CHAPTER EIGHT

For two hours she peeked through the curtains. She had watched him picket his horse away from the burned barn, and he had watered the burning ashes, and even as a precaution had watered the house. Then he had sat on the porch, and for the last hour he had not moved from that spot.

She knew he must be exhausted for she felt the strength had drained out of her. She longed for sleep but felt compelled to watch him, wondering when he would rest. She pulled the blanket closer around her. The winds were cold and turning colder but he didn’t seem to mind. She knew she should go to bed and just forget him, but she couldn’t. He had risked his life to save hers and in doing so had revealed something of himself that he hoped not to reveal. She couldn’t stop thinking about what he had told her about his past. Despite what he thought, she had a conscience and right now it was weighing heavily on her.

Jess felt the cold but still he had no desire to leave the porch. There had been so many memories tonight. Memories he had hidden from the world and from himself. Memories that still haunted him. Memories he had kept at bay...until tonight.

“What do you want?”

Though his voice was soft, the question startled Laura.

“How did you know, I was standing here?” She had quietly opened the door and stood in the entrance of the house.

“Vanilla. I smelled vanilla.”

Unconsciously her finger wiped behind her ear. “I ran out of perfume so I used...”

“Vanilla,” he finished. “My ma used to wear it. I like the smell on a woman.”

Laura moved from the doorframe to Jess. The coffee cup, that she held, felt hot to her hands as she handed Jess the cup of steaming coffee. The cold air made the steam more visible. She sat down next to him and waited, but he didn’t speak. Several times she glanced at him, but he said nothing. He just sat there in deep thought. Finally she asked, “What about the bodies?”

“I’ll take them to the sheriff tomorrow morning.”

“Shouldn’t we cover them?”

He shook his head. “Why waste the energy on varmint? I don’t mind if the buzzards get them.” He finally looked at her. “You got any idea who might sell us some horses?”

She nodded. “A rancher east of town has some. Name of Jackson. He’s not afraid of Jack Phillips, but he doesn’t have many to sell.”

“As long as we can get enough for tomorrow’s run. Then we’ll try to find someone else to sell us some more. Got to be others who aren’t afraid of Jackson.”

“I don’t know. With all the men he’s hired lately. It’s no secret in town that the men he hired are gun hands like you.”

Jess uttered a soft snicker, and then took a long sip of coffee. He knew inside would be warmer, but somehow he needed to gaze up at the stars.

“Mister Harper...”

“Jess,” he mumbled, and then took another sip. “You said you’d call me, Jess.”

“Are you all right?”

Again he glanced; but this time with confusion. “Me?”

“I know it wasn’t easy telling me about what happen to you and your folks.”

“Oh that.” He shrugged as if it wasn’t important.

But she knew different for his hands slightly shook. “Where’d it happen?”

“Texas. The panhandle. That’s where I’m from.”

“Did they ever catch who did it?”

“Nope. I tried myself but I was too young when it happen.”

“How old?”

He glanced again at her. “You sure are interested. Maybe you’re thinking of having me write about this in a letter that you penned.”

Her chin rose up. “You wanted to know about me. Well I would like to know who I’m partnering with too.”

A slow grin spread across his tan face. But it showed no merriment. It was a smile to mock her. “So now we’re partners, are we?”

“Just until we stop Jack Phillips. Then we’ll be strangers, never to set eyes on each other again.”

“You got that right, Lady! I can’t wait to be done with you.”

Her chin rose even higher. “I feel the same way. So at least we agree about that. So how old were you when your folks died?”

“You’re like a dog with a bone. You don’t give up,” he said with chuckle.

“How old?” The determination in her voice showed she was a fighter.

“If you have to know…fifteen.”

“That was so young,” she said with sympathy. “You were still a boy.”

“I grew up quick and I survived,” Jess replied, his voice hard sounding.

“You know I never pictured you having a family.”

“Why not?” he asked with surprise.

“The way Mister Mose described you.”

“Wait ‘til I see Mose.” Jess’ eyes narrowed with anger.

“Oh he likes you. Thinks very highly of you, but I guess when I think of a gunslinger...”

“Laura, I may have sold my gun, more times than I’d like to admit, but I ain’t a gunslinger.”

“You ever face a man in the street?”

He nodded.

“You ever get paid to use your gun?”

His eyes dropped from her face. With a soft thump, he set the coffee cup down on the porch, beside him and rested his arms on his knees. His head was bent as if he could offer no more argument. He looked defeated.

She sighed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have criticized.”

He laughed, but the sound was bitter not happy. “Oh you ain’t the only one. My two sisters Francie complained the day I started practicing fast drawing a gun. My older sister ‘bout had a fit.”

Her eyebrows raised with wonder. “Your two sisters Francie? Now you’re joshing me.”

“No, it’s true! I’ve got two sisters, both named Francie.” He laughed loudly.

It was the first time she had seen him laugh with true merriment. Why he looked downright pleasant, even approachable. “Now why would your folks name both your sisters Francie? Must have got awful confusing at your house.”

Again Jess laughed, causing her to smile. As he chuckled, he explained, “My pa always claimed that my ma was the prettiest gal in Texas and that’s why he married her. Said none was prettier than his Francie. That was my Ma’s name. Francie Gayle Harper. When my oldest sister came along, my pa insisted that she be named after my ma because he said that baby was the prettiest girl baby in the whole state of Texas, and she did favor my ma. Had her blue eyes.”

“So do you,” she observed.

Jess’ long lashes hid his eyes for a second, then he looked back at her as he continued, “Well a few years passed with my ma having a passel of boys. Then finally she had another baby girl, and my pa said, Francie, we’re going to name this one too after you ‘cause she’s just as pretty as the first baby gal we had. Well I’m here to tell you that my ma pitched a fit. I ain’t never seen her so disagreeable to an idea, but there was no arguing with my pa. He told my ma that she could pick any middle name she wanted for the baby and that we’d all call her by her middle name but my pa insisted that her first name had to be Francie. So my ma christened my baby sister Francie Dell Harper, thinking she’d be called Dell after pa’s grandma. But what my ma wasn’t figuring on was us boys. She always said we had pa’s playfulness.”

Laura’s eyes opened wide. Jess, playful? She wondered what he had been like as a young boy before his parents were killed. Try as she might, she couldn’t picture him young and carefree.

Jess continued, “We boys would say to my older sister, ‘Old Francie, Young Francie needs to see you’. Oh you should have seen my older sister’s face. You think I got a temper! But me and my brothers just kept up the teasing until both my sisters got called Francie by everyone, even my ma.” Jess’ smile faded. “After we got burned out, I just kept calling them Francie, like I had done all my life, but somehow we never joked about it any more. I guess then nothing seem too funny.”

“It still haunts you doesn’t it?”

For a moment he hid nothing from her. “All have to do is look down at my hands, and I remember.” He pulled off his gloves. “These marks...” He pointed at several scars. “...it was from helping my youngest sister escape the fire. Oh I know how ugly these scars look to a gal, and I guess I ain’t much to offer anyway to anyone.”

She took hold of his hand. Her fingers traced the scars. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“But you did!” he countered as he pulled his hand away from her touch. He slid his gloves back on his hands. His voice softened as he added, “And I don’t blame you. You were brought up proper, I know that.”

“Not so proper that I didn’t lie.”

“You were scared, that’s all,” he stated.

His answer surprised her. “I was. I just didn’t know how else to stop Jack, short of hiring a gunslinger.”

“Well you got one now.”

“But you said you weren’t one.”

“Maybe I only hoped I wasn’t. Maybe when I was working for Slim, I thought I could be...well the hour’s late. Best we get some sleep. Tomorrow morning, we got a long ride into town. What time does the stage come through?”

“Not ‘til late afternoon. There’s only one run tomorrow.”

“That should give us enough time to buy some horses.”

She stood up and stared at the barn. Her eyes misted. “Goodnight, Jess.”

“Good night, Laura.”

She started for the door and with her hand on the doorknob, she turned back towards Jess, “Do you think they’ll come back tonight?”

“Nope. Tonight was a warning. If they had wanted us dead, they would have burned the house too. But they will come back. You should know that. This won’t get any easier. Tonight taught them that we’ll fight.”

“And we gave them a good fight too, didn’t we?” she said proudly.

Jess didn’t join in her enthusiasm. “We might not be so lucky the next time. You got to know that. Tonight was a light punch to what it will become. You still want to fight Jack Phillips?”

She gave a quick, determined nod. “I told you that no one runs me off my land.”

“I hope this place is worth it.”

“It is! And you can count on me. Nothing will make me back down.”

“I hope you won’t live to regret those words,” Jess said. “I hope neither one of us does.”

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