CHAPTER 8

“Mr. Harper? Can you hear me? It’s Doctor Owen; I need you to wake up so I can examine you.”

The voice was as insistent as the hand that was shaking my shoulder. I thought I heard him say he was the doctor. It was too much effort to open my eyes and I started to drift back to sleep. The pestering hand started patting me on the cheek. I still couldn’t get my eyes open and tried to brush the hand away. The voice kept demanding that I wake up. I felt a hand under my head and the rim of a cup pressed to my lips.

“Here, Mr. Harper, drink this, it’ll help clear your head.” I turned my head away, suspicious of its contents. “It’s just water, drink it, please.”

The water tasted good, soothing my parched throat. I felt very hot and my clothes were damp, my skin clammy. I felt a heavy weight covering me.

“That’s better… can you open your eyes for me?” The hand lowered my head back on the pillow.

I blinked up at him. His face was nothing but a blur so I ran my sleeve across my eyes to clear them and Doctor Owen’s concerned face swam into focus.

“W-what time is it? H- How long have I been asleep?” Time had become precious to me. I suspected Slim had slipped me another dose of painkiller sometime during the night. Why else would I be feeling so groggy?

“It’s a little after 7:00 a.m., what does it matter?” He reached into his black bag and pulled out a stethoscope.

It dawned on me that it was a little early for him to be checking on me. I glanced past his shoulder and saw Slim standing just outside the cell with a worried look on his face. Something isn’t right. The doctor said that Slim should get him if I developed a fever or the pain became worse. I wasn’t in a lot of pain, so… I didn’t want to think about what his early visit meant.

Doc Owen clamped the earpieces of the stethoscope to his ears and pulling back the covers he began his examination. He felt my forehead, pulling his hand away he looked at the moisture on his fingers. His brow wrinkled into a frown while he pulled the covers up to my chin and put away his stethoscope.

“Well, Doc, what’s the verdict? Am I going to live?” The frown he wore had me worried. Looking past the doc, I saw Sheriff Mason standing next to Slim. The sheriff didn’t look too happy and Slim looked pretty grim.

“What’s wrong with me?” I reached for his arm to get him to face me. I couldn’t get the idea out of my mind that I might be dying.

Sighing he answered, “I’m afraid you’ve developed a high fever from an infection in your abdomen. I may have to operate.”

He had sidestepped my question about whether or not I was going to live very smoothly. It didn’t remove the uneasy feeling that was building in my chest. I didn’t like the idea of an operation at all.

Doctor Owen turned to the sheriff. “I need to move this man to my hospital right now. We can use the cot as a litter.” He didn’t wait for permission from Sheriff Mason. He reached through the bars and lifted a pillow from the bed in the adjoining cell and laid it on my stomach. “Keep this pressed to your stomach while we move you. Hopefully it will protect you from further injury.” Slim stepped to the head of the bunk ready to help carry me out.

Sheriff Mason looked like he was about to protest until he saw the look of determination on the doctor’s face. He shrugged his shoulders in defeat. “Okay, Doc, I’ll go along with it. But, I’m not letting him out of my sight for one minute.” The sheriff hesitated just as he was about to pick up his end of the cot… “Just a minute there’s something I need to do.”

Now what’s he up to? I was feeling hot and miserable and hadn’t paid much attention to what was going on until I saw the sheriff head for his desk… I watched in dismay as he reached in a drawer and pulled out a pair of leg shackles separated by a long chain. Without another word, he returned to the foot of the bed, lifted the blankets and chained my right ankle to a rung the railing of the foot board.

I frowned at him. Slim didn’t say a word. What can you expect Harper? Slim’s too damned law abiding. I recalled another time when my partner had suggested a sheriff chain me to a tree.

Doctor Owen was indignant and protested. “Tom, those chains aren’t necessary, my patient is too sick to escape.”

Mason just grunted and stepped to the head of my cot. “Sherman, are you ready to carry him out?”

Before they picked me up Doc Owen insisted on giving me another dose of Laudanum. I made a face and swallowed it shuddering at its vile taste. Slim and Sheriff Mason carried to the doc’s office. The drug slowly began to take the edge off a bumpy ride and the pillow helped dull the jarring to my stomach.

They carried me into the hospital and into the treatment room. Its back wall was lined with cabinets full of medicines, medical equipment and books. Up against the left wall were three white metal frame beds with vertical rails at the head and foot that looked like one I once occupied in an army hospital during the war. Windows lined the opposite wall. In the middle of the room was a tall leather padded narrow table with several lamps hanging over it. I assumed it was an operating table. A roll top desk stood by the door.

“You can put him there.” The doctor indicated the first bed. “Be careful when you lift him on to it.”

Mason removed the shackle from the cot and Slim helped him lay me in the bed. The cautious sheriff immediately closed the shackle around one of the bed’s metal rungs.

Doctor Owen began taking bottles of alcohol out of a cabinet. He motioned in the direction of the door. “Okay, both of you, out of here. I need room to work.” When Mason hesitated Doc said, “You really don’t think he’s going anywhere chained like he is, do you?”

Sheriff Mason sighed in resignation and he motioned for Slim to help him remove the empty cot from the room. Both men returned immediately and stood watchfully in the doorway.

Feeling drowsy, I closed my eyes intending to go to sleep but I was jarred awake when I felt the blankets being pulled off me. An elderly woman had joined the doctor and began to help him cut off my two piece Long Johns. Slim had cut away my outer clothing in the same manner soon after the doc’s first visit.

I grabbed the woman’s hands to stop her. “Hey, do ya have to cut off my only clothes?” I felt my face began to burn.

Dr. Owen paused in his cutting and handed the woman a blanket. “It’s the only way to get you out of those damp clothes without injuring you further.”

She smiled, took the blanket out of his hand and held it up turning her head away while the doctor worked. When he finished cutting away my underwear he began to rub the cool liquid over the length of my body. While he worked, I could feel my face begin to burn from embarrassment. Finally he put down the bottle and relieved Mrs. Owen of the blanket and laid it over me. He examined me with his stethoscope and put it away.

“Good, the treatment worked and I won’t have to operate after all.” Doc had a rather smug and broad smile on his face. He turned to his wife. “Mary, would you mind fetching our patient a glass of water?”

Scowling I tugged the blanket to my chin “Is that all you’re gonna do?” I was very confused. “What’s going on Doc?”

He glanced over his shoulder toward the doorway and saw that Sheriff Mason had stepped into the hospital lobby and was speaking to his new deputy. Looking pleased with himself he spoke in a low voice. “Your friend Mr. Sherman wanted to move you to my office and making it appear that you had a high fever seemed like the best way to get the sheriff to agree.”

I couldn’t believe they let me think I was dying. “You mean I didn’t really have a fever?”

Doctor Owen took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes with a handkerchief. “No, early this morning your friend convinced Sheriff Mason that you were having cold chills and asked for extra blankets. After about a half hour under all those blankets your temperature rose a bit and naturally you began to sweat, so then he had the sheriff send for me.”

“But, why, you barely know me?” I was feeling very sleepy. Damn that Laudanum, it just won’t let go.

“Because, I asked him to...” Cheryl Reynolds entered through a door at the back of the room. I jumped when I heard her voice and held the blanket tighter to my chin. My face was burning. She sat on the edge of my bed; her smile was radiant. “And…” She leaned over and kissed me lightly on the lips. “Doc Owen agreed.”

“Help you do what?” My eyelids felt heavy; I could barely keep them open… The drug was making it hard for me to concentrate. When am I ever going to get through a whole day without falling asleep in the middle of things?

She saw me struggling to keep my eyes open so she leaned over and kissed each eyelid. “Go to sleep now and when you wake we’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

It wasn’t hard to obey her request. I could still feel her gentle kisses. Relaxing, I let the Laudanum do its work.

GUILTY

CHAPTER 9

Cheryl stood up smiling tenderly down at Jess. He had looked so perplexed when she kissed him only lightly on the lips. She was too shy to show more than a little affection for him in front of Doc Owen. What she really wanted to do was to hold his face in her hands kiss him as she had the day before.

Leaning over him she gently brushed back the dark curls of unruly hair that was ever present on his brow. She loved the rakish look it gave him. He looked so peaceful lying there; belying the violent life he had once led and had been submerged into once again. She knew very little about his past except for the few bits and pieces she was able to pull from him in the short period of time they had spent together. The new life he had found at the Sherman Ranch was in danger of being ripped from him forever if she couldn’t find a way to help clear him. Cheryl feared that her newfound love was doomed before they could see it to its fruition. She loved him with all her heart and she was sure that he loved her too.

Assuring herself that he was sleeping comfortably she covered his shoulders with the blanket. It had slipped down when he lost his grip on them as he fell asleep. The memory of him clutching it to his neck and blushing when she entered the room made her smile. Seeing that Doc Owen was sitting at his desk with his back to her; she placed her chair beside him and sat down. When he turned his attention to her she pouted, “How much longer do you plan to keep Jess sedated? It would be nice if he could stay awake long enough for us to talk.”

The doctor took off his eyeglasses and rubbed his eyes. “Cheryl honey, he’s so weak from blood loss that he would still sleep a lot even without the drug.”

She slumped in her chair and dropped her head in resignation. “It’s just so danged frustrating when he falls asleep in the middle of our conversations.”

Crossing his arms the doctor smiled wanly. “Your young man is doing much better than I expected. If he doesn’t show any ill effects from the move here I’ll reduce his dose.”

Her face brightening she shifted in her chair and rearranged her skirt. “I’m so glad Jess is safe in your care now. I just know he’s going to get better a lot faster.”

Her enthusiasm brought a smile to his face. Then he leaned back in his chair and shook his head sadly the smile fading from his lips. “It’ll be his strength and will to live that will pull him through. All we can do now is wait and try to keep him comfortable. If he takes a turn for the worse then it’ll take all my medical skills to save him.”

She glanced wistfully over at the man she had grown to love more than life its self. “You can count on me to do whatever it takes to help him.”

He patted her arm. “I know you will, dear, but you’ll have to rest too so we’ll need Mr. Sherman and Sheriff Cory’s help. We will all take turns watching over him.”

Looking at his pocket watch, he stood and removed his waistcoat from the peg on the wall behind her. “I have to leave now to check on Mrs. Patterson. She’s due to deliver soon.” He looked questioningly at her with a broad grin. “I’ll be gone a couple of hours. I assume you’d like to stay with Jess while I’m gone?”

She smiled eagerly. “Of course I do. Take as long as you’d like. Is there anything I can do for him while you’re gone?”

“Wake him in about half an hour and offer him some water. Mind you, don’t try to keep him awake if he’s still sleepy.” He cautioned wagging a finger at her.

The doctor left and Cheryl returned the chair to Jess’ bedside. She wished she could talk to him, but she was content to just sit and watch the gentle rise and fall of his chest. She studied every line and curve of his face, resisting the urge to run her fingers along his strong angular jaw. His brow was relaxed now, but when he spoke of something that he was impassioned about, the middle ends of his eyebrows would rise like butterfly wings. His deep rich voice thrilled her when he spoke. She marveled at how much expression he could convey with just the raise of an eyebrow or the twist of his lips that could broaden into the sincerest of smiles. She longed to gaze into his blue eyes again; they were the path to his soul and spoke more to her than any words. He seemed to be totally unaware of how handsome he is. She wondered how many girls had turned their heads and watched him as he walked by with his easy stride. She doubted that he ever noticed.

She passed the rest of the morning dividing her time between reading the doctor’s medical books and waking the injured man to give him water. Each time she woke him she had hoped he would stay awake but he fell asleep before his head had hit the pillow.

*********************************

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