CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

They rode in silence over the moonlit landscape, Jess up front with Tolliver and Peters, Slim and Mark behind them surrounded by Tolliver’s men. Jess’s mouth twisted in a bitter grimace at how readily his friends had accepted his part in Tolliver’s gang. He shrugged mentally, hell, what else where they supposed to think, given the circumstances?

At the moment there wasn’t much he could do to change things. Still, he wanted desperately to let them know he was on their side; he recalled all too clearly Slim’s grim, contemptuous look. Jess hunched his shoulders against the cold night wind, and the ache in his heart.

Mark and Slim rode, each with his own thoughts gnawing at them. The disappointment at finding Jess involved with the rustlers filled Slim with rage at the man riding up ahead. Mort Corey had been right. Jess had skated on the thin edge of the law for too long to suddenly have turned over a new leaf. He cursed himself for a blind fool, and yet he still clung to a faint hope that there was an explanation that made sense.

He glanced at Matt feeling sorry for the youth; the kid’s face was tense with emotions locked away behind his dark eyes. ‘Would he be able to pick himself up again, if they even managed through live through this night?’ Slim wondered.

They reached the entrance to the canyon shortly after midnight. One man guarded the pass, and waved casually at them from the rim. They followed the trail out of the pass into the small valley that opened up ahead of them. The cattle milled about, grazing quietly. They ignored the intruders as the men rode right through their midst. With three hundred head the little meadow was almost cropped clean, and Tolliver pointed out it was high time they were moved out. He indicated the campsite up ahead, where a lone man had a good fire going.

“Leave the saddles,” Tolliver instructed as they dismounted. “We’re movin’ out in a few hours.”

“You plannin’ to drive the herd at night, Cal?” Jess asked. “Are you crazy? Whitefaces ain’t easy to herd as it is – they’re damn near impossible at night!”

“We’ll get ‘em movin’,” Tolliver grunted. “No one’ll be expecting a herd that size to move at night. Before anyone wises up to what’s goin’ on we’ll be in Sweetwater.”

“You’ll also be halfway to getting’ us all killed,” Jess pointed out.

“Jess, you bought into this but I’m still callin’ the shots here,” Cal Tolliver snapped. “I say we go, and that’s final!”

The men eyed the two gunfighters; the tension in the air was palpable and they held their breath, waiting for the outcome. Jess moved his hand away from his gun in a dismissive gesture, and took a step back.

“Hell, Cal, we got enough trouble without fightin’ amongst ourselves,” he drawled, pushing the Stetson off his forehead. “If you say we go, that’s fine by me.”

Tolliver nodded curtly, and swung around to his men.

“Peters, get these two jokers settled where they can’t make any trouble. Over there, by those boulders.”

Rafe Peters motioned Matt and Slim away from the fire with his rifle. Slim looked at Jess, his face taut and angry.

“I sure was wrong about you, Jess,” he said bitterly. “Never figured you’d rather ride with rustlers than work up an honest sweat.”

“You shut yer mouth, Sherman,” Peters growled and swung his rifle. The blow caught Slim in the stomach, and he doubled up, gasping for air. Before Jess could move, Peters swung the rifle again and knocked Slim sprawling in the dust.

“Peters!” Jess roared and lunged at the foreman.

The ramrod whirled, holding the rifle at hip height, like a sixshooter. Jess threw himself to one side, slapping leather. They fired almost simultaneously, the rifle slug cut the air next to Jess’ cheek, and then his bullet slammed Peters in the chest. Snarling, Jess fired again and foreman collapsed in a heap by the fire. Jess leapt to his feet, breathing hard, to find himself staring at the business end of Tolliver’s leveled pistol.

“He asked for it, Cal,” Jess said harshly, automatically thumbing new cartridges into the cylinder.

Tolliver stood motionless for a moment, then he let the gun swing on his finger and slid it back into the holster.

“Yeah, I reckon he did,” he sighed. “Always was a hothead. All right, men, show’s over. Two of you get rid of the body. Jess, see to the prisoners, will you?”

Matt was helping Slim to his feet as Jess walked over to them. The rifle butt had caught Slim over the right eye, and blood trickled down his cheek. He weaved on his feet, and Jess pulled off his bandana and silently offered it to him.

“I want nothing from you, Jess, Slim breathed, grimacing as he wiped at the blood in his eyes.

He turned his back on Jess and walked unsteadily over to the cluster of boulders towards the back of the campsite. Matt saw Jess’ face drain of color, a mixture of concern and bitterness in his eyes.

“Jess,” Matt said tentatively. “What’s goin’ on?”

Jess snapped out of his mood, and grabbed him by the arm. He saw Tolliver’s men watching him closely.

“Come on, kid,” he growled, pushing him in Slim’s direction. “Get over there. Now move it!”

“Listen, Matt,” he continued under his breath. “Is there another way out of this canyon?”

“What kind of game are you playin’ now, Jess?” Matt asked startled.

“Just answer my question,” Jess murmured. “Is there another way out?”

“Yeah, as a matter of fact there is,” Matt said and sat down next to Slim. “Not for cattle, but a man on horseback can do it. Cave leads up into a narrow crevice that opens up further up the canyon wall. Old Indian trail, near’s I can tell.”

Slim dabbed at the blood still trickling from his cut forehead, and leaned forward.

“What hell are you up to, Jess?” he whispered fiercely. “Plannin’ to doublecross your new friends?”

“I got no time to argue with you, Slim,” Jess said. “Matt says there’s another way out of this canyon. I’ll create a diversion and when it happens, you go!”

“Why, Jess?” Slim asked, his hand closing on Jess’ arm. “Why should we trust you now?”

“You got any objection to me playin’ the part of a friend just one more time?” Jess asked bitterly.

He shook off Slim’s hand and went back the fire. Slim frowned in exasperation as he gazed after him.

“I don’t understand him,” he sighed. “Matt, what’s this about another way out of here?”

“There’s a cave that leads out further up the north face of the canyon,” Matt said softly. “No more’n a goat’s track, but the horses can make it. Here, I’ll show you.”

He patted his pockets and fished out a crumpled piece of paper. With the pencil stub Slim handed him he quickly drew a crude map.

“It’s at the back of the valley, through a stand of aspen,” he explained. “If we get separated just head for the two big boulders forming an inverted “v” just beyond the trees.” Right here.”

He made a mark, and handed Slim the map.

Jess poured himself a cup of coffee and glanced at Tolliver. He wondered if Gimpy had managed to notify the sheriff. Even if he had, it would be hours before they could reach the box canyon. He was alone, and counting the Rocking T hands, Tolliver had five men backing him. It was time to lower the odds.

“Think I’ll check out the herd,” he said casually, tossing aside the rest of his coffee.

“Just don’t stray too far with those saddlebags, Jess,” Tolliver said quietly.

Jess favored him with a sardonic grin, and stepped into the saddle. Judson made a move to stop him, but Tolliver restrained him with a shake of his head.

“Leave him be,” he said. “He’s all right. And we need his gun.”

“I don’t trust him,” Judson grunted. “Think I’ll keep an eye on him, boss.”

Go easy, Jud,” Tolliver said and helped himself to another cup of coffee.

Jess steered the buckskin towards the back of the herd grazing in the clearing. Keeping an eye on Judson, he carefully eased his rifle out of the scabbard. Holding it across the saddle he walked the horse slowly by Slim and Matt. He reined in and turned to them.

As long as he lived Slim would never forget how Jess looked at that moment. The moon came out from behind the clouds, and caught the rider in its harsh light. Jess was pale and drawn, his eyes like chips of blue steel. A strange, cold fire burned in them, something wild and deadly that sent Slim stumbling to his feet. What he saw filled him with dread, and the sudden certainty that his friend had never been a part of Tolliver’s gang; with a rush of fear he knew that the realization came much too late.

“Jess! You can’t take them on alone…it’s no…”

Jess smiled, and Matt shivered, recognizing the same sad, terrible smile he had seen once before. Like Slim he knew that the last hand in the game had been dealt and called.

Jess raised his hand in a mocking, half-salute. Then he wheeled Buck about and with a bloodcurdling yell he stood up in the stirrups as he charged towards the herd. He fired the rifle over their heads and the cattle jumped nervously forward. Jess settled down in the saddle, and rode straight through the camp, sending the fire and cooking utensils flying. He cut Judson down as the man moved to intercept him, and drove the buckskin into the herd, levering the rifle again and again. Suddenly, the herd was on the move, a huge, brown sea of frightened animals.

“Come on, men, get him,” Tolliver roared. “He’s got the saddlebags!”

He leapt at his horse, and his men followed him, their faces white with fear. A stampede was in progress and no one wanted to get caught on foot.

Slim and Matt caught their mounts, walleyed with fear, and flung themselves into the saddles. No one paid any attention to them, and they made a run for the north end of the canyon. Slim rode blindly through the brush, his ears ringing with riflefire and hoarse shouts. He tried not to think of what was happening behind him, and felt a stab of relief as that wild, defiant yell reached him again. ‘At least Jess is still alive’, he thought fervently.

They weren’t followed, and Slim finally reined in to discover he’d lost sight of Matt Tyrell. He swore softly, and fished out the improvised map from his pocket. He studied it in the scant moonlight. He wasn’t too far off course. The map indicated a cut to the right, through the aspen. He was about to pocket it when he noted there was something written on the back. Curious, he turned it over and glanced at it. A look of utter disbelief spread across his cleancut features, and he sagged in the saddle. It was a receipt from the Laramie Bank, signed by Ted Clayton, acknowledging that the note on the Sherman ranch had been paid in full. It was countersigned by Jess Harper. He blanched as he saw the date.

“My God,” Slim whispered, “the day Mike got shot…”

He swallowed against the lump rising in his throat as he read the note again. He knew all too well what it meant; Jess had used the bounty money for Lou Coulter to pay off the bank loan before he left Laramie.

“Slim, what’s holdin’ you up?” Matt asked tersely as he emerged from the trees.

“I’ve got to go back,” Slim said desperately and thrust the note at him. Matt glanced at it, and looked at Slim questioningly.

“He paid off my bank loan with the reward he got for Lou Coulter,” Slim explained. “The same day he squared off with your brother…” his voice trailed off. “The same day he got shot and Mike… Matt, where’d you get this note?”

“Well, I…” Matt stopped as a thought struck him. “Jess loaned me this shirt some time back. Guess I just forgot to return it. Paper must’ve been in his pocket all this time.”

Slim pulled at the reins to turn his horse. Matt’s hand shot out and grabbed the bridle.

“Slim, hold up! Listen!”

Slim looked puzzled for a moment, then he caught a sound that raised the hackles on his neck. The ground shook beneath them, and like distant thunder came the roar of a herd out of control.

“Stampede!” he said aghast. “Come on, we’ve gotta help him!”

“Slim, use your head,” Matt yelled. “It’s too late, once they’re on the move nothing’ll stop ‘em. We’ve got to get away from here while we still have a chance!”

“I can’t just leave him here,” Slim shouted.

“He’s buying us time to get away,” Matt said savagely, tears stinging his eyes as he jerked at the bridle. “For God’s sake, Slim, would you have him die for nothing?”

A groan of despair wrenched its way past Slim’s clenched teeth, and he let Matt pull the horses into the grove of aspen.

They tore through into a small clearing. Shuddering, Slim shut his mind to the rumbling behind them, and followed Matt down the trail at breakneck speed. They reached the cave, and drove the horses into it. The dark closed around them as the skittish animals carefully picked their way. The cave was narrow and slanted steeply upwards. Slim’s horse stumbled and nearly threw him, and the close call brought some semblance of reality back to him. He guided the animal gently, barely able to make out Tyrell’s shape ahead of him in the gloom.

“Up ahead, Slim,” Matt whispered.

The moonlight beckoned them from the opening, and they emerged halfway up the canyon wall, onto a narrow, overgrown trail. His heart pounding, Slim wiped his sleeve across his sweaty, bloodstreaked forehead and gazed back down into the valley. The sight made his blood freeze. The herd was stampeding all right, a seething mass of bawling, frightened beef pouring down into the pass leading out of the canyon. Tolliver’s men seemed to be caught in the middle of it all.

“Slim, look!” Matt yelled and pointed.

Slim strained his eyes, and caught sight of one lone rider running full out ahead of the herd.

“It’s Jess!” he said tonelessly.

“He may make it after all, Slim,” Matt exulted. “That crazy buckskin of his may outrun the herd!”

Jess steered Buck through the herd with a firm, sure hand, getting out in front before they ran completely wild. Once up ahead, he wasted no time. He leaned forward and whistled shrilly in the animal’s ear, and the buckskin bounded forward and streaked down the pass.

Jess risked a backward glance. The outlaws were caught in the stampede which was now picking up speed. They would soon be boxed in, and he prayed that Slim and Matt had got away safely. The thunder of stampeding hooves reached him and he concentrated on riding. He hit the pass and sent Buck flying down the trail. If he could stay out in front of the herd until they got out of the canyon he’d have a chance.

“Come on, boy, come on,” he urged.

They rounded a bend, and the crack of a rifle cut the air above the noise of the stampede, and while Slim and Matt watched helplessly the buckskin stumbled and went down. Jess reacted on blind instinct and kicked free of the stirrups. He hit the ground rolling, clutching his rifle.

The fall knocked the wind out of him, and for a split second he couldn’t move. As the air crept back into his lungs, he crawled over to the fallen horse. The gallant animal was dead, the slug had caught him in the throat. A bullet dug into the dirt behind him, and Jess threw the rifle to his chin. With a snarl of rage he saw the guard up on the canyon rim, the one man he’d forgotten about. He squeezed the trigger with infinite care, and watched with dark satisfaction as the man threw up his arms and tumbled off the cliff.

“It’s a long way down, friend,” he muttered.

Jess had nowhere left to run, and his heart grew cold as he saw the thundering herd bearing down on him. Tolliver and his men were still keeping pace with them, but they were caught in an ever tightening vice. Jess reloaded and fired rapidly at the lead steers. If he could kill enough of them to drive a wedge and split the herd, turn them, maybe…

He kept firing and they kept coming.

From their vantage point high above the valley floor, Slim and Matt Tyrell held their breath in agonized silence. They could only watch helplessly as Jess straightened up behind his fallen horse to make a last ditch stand.

“He’s trying to split them,” Slim said, his face ashen.

“There’s no time,” Matt whispered. “He’ll never make it.”

The world around Jess seemed to have suddenly gone mad. He dropped the first half dozen steers, and as the followers stumbled over the dead cattle he found time to reload. Dust swirled, obscuring his vision, and the wild bellowing of the panicked steers filled his ears. He could barely see to fire, some of the shots went wild, and then it was all over.

A steer went down next to him, then another, a flailing hoof caught him a glancing blow, knocking him down. He pressed close to the buckskin, seeking the meager protection the dead animal offered. The rifle was knocked out of his hands and a huge steer reared up before him. Swearing, Jess emptied his revolver at it, but the brute came on. With a shout he threw up his hands to protect himself, hooves slammed into his chest and he felt ribs cave in. Blinding agony shot through his lungs, and he gasped, choking on blood and dust. Then the hellish noise around him died away, and with a weary sigh he slipped into the beckoning darkness.

Slim stared at the carnage below in stunned silence. The dust was settling and except for the occasional bellow from a belligerent steer silence once again reigned over the little valley. It seemed almost deafening after the thunderous roar of the stampede.

He shivered as he gazed into the pass where Jess had gone down. All that was to be seen was a pile-up of dead cattle. They couldn’t make out horse or rider. Tolliver and his men were lost in the raging stampede, trampled under hundreds of runaway hooves. The cattle milled about on the valley floor, still nervous, but gradually quieting. He drew a shaky breath and backed his horse away from the edge of the trail. Matt put a hand out to restrain him.

“Leave it for the sheriff, Slim,” he said gently.

“I owe him my life,” Slim said, his voice strangely devoid of emotion. “And my ranch. Let me go, Matt.”

His voice broke and he turned away, tears staining his face.

“All right, I’m coming with you,” Matt said.

*****

Jess gave up struggling and lay still. The dead steer was a crushing weight on his chest, and each breath required more effort than the last. He coughed as the wind blew dust in his face, and needlesharp pain cut into his lungs. It felt like his insides were stove in.

With an effort he raised his head slightly to look around. Beyond the body of his horse he saw a mound of dead cattle, enough to create a barrier and turn the runaway herd back into the valley. His head sank back and he gazed up at the dark sky. The night was cold and clear, and he shivered in the chilly air. Another fit of coughing racked him and he tasted blood as it trickled from the corner of his mouth. He ran a weary hand across his chest. The broken ribs must have pierced his lungs; Jess closed his eyes in resignation.

He lay quiet, trying to take shallow easy breaths against the daggers in his chest. After a while his mind wandered feverishly through the past few months. Mike and Daisy’s smiling faces drifted by, and hot tears pressed against his eyelids. They faded away and Hurd Tyrell loomed up out of the darkness, behind him crowded his sons, Billy and Johnny, they reached for him, and he instinctively threw up his hands to ward them off.

“No…n…no,” he gasped.” Get away…”

He gagged at the blood that welled up in his mouth and turned his head, letting it drip to the ground. He watched as the dust soaked it up, wondering vaguely how long he could last. ‘How much time had passed since he went down? Had Slim and Matt managed to get away safely, or had they been cut down by Tolliver’s men?’ He clenched his fists, chills racking his body. He had to believe they’d made it, or it would all have been for nothing.

He opened his eyes to find Slim’s pale, anxious face drifting past his vision. Jess experienced a sharp stab of regret at the aching awareness of time wasted, of things left unsaid. Dying didn’t bother him so much, but he had wanted to square things with Slim. He tried to make his dry, cracked lips work and grimaced as he drew a painfilled breath.

“Slim,” he whispered, “Slim…”

The image wouldn’t fade, and he blinked as the fever pounded in his ears, wondering dizzily if he was dreaming.

“Slim?” he said weakly, stretching a trembling hand towards the image.

”Right here, pard,” Slim said and grasped his hand firmly. “Just hang on, we’ll have you free in a second.”

Slim wrung off his jacket, trying not to think about the crumpled figure pinned under the dead steer. He folded it gently under his friend’s head.

“Matt! Over here! I’ve found him!” he yelled. He held his canteen out to Jess and he drank greedily, and too fast. He started coughing and bloody froth bubbled on his lips. Torn by fear, Slim wiped it away with his bandana; he could scarcely credit that Jess was still alive.

“Lay still, Jess,” he said softly, “don’t move no more’n you have to, we’ll get you out.”

“Matt…” Jess choked. He was filled with a desperate sense of urgency, a fear that he wouldn’t have time to say what he wanted before it was too late.

“He’s all right,” Slim assured him. “We got away clean. Tolliver and the others are dead.”

“Money…money’s in my…saddlebags,” Jess said hoarsely. “I played along with Tolliver…to see…to see what his game was…” His voice faded and his immediate surroundings blurred.

Slim laid a careful hand on his shoulder as he bent over him. Jess’ words flooded him with relief, even as he knew that if things had turned out different, if Jess had been riding with the outlaws he still owed this man his life and his ranch. Would he get a chance to make it up to him, somehow?

“I know, Jess,” he said. “Don’t talk, just lie still. We’ll get this steer off you, I can’t have my partner of mine lying down on the job like this.”

Jess gazed up at him, his face lined and ashen with pain. Slim caught his breath when he saw how far gone he was; the fire in his eyes was dying. Jess smiled weakly, a smile that turned into a contorted grimace of agony as he tried to draw air into his tortured lungs. His hand pushed futilely at the weight on his chest, and Slim had to hold him down.

“Matt!” he roared.

“Here, Slim,” Tyrell called out, maneuvering past the pile of dead cattle. “Have you found…”

He took in the scene that met his eyes, and was at their side in an instant.

“Jess!”

“It’s okay, kid,” Jess whispered.

Matt shot Slim a despairing glance, and Slim shook his head slightly.

“Get your rope around its neck, and back it up so’s I can drag him clear,” he said.

Matt shook loose his lariat and looped it over the head of the steer. He swung back in the saddle and wrapped the end of the rope around the horn.

“Easy now,” Slim admonished. “All right, back it up slow.”

Tyrell reined his horse, backing up, and the head and neck of the dead steer lifted. Slim placed his hands under Jess’ shoulders, and tried to pull him free. A sharply drawn breath was the only indication of how much his friend was suffering.

“Pull it back some more,” Slim directed. “Steady now.”

Matt’s horse stepped gingerly, fighting the weight, and slowly the shoulders of the huge brute twisted up, and Jess felt the unbearable crushing sensation ease. Slim drew him out from under, and Matt let go of the rope. The steer crashed back down, jarring the earth. Slim soaked his bandana with water from his canteen, and bathed Jess’ face.

“Hold on, pard,” he urged. “Please hold on, we’ll get you back to the ranch.”

“Sure.” Jess’ lips twisted in a wry grimace. His eyes clouded with pain he regarded his two friends. He saw the concern and despair there, wanted to tell them it was all right, he really didn’t hurt so much anymore, but his voice seemed to have left him, and he closed his eyes wearily.

“He’s passed out,” Matt said anxiously. “Slim, what do you think?”

Slim ran his hands lightly over Jess’ chest and hissed as he felt the broken ribs.

“His insides are caved in,” he grated. “He’ll never make it on a horse. We’ll have to rig a travois.”

“He never was part of Tolliver’s gang, was he?” Matt said. It was more a statement than a question.

“No, he wasn’t,” Slim replied. “He went along with them so he could catch them with the goods. Your money’s in his saddlebags, Matt.”

Tyrell’s shoulders slumped, as if the knowledge was more than he could handle.

“I should’ve known,” he muttered. “I should never have believed he’d be a party to…”

“That makes two of us, kid,” Slim said gently. “Come on, help me with the travois. I can’t go very fast with Jess, so you ride on ahead and fetch the doc.”

They bent wordlessly to their task, neither one of them wanting to voice how little hope they held out for the man on the ground.

ooo0ooo

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

Sheriff Carlin hitched up his gunbelt, and gazed in frustration at Matt Tyrell.

“Dammit, Matt, you step aside and let me do my duty,” he growled.

Matt stood squarely in front of him, blocking his entrance to the Tyrell home. The sheriff was an old friend of the family, and Matt knew well enough that his father had been the man’s mentor. Carlin had been instrumental in bringing Jess Harper to trial for his brother’s killing two years ago, and Hurd Tyrell had kept him firmly in his pocket after that.

“You can’t hide him here forever,” Carlin pointed out. “I have a right to…”

“You have no right whatsoever, sheriff,” Matt said curtly. “As long as I refuse to press charges there is nothing you can do.”

“He tried to steal you blind, for God’s sake,” Carlin sputtered. “You’ve got cattle scattered all over creation, your foreman and hired hands are dead…”

“If Jess had been part of Tolliver’s gang do you think he would have sent Gimpy into town after you?” Matt asked pointedly.

Carlin shook his head and rammed his mangled Stetson back on his head.

“I don’t understand you, son, after all he’s done to you?”

“What about all we’ve done to him?” Matt asked bleakly and turned his back on the sheriff.

John Carlin tugged at his moustache as he stomped towards his horse. The kid had a point. It didn’t make much sense for Harper to send for the sheriff if he was really riding with the outlaws. In a flash of soul searching Carlin reflected that he had done Hurd Tyrell’s bidding for so long he’d almost forgotten to think for himself. Perhaps it was time he put old man Tyrell’s ghost to rest, and looked to the future. Still, it was a bloody business. Muttering to himself, he mounted up and headed back to Bowdrie.

*****

Matt put away the book he was reading and eyed Slim anxiously as he had every night for so many nights gone by.

”How is he?”

Slim closed the door quietly behind him, and ran a hand through his rumpled blond hair.

“Driftin’ in and out,” he sighed. “Fever’s down. I’ll have to take the doc’s word for it that he’s going to make it.”

He slid down in a chair next to Matt, and stared moodily at the tip of his boots.

“It’s a miracle he got this far,” Matt said, echoing the words of the doctor two weeks ago when they’d brought Jess back to the ranch on the travois.

“Yeah.” Slim stretched his feet out in front of him and eased his aching neck against the headrest. “I’m headin’ back to Laramie on the noon stage tomorrow,” he said slowly. “I’ve got to get back to the ranch, Matt. I’ve been gone too long as it is.”

“What about Jess? He can’t travel yet.”

“I’ll be back in a week or so,” Slim replied. “There are just some things that have to be taken care of at home. I can’t go on relying on the neighbors indefinitely. Besides, there’s Mike and Daisy to consider. I’ve been gone nigh on a month, Matt. I need to be there.”

Tyrell nodded slightly. The nightmare of the last few weeks still sat too close to be shrugged off easily. Fortunately, Bowdrie had a surgeon as well as a general practitioner. His father had paid for the post, many years ago, and now, ironically, it had served to save the life of the man that had killed him.

Doctor Phillips had been out to the ranch every day for the past two weeks, each time shaking his head saying Jess had no business being alive at all. In the end he had thrown his hands up in surrender, and said that given time and rest, chances were he’d be on his feet again come Christmas.

“Gimpy and I’ll look after him, Slim,” Matt said. “You don’t have to worry.”

“I know that, kid,” Slim grinned. “Gimpy watches over him like a hawk. I practically had to fight him to let me take over so’s he could get some sleep.”

“He’d adopt Jess if he thought he could get away with it,” Matt chuckled.

“Yeah, well, Daisy’s already laid claim to him, so that won’t work.” Slim yawned. He got up, reluctant to leave the warmth of the fireplace. “I’m turnin’ in, Matt.”

“I’ll have a horse saddled and ready for you tomorrow morning,” Matt nodded.

*****

Jess rested his head against the pillows, and watched the light flurries drift down from the leaden skies. Gimpy and Matt had moved the bed so it faced the large picture window Sarah Tyrell had insisted on for the main guest room. In a short while he knew Gimpy would come trotting in with his lunch tray. He had tried to tell the kindly Irishman that he was well enough to be up and about, but the old man would have none of it and Jess knew better than to argue with that inbred stubbornness.

Gimpy had nursed him through one crisis after another, and if truth be told Jess sometimes doubted he’d have made it at all if it hadn’t been for his round-the-clock care and vigilance. He fiddled restlessly with the bandages encircling his chest. Doctor Phillips had patched up his busted insides, muttering all the while that the only thing holding him together was a hoot and a holler plus some fancy stitching. Taking an unguarded breath still sent pain knifing through his lungs, a rude reminder that he still had a ways to go before he was fully healed.

He turned his head as the door opened, and Gimpy limped into the room, bearing a tray laden with food. Matt followed close behind, brushing snow of his shoulders.

“Say now, Jess, you’re lookin’ a mite better,” he grinned at his friend. “How do you feel?”

“Well enough to get out of bed,” Jess sighed, eyeing Gimpy hopefully.

“Oh no, you don’t, laddie,” Gimpy said sternly, and placed the tray on the nightstand. “Ye heard what the young doctor said, another week or two at least. Ye’ don’t want to start the bleedin’ again, now do ye? I’ve made your favorite, Shepherd’s Pie!”

“Tough life, ain’t it, Jess?” Matt laughed and pulled up a chair.

Jess grinned ruefully as Gimpy fussed with his pillows and blankets to make sure he was comfortable. Then, sharply reminding him to finish everything on his plate, he left them alone. Jess knew Matt had been in town, and his blue eyes narrowed questioningly as his picked up his fork.

Matt read the unvoiced query and rubbed at his jaw. “Sorry, no word from Laramie,” he said reluctantly.

Jess ate a few mouthfuls in silence, and then pushed the tray aside. Matt caught the pain in his eyes, and knew it wasn’t because of his injuries. Slim had said he’d be back in a week or two, and that was over a month ago. Matt swore silently, wanting to reassure his friend, but not knowing what to say.

“Any number of reasons why he hasn’t made it back yet,” he said lamely. It sounded hollow, even to his ears.

Jess just nodded. The disappointment was so sharp he didn’t trust his voice. He had waited to hear from Laramie ever since Matt told him Slim had gone back to tend to the ranch, and as the days slid by without any news, he had tried to get used to the idea that none might be coming.

“Well, I hope you’re ready for tomorrow,” Matt said, trying to sound cheerful. “Old Gimp’s been cookin’ up a storm the last few days, and he expects to see justice done to it all.”

“Tomorrow?” Jess said, puzzled.

“It’s Thanksgiving,” Matt grinned. “And if it keeps snowing it’ll be a white one too. I dispatched the turkey yesterday, and Gimpy’s been fussing over it ever since. Enough food for an army.”

“Thanksgiving,” Jess said slowly. “Has it been that long…hell, Matt, I’ve got to get back on my feet!”

“You lie still. Just ‘cause you’re not coughing up blood anymore, don’t mean you can’t start hemorrhaging again if you jump the gun.”

“You’re a real cheerful cuss, ain’t you,” Jess groused. “I swear you’n’Gimpy are in cahoots.”

“You finish your lunch,” his friend said and got up. “I’ll look in on you later, soon’s I see how the new hands are doing down at the bunk house.”

“They workin’ out?”

“Sure are,” Matt nodded. “We got most of the stolen herd rounded up, and I’ve just received word from Fort Sutton that the army’ll take all we can deliver come spring. The Rocking T is back in business, Jess.”

“I knew your could do it, kid,” Jess said sincerely. “Just wish I’d never put you in a situation where…”

“Whoa there!” Matt said holding up his hands. “Let’s have no more of that kind of talk. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Jess watched him go, a slight, bleak smile on his lean features. The kid was solid gold. He would do just fine. He placed the lunch tray back on the nightstand, his appetite gone.

Matt didn’t need his help anymore, and Slim was obviously not coming back. It was time for him to pull up stakes and get away from the Rocking T. He knew Matt wanted him to stay on, but there was no sense fooling himself. The young man was grateful for his help, but sooner or later the shadows of his dead father and brothers would surface between them.

He looked at his slim hands, resting on the blanket. His right hand clenched into a tight fist. Did he like to kill then, since he was so damned good at it? He closed his eyes as his violent past crowded around him, and faced the question honestly.

After a while he opened his eyes and focused on the ceiling. No, he had never shot a man just to see him fall, but neither had he been haunted by remorse afterwards either. Except for Billy Tyrell; he had been so young… there had been no time to think, to shoot high… it was too late and the boy died.

Jess pushed the memories aside and pulled himself up. Cautiously he swung his legs over the side of the bed. His breath came in short, painful gasps as he dressed. Damn his weakness! His gunbelt hung over the headboard and he buckled it on, making sure the weapon was fully loaded.

Pressing a hand against his midriff, he walked carefully over to the window. It was getting dark outside, the snow had abated and his breath fogged on the glass. Jess shivered suddenly, but not because of the cold. He had the eerie feeling someone had just walked over his grave. He fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, got it done, and wiped the perspiration off his forehead.

The room rocked crazily around him, but he clenched his teeth, refusing to give in. Walking slightly hunched over against the ache in his chest, he moved towards the door. He heard the front door slam, and the sound of loud voices. He recognized Gimpy’s Irish brogue, and then felt the hackles rise on his neck as he realized who the other voice belonged to.

Lunging forward, Jess threw open the door, his gun in his hand even before he knew he’d drawn it. Gimpy was facing a man in a sheepskin jacket and grey Stetson. His grizzled face was red with consternation, and his eyes widened in surprise when he saw Jess.

“Tolliver!” Jess grated, his fighter tightening on the trigger.

The outlaw whirled, one arm snaking around Gimpy’s throat, the other jamming the gunbarrel into the old man’s neck.

“Well now, Jess, boy,” he chuckled.

“I thought you were dead,” Jess said hoarsely.

“Likewise, friend,” Tolliver grinned. “One wrong move and the gimp buys it.”

Gimpy O’Shea held his breath as the two men faced each other, their cold eyes drawing all the warmth out of the room.

“Let him go, Cal.”

“I’m still callin’ the shots, Jess,” Tolliver snapped. “Drop the gun or I drop him. Now!”

Shuddering, Jess eased the hammer down. He let the revolver drop to the floor.

“Kick it over here.”

Jess aimed a kick at the weapon, and then, gambling desperately, he hooked his toe under a dining chair and sent it flying towards the outlaw. With an oath Tolliver pushed Gimpy aside, knocking him sprawling into the corner hutch. Gimpy hit his head on the edge and collapsed in a heap.

Tolliver sidestepped the chair and Jess launched himself at him with an angry roar. They crashed into each other, and rolled around on the floor. Tolliver lost his gun, and scrabbled frantically to retrieve it. Jess grabbed his arm, twisting it away, but he was far too weak to put up much of a fight against the outlaw who was uninjured and fresh as newly minted coin.

Tolliver shook him off, and scrambled to his knees. His face twisted and ugly he lashed out at his opponent. Jess ducked the blow, but the next one caught him square in the chest, and his half healed injuries exploded in pain. He rolled desperately away from Tolliver and staggered to his feet. He collided with the dining table and a made a feeble attempt to ward off Tolliver’s punishing blows, but the outlaw kept coming, pummeling him mercilessly.

As Jess clung to the table, almost unconscious but still on his feet, Tolliver retrieved his gun and leveled it at him. Holding an arm against his chest, Jess heaved at the fire and ice that lanced through him. He doubled over as a violet coughing fit racked him.

“You look like hell, Jess, boy,” Tolliver noted cheerfully, brushing dust of his jacket.

Jess grimaced as he tasted blood in his mouth. Ignoring Tolliver he looked over at Gimpy’s crumpled form.

“If you’ve killed him there won’t a hole big enough to hold you, Cal,” he whispered.

“He’s just out cold,” Tolliver shrugged. “You sure had me fooled, Jess. Thought for sure you was a goner in that stampede. Didn’t find out till a week later that you were alive. Friend of mine passed through here and picked up the gossip.”

“You didn’t waste any time,” Jess said. He was white with agony, a sheen of sweat on his face. He struggled to keep Tolliver’s gloating face in focus.

“What happens now?” he asked shakily.

“Why, Jess, I’ve come to collect what’s owed me,” Cal Tolliver grinned. “Let’s you and me pay another visit to that safe, only this time I’ll carry the saddlebags.”

He gestured towards the den with his gun.

“Don’t be a fool, Cal, there’s nothin’ in that safe,” Jess winced as pain cut through him like a knife. He caught his breath. “You… you don’t think the kid’s… dumb enough to keep it here after… what happened?”

Tolliver’s eyes narrowed for a split second and then he threw his head back and laughed.

“Oh no, you don’t, Jess. Let’s go see, shall we?”

Casting a worried glance at Gimpy, Jess shuffled ahead of the outlaw into the den. He stumbled as Tolliver pushed him towards the safe, but caught his balance.

“All right, open it!”

“I tell you it’s a waste of time,” Jess said, kneeling by the safe. He wiped at his lips with the back of his hand, saw the streak of blood.

“You let me be the judge of that,” Tolliver sneered. “Hurry it up! Someone might’ve heard the ruckus.”

Jess spun the dial with shaking fingers. He swallowed blood and slowly pulled the door open. The safe was empty except for a bulging canvas sack.

“Empty, eh?” Tolliver said. “Toss me the sack, Jess, real easy like.”

Jess knew the sack contained only records and receipts of the Rocking T’s day-to-day business, and reached for it with a sinking heart. His hand brushed against on object the sack had hidden from view, and he went cold inside as he realized it was a gun. ‘Was it loaded’? Well, in a few second he’d know for sure.

His fingers closed around the weapon, and as he tossed the sack to Tolliver with his left hand his right brought the revolver up and fired in one lightening swift movement. His aim was off, and the slug caught the outlaw high in the left shoulder. Tolliver staggered back with a strangled oath, a look of utter astonishment on his features. He still clutched his gun, and tried to bring it to bear. Jess slammed back the hammer, and the next two shots fell so quickly they sounded like one. They took Cal Tolliver right over the heart, and the distance between them could have been covered by a silver dollar. Tolliver stumbled through the door into the other room, and fell across the dining table, dragging tablecloth and china with him as he collapsed in a bloody heap.

He drew a fiery breath into his aching chest and weaved on his feet. He fumbled mechanically for bullets to reload and then froze as he heard footsteps. His finger tightened on the trigger and he looked up to find Gimpy standing in the doorway, with Matt right behind him. Gimpy’s craggy face was lined with shock as he gazed at the apparition in the den.

The wounded, helpless lamb he had cared for these past weeks was gone. In its place stood this dark, savage wolf, eyes blazing and bloodied lips drawn back in a feral snarl. The old man was overcome by a sense of alarm and inexplicable loss, and Matt instinctively put a hand on his shoulder. He shuddered as he looked at his friend. Friend? He hardly recognized him in this pale, bloody stranger who held a gun pointed at him.

Jess saw the sudden apprehension in their eyes, and the sheer bloodlust that had pounded in his ears a few seconds ago died away. The gun fell from his shaking hand, but he barely noticed it.

”Gimpy…Matt…” he said, reaching out to them.

Gimpy stumbled back and it was as if he’d slapped Jess across the face. His expression was one Matt hoped never to see again. Stunned, Jess let his hand fall to his side, the adrenaline that had kept him going no longer able to sustain him. Matt caught hold of himself, suddenly seeing what they were doing to him. He came quickly towards him, but it was too late. The cut had been too unkind, the hurt too deep, and Jess had nothing left to give. He was dying inside, yet his gaze turned hooded and cold as he wiped the blood of his chin with his shirtsleeve.

“Sorry… ‘bout the… mess,” he said harshly, and brushed past them.

They watched in silence as he stepped over the body of Cal Tolliver, avoiding the broken glass and china. Keeping a tight rein on himself Jess retrieved his gun and shoved it into the holster. He took his hat and jacket off the peg by the front door and Matt finally found his voice again.

“Jess…”

“I’ll need a horse as far as town,” Jess said, his voice raw. “You can… pick him up at the livery.”

“Jess, listen to me,” Matt pleaded. “Dammit, I’m sorry, it’s just that…”

He stopped helplessly. They eyed each other over the destruction in the room, and with a sinking feeling Matt knew their friendship could never be repaired. He had failed his friend just when he most needed his understanding.

“Yeah, I know, kid,” Jess said. There was no trace of bitterness in his voice, just an infinite weariness.

“You’re not healed yet,” Matt protested, “You can’t just… where will you go?”

Jess shrugged an unreadable smile on his drawn features. The door slammed behind him and he was gone.

“Jess” Matt cried.

“Let him go, laddie,” Gimpy said softly, his kindly old heart going out to the lonely renegade. “Let him go, or the day’ll come, Matt, when you’ll be facing him with a loaded pistol. Aye, I think he knows that; ‘tis better this way.”

“But he has no place to go,” Matt murmured, looking out the window at the solitary figure that rode out of the yard without a backward glance.

“If he has any sense he’ll know where his salvation lies,” Gimpy said with a strangely calm certainty.

ooo0ooo

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

Jess rocked with the motion of the stage as it rolled along the snow-covered route. The landscape blurred before his fever-glazed eyes, and he huddled deeper into his sheepskin jacket. The air was clear and bitter cold, but it had stopped snowing. He’d never met the stage driver before. He introduced himself as Trask and he was an amiable, talkative sort and kept up a running commentary about the world in general and stage line bosses in particular.

“We should be makin’ the turn off shortly,” Trask said. “Sorry I can’t run you all the way in to the relay station, but I’m behind schedule as it is with this weather. Ain’t more’n a half a mile or so, can you make it all right?”

“Yeah.”

“You a friend of Sherman’s?” the driver wondered, casting a sideways glance at his uncommunicative passenger. He’d been doing most of the talking, with only a muttered response from the man sharing the driver’s seat with him.

“We’ve met,” Jess said noncommittally.

“Reckon he knows you’re comin’ then,” Trask said, cracking the whip over the lead team as they came out of a curve. “Ain’t no way of getting’ to Laramie tonight, this is the last stage, you know.”

When he didn’t get any response he shrugged and turned his attention to his driving. Holding the reins with one hand, he dug out some chewing

tobacco and bit off a healthy plug. He chomped pleasurably on it, not sure what to say next.

“Hear Sherman’s taken on a partner,” he offered and spat into a passing snowdrift. “Say, we made good time, here we are already!”

Jess sagged back against the seat, the driver’s casual words leaving him shaken and dismayed. Slim had taken on a partner? What a fool he was to think he could just wander back into their lives after all that had happened. What the hell had he been thinking? The stage pulled to a halt and Jess clambered down, his thoughts in complete disarray.

“You take care now, mister,” Trask nodded and shook the reins.

Jess stood for a moment staring after the stage until it disappeared around a bend in the road. He considered firing off a shot to get the driver to stop, but decided against it. No sense spooking the man.

Jamming his hands deep in his pockets, he trudged along the road towards the ranch. Well, he would stay the night, and catch the first stage out in the morning. At least he would get to see them all again before he put Laramie behind him, this time for good.

His mouth twisted in a bitter grimace. And then what? He thought about Trail’s End; with Cal Tolliver out of the way the town would be wide open. Jess shook his head. Alive Tolliver had done his best to recruit him, but it wasn’t until after his death that he was at last giving the hoot owl trail a serious thought.

Shivering with a fever that had dogged him since he left the Rocking T, he plodded through the light snow cover, the welcoming lights from the ranch house beckoning in the distance. He hesitated on the porch, suddenly afraid. He had longed to be back here, and yet he was cold with apprehension. What kind of reception would he get?

He peered through the window, and saw Daisy bustling by the stove, there didn’t seem to be anyone else around. He ground his teeth as he straightened up. The hemorrhaging had stopped of its own accord, and he wasn’t spitting blood anymore, but the pain still caught him unawares. Doc Phillips’ handiwork seemed to be holding up though, despite the beating it had taken.

Jess rapped quickly on the door and stepped inside. The familiar warmth and cheerfulness of the room wrapped itself around him as he entered, the fireplace alight with logs and the aroma of good cooking tickling his nose. Daisy turned from the stove as he shut the door behind him, and for a moment she just stood there, staring at him as if she’d seen a ghost. Jess waited, knowing if he saw the same fear on her face as he had with Matt and Gimpy, it would finish him. His emotions in turmoil, nerve endings raw, he removed his hat and brushed awkwardly at the snow.

Daisy simply couldn’t believe he was standing in front of her, big as life. Thin and unshaven with dark shadows under his eyes, so much like the first time he’d come to the ranch, but this time with a lost, helpless look about him as he hesitantly took a step in her direction.

“Jess!” she exclaimed, the name catching in her throat. A radiantly sunny smile spread across her gentle features. “You’ve come home!”

Jess gathered her up in his arms and held her, his unshaven cheek resting against her tumble of gray curls. He felt something cold and hard melt away inside him, and he clung to Daisy as if he were drowning.

“Daisy, Daisy,” he murmured, shaking his head as he released her and stepped back. “I didn’t mean to… to bust in on you like this, but I …”

“Shush,” Daisy laughed. “No more of that, young man. Jess, my goodness, where did you spring from? Slim’s in town, but I expect him back any minute.”

A door opened and a small whirlwind came flying at them, nightshirt flapping. Jess opened his arms and Mike flew into them, throwing his arms around his neck. Buttons scampered hard on his heels, his tail wagging so hard the little dog was almost running sideways.

“Jess!” Mike hollered, giving his friend the biggest bearhug his small, slight frame could manage. “Jess, I knew you’d come back, I just knew it!”

Ignoring the pain in his chest, Jess squeezed the boy tightly, and got another hug in return. Gratitude and relief washed over him, leaving him weak and shaky, and he sat down abruptly in the rocking chair by the fireplace. Still holding Mike, he looked up at Daisy over the boy’s tousled hair. His eyes shone with fever, but also with something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She put an arm around his shoulders.

“Oh, Jess, it’s good to have you back,” she said. “But you should have let us know you were coming, it would’ve saved Slim the trip into town.”

Jess gave her a puzzled look; she smiled secretively and Mike broke into a fit of giggles. He curled up on Jess’ lap, tucking his bare feet up under his nightshirt. Buttons parked himself across Jess’ feet, gazing up at them tongue hanging out contentedly.

“Gee, Jess, all kinds of things’ve been happening since you left,” Mike yawned. “Just wait’ll I show you the…”

“Mike!” Daisy said sternly and he clapped his hand over his mouth.

Jess grinned wearily, not understanding a thing, and not caring. He leaned back in the chair, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. The pleasure of seeing him again faded from Daisy’s face, replaced by a sharp concern. She leaned forward and put a hand to his cheek.

“You’re running a fever,” she stated, brushing back the unruly dark hair from his forehead.

“It’s nothin’, Daisy,” he murmured, resting his head against her hand. “I just need… some rest…”

He closed his eyes giving in to the warmth from the fireplace, letting it seep into his bones, easing the aches. Daisy’s voice seemed to be coming from far away, she was saying something about doctors and medicine, but all of that was unimportant…

“Aunt Daisy, can I just sit here a little while longer?” Mike pleaded. “Please.”

Worried about Jess, Daisy nevertheless felt what he need most right now was some sleep. He looked out on his feet.

“All right, Mike,” she said softly, rumpling the boy’s hair.

When she looked in on them a little later they were both fast asleep, and with a fond smile she took a blanket from the couch and covered them gently. As she returned to the kitchen, she heard someone stomping out on the back porch and Slim came in, carrying a box of groceries.

“Phew, it’s cold out there,” he said, kicking the door shut with his heel. “It’ll freeze tonight, no doubt about it.”

He dumped the carton on the kitchen counter, and removed his heavy jacket.

“I got the cable off,” he continued. “They finally repaired the lines. The Rocking T should have it by tomorrow.”

He caught the expression on Daisy’s face, and put down the towel he was wiping his hands with.

“You look like a fox in a chicken coop, Daisy,” he grinned. “What’s goin’ on?”

Daisy shook her head, and pointed to the living room. Slim followed her gaze and his jaw dropped in astonishment. Without another look at her he strode to the fireplace and stared at the two figures in the rocking chair. Mike lay nestled in Jess’ arms, curled up like a friendly puppy. Jess rested his chin on the boy’s head, his eyes closed, his breathing shallow and rasping in his throat.

“When…where did…” Slim faltered his voice unsteady. He was completely taken aback.

Daisy came and put an arm around his waist. “He just wandered in here again, like the first time, exhausted and sick, and I’ll wager hungry, too. I think our stray has come home, Slim.”

“So much for the cable I sent off to Matt Tyrell,” Slim said ruefully, scratching his head. “I didn’t think Jess’d be well enough to travel yet.”

“I doubt that he is,” Daisy said. “He’s running a fever and he should be in bed, but I hadn’t the heart to disturb them.”

Slim bent down and gently pried Mike loose. He lifted him up and carried him into his room. The boy muttered something in his sleep, but didn’t wake up. With an affectionate grin Slim tucked him in bed and quietly closed the door on him.

*****

Jess stirred restlessly. The murmur of voices reached him from the kitchen and for a moment he wondered where he was. It didn’t look like the Rocking T. Then he remembered and sat up quickly. The nightmarish events of the last few weeks were behind him, he was back at the Sherman ranch.

Jess leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and rested his aching head in his hands. The welcome Daisy and Mike had given him left no room for doubt that they were overjoyed to see him, and the memory of their smiling faces flooded him with warmth. There was still Slim to consider, and he bit his lip as he recalled the stage driver’s words about Slim’s new partner.

He started as a hand came to rest on his shoulder, and looked up at Slim’s smiling face.

“You might’ve let us know you were comin’,” Slim drawled.

“Slim!” Jess said hoarsely and stumbled to his feet. He ran a hand through his fever dampened hair, swaying unsteadily.

Slim grabbed hold of him and unceremoniously shoved him back in the rocker.

“Easy, Jess, you’re in no shape to be movin’ around,” he said, concern in his eyes. “Why didn’t you stay put at the Rocking T? I just sent Matt a wire asking about you. Would’ve done it sooner only the lines’ve been down the last three weeks because of the weather.”

Before Jess could answer him, Daisy came out of the kitchen with a mug of steaming hot chocolate. Clutching it with both hands, Jess sipped gratefully at the hot, sweet liquid. He tasted something much stronger than chocolate, and Daisy met his startled look with baby blue innocence.

“I’ll heat up some supper for you,” she said. “Knowing you I’ll wager you haven’t had a decent meal since you left the Rocking T.”

“Want to talk about it?” Slim asked quietly once they were alone.

Jess rubbed a hand against his aching ribs, and stretched his legs towards the fire. His gaze turned inward and brooding. Slim rested an elbow on the mantle piece, regarding his friend with a mixture of concern and curiosity. Jess knuckled at the sand in his eyes, Daisy’s potent drink was making him drowsy. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs and met Slim’s questioning gaze.

“Tolliver came back,” he said, his voice hollow.

Slim’s easygoing features registered the stunned disbelief he felt. “I thought he was trampled to death in the stampede.”

“Yeah, we all did. Reckon the bodies were too torn and mangled for the sheriff to tell how many had really bought it in the end. Cal turned up at the Rocking T a week ago.”

He paused, a shadow of pain crossing his face as he coughed slightly. Slim caught it, and frowned in concern.

“Jess, you’re all in,” he said. “We can talk later. Why don’t you hit the sack, and I’ll have Doc Collier look in on you in the morning?”

“No!” Jess said sharply. There were things that need to be said, and he’d rather get them off his chest now. In the morning he would be on the first stage, and there would be no more time.

“I’m fine, Slim, just tired’s all.”

“All right, what happened at the Rocking T?”

“Cal was lookin’ to get paid for his troubles,” Jess continued. “He was after the safe again. Grabbed hold of Gimpy, and tried to use him as a shield. I… went after him but I…couldn’t hold him.”

He swallowed. The memory of Gimpy and Matt’s stunned faces an iron band around his heart. With an effort he got to his feet and faced his friend. Slim flinched seeing that the momentary openness was one, replaced by an all too familiar guarded chill.

“There was…a spare gun…in the safe,” Jess said bitterly. “You would’ve been real proud of me, Slim. One shot high in the shoulder, but that wasn’t enough. This time I was goin’ to make damn sure Tolliver stayed dead. Two slugs right over… right over the heart less than an inch between ‘em.”

He laughed, a harsh, brutal sound. Jess turned his back on Slim and walked to stand by the window. He stood for a moment gazing out at the peaceful, snowy landscape. He leaned his forehead against the forgiving coolness of the glass, and closed his eyes to the anguish in his heart. It was next to impossible to keep up a front with Slim, emotionally and physically he had reached the end of his tether.

Slim regarded his friend’s bowed head aching with compassion as he reflected on how much pain and loneliness rested on those shoulders. Wanting only to help he was at a loss how to reach him. ‘Would Jess let his guard down long enough for him to get through to him, or was it already too late?’

“So Tolliver’s dead,” he said. “What about Matt and Gimpy?”

Jess didn’t answer, he remembered the instinctive revulsion in their eyes as they looked from him to Tolliver’s bloody form, lying among broken pieces of precious china; heirlooms from Matt’s gentle mother mingling with the bloodstains of a dead outlaw. He shivered uncontrollably and Slim strode towards him. He grabbed him by the shoulders and swung him around to face him.

“There’s more to this than you’re lettin’ on, Jess. Let’s have the rest of it,” he demanded.

For an instant the guarded mask Jess wore fell away and there was a sheer, naked pleading in his eyes, but it was gone so quickly Slim wondered if he’d imagined it.

“I’d laid enough violence and death at their doorstep, Slim,” Jess said stonily. “I had to leave… you can’t really blame ‘em …”

His voice faltered and Slim bit his lip, understanding all too well what had happened. He recalled he had felt pretty much the same way about Jess in the beginning. The destructive violence that seemed to dog his footsteps frightened people away, made them wary of getting too close to him.

Yet this drifter, this gunfighter with nothing but trouble to his name, had saved his life and his ranch without any thoughts to his own safety. He had put his life on the line, and gone up against Tolliver’s whole gang to give Tyrell and him a fighting chance to get away. Slim thought of the agonizing journey back to the ranch with Jess strapped to the travois, more dead than alive, but stubbornly hanging on. There had to be a way to get through to him.

“No, I reckon not,” he said grimly, deciding it was time to stop mincing words. “But why come back here?”

Jess recoiled at Slim’s sharp, almost angry tone. ‘Why had he come?’ he thought helplessly. There was nothing here for him anymore, Slim had a new partner, and he had lost the chance to make this place something permanent. Now, when he knew that he wanted more than anything to be a part of Slim’s family of unrelated strays it was too late. He tore loose from Slim’s hard grip, an ache in his chest that had nothing to do with half-healed injuries.

“First stage goin’ out was headin’ for Laramie,” he shrugged. “Seemed like a good idea to stop…”

“And now?” Slim shot back.

Jess fought a sense of loss and regret that threatened to choke him. He had come here looking for a reprieve from his past, but he should just have kept on going, all he had succeeded in doing was open up all the hurt again.

“I hear you have taken on a partner, Slim,” he said quietly, leaning against the windowsill.

Slim folded his arms across his chest, a quizzical expression on his face. He nodded slowly, sky blue eyes narrowing.

“Yeah, that’s right, I have. And a dang fool, blind, mule stubborn one at that!”

He strode over to the roll top desk and pulled open a drawer and retrieved a neatly folded piece of paper. After a moment’s hesitation he handed it to Jess. Frowning, Jess took it and cast a quick glance at it. It was a partnership agreement, spelled out in clear, judicial terms, between Slim Sherman and Jess Harper. It bore the day’s date, and was signed by Slim at the bottom. There was a space for Jess’ signature in the right hand corner. Blinded by tears, Jess stared at the paper, his heart so full he thought it must surely break.

“Slim…I…I don’t know what to say,” he whispered hoarsely, clutching the paper in his trembling hand.

“You don’t have to say anything, pard,” Slim grinned. “Just sign it.”

“I can’t,” Jess protested. “Look what happened to Mike… a gunfighter won’t…”

“Hold it right there,” Slim said grimly. “Like it or not, you bought into this ranch when you paid off my loan at the bank. You can’t run away from this one, Jess, that paper’s a straight partnership deal between the two of us. If you won’t accept the responsibility I have no choice but to go and try and borrow the money to pay you back your investment.”

“Investment?” Jess said his voice raw with emotions desperately held in check. “Use you head, Slim, that money wasn’t really mine. It was bounty money for Lou Coulter… I got you into that mess, the money’s as much yours as it is mine!”

Slim merely stared at him, his face set and determined. Jess gestured helplessly towards the kitchen.

“You’re backin’ me into a corner, Slim,” he pleaded. “Think of Mike and Daisy… you saw Mike get caught in the middle of a shootout.” His voice turned hard. “You want that to happen again?”

“Come here, I want to show you something,” Slim said and turned on his heel.

Walking slowly, uncertainly, Jess followed as Slim threw open the door to his own room and stepped aside to let Jess in. A second bunk, covered by a colorful quilt,had been placed next to Slim’s, the two bunks separated by a nightstand. Jess stood rooted to the floor, scarcely daring to breathe as he eyed the big poster tacked to the wall above the bunk. It was a clumsy drawing of a straggly figure on horseback, and underneath it Mike had laboriously printed the words “Welcome home, Jess!”

Clutching the partnership agreement in his hand Jess turned away from Slim and pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes. His shoulders trembled and a wave of fierce protectiveness swept over Slim. He placed his hands on Jess’s shoulders and kneaded gently at the bunched muscles. Jess closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, needing the closeness, the feel of his friend’s strong, warm hands a balm for his brittle nerves.

Slim regarded the bowed head with compassion; he gently turned Jess towards him and placed a knuckle under that stubborn chin to force Jess to face him. Jess looked up at him blue eyes welling with tears; they sparkled in the thick eyelashes and ran down his cheeks.

“Jess,” Slim said gently. “Give yourself a chance. Give us chance. You may not have been aware of it at the time, but you took on part of the responsibility for this ranch when you settled that debt. It’s time you stopped running from the past and faced it instead, pard.”

Jess twisted away from him and sank down on the edge of the bunk. He buried his head in his hands, unable to speak.

“Give it some thought,” Slim said. “I’ll go see how Daisy’s doing with supper.”

He left Jess alone and wandered into the kitchen to find Daisy heaping a plate full of venison stew. She smiled at him, a question in her eyes.

“I don’t know, Daisy,” he shrugged. “Right now he’s too stunned to even think straight. Give him some time to sort it all out.”

“Well, at least I can bring him some supper,” Daisy said. “Where is he?”

“I left him sittin’ on his bunk in our bedroom,” Slim grinned. “Come on, let’s see if he dares say no to you!”

Slim pushed open the door to the bedroom, and Daisy carried in the food tray. She put it down on the nightstand and pushed at her straying, gray curls. Slim put an arm around her shoulder and nodded at the bunk. Jess lay curled up on his side, fast asleep, his face tearstained; the partnership agreement Slim had given him still clutched in his hand. They stood quietly for a moment, gazing down at him.

Daisy found herself wanting to stand guard over him, to make sure nothing could ever reach out to hurt him again. He seemed so vulnerable lying there, sleep wiping away the lines of pain and exhaustion. She took the blanket Slim handed her and draped it over the sleeping form. Slim bent down and removed the piece of paper from Jess’ fingers. He smoothed it out and glanced at it. A broad grin split his face.

“Take a look, Daisy,” he said keeping his voice low so as not to wake Jess.

At the bottom of the page, in the place indicated, Jess had scrawled his name and today’s date. Daisy wiped at a few traitorous tears trickling down her faces, and smoothed her apron.

“I was right, Slim,” she whispered. “He has come home to stay.”

“Well, that remains to be seen,” Slim cautioned. “But at least he’s decided to give it a try, and that’s a start. With a little pushing we might just turn this renegade into a rancher after all.”

They quietly left the room, and Jess slept on, a dreamless healing sleep, his wounded spirit at peace.

He was home.

The End

e swaHeH

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