CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“Harper just went into the sheriff’s office, Pa,” Johnny Tyrell said, looking out the window of their hotel room.

His father put aside the newspaper he had been glancing through, and got up. He straightened his vest, and brushed a hand over his smooth, grey hair.

“What would our saddletramp friend be doing talking to the law?” he wondered, resting a hand on his son’s shoulder.

Johnny shrugged. “Listen, Pa, how long we gonna sit here, twiddlin’ our thumbs? It’s time you and me did something about him. Matt sure’s shootin’ don’t want any part of this.”

Tyrell lit a cigar and regarded his son thoughtfully through a haze of smoke. He saw the impatience in his fierce eyes, and in the thin mouth, twisted into an ugly grimace. He was so like Billy sometimes, he thought sadly. Impetuous and combative. Matt, now, he was entirely different. Took after his gentle mother in that way, serious and into book learning. It hadn’t escaped Hurd Tyrell that his oldest son disapproved of their quest for vengeance, and the realization filled him with disdain. That his own flesh and blood should turn his back on his family, and not care that his youngest brother had been gunned down by a murdering scoundrel. Tyrell drew furiously on the cigar; his son was right, it was time to make a move. He needed to talk to the two ranch hands he had sent for.

“Hold the fort, Johnny,” he said sharply, and shrugged into his coat. “I’m riding out to talk to Anderson and Vasquez.”

“What do we need them for?” Johnny grunted. “I can handle Harper with one hand tied behind my back, Pa.”

“I don’t doubt that, son.” Tyrell smiled briefly. “They’re just added insurance. I think Harper may be getting ready to pull out, and I want to be ready when he does.”

“I swear, Pa, your mind’s got more twists’n turns to it than rattler,” Johnny said, shaking his head.

“And I’m just as deadly,” his father said and left the room.

*****

Daisy and Mike came out of the general store, Mike clutching a small package.

“You think Jess’ll like the bandana I got him?” he asked as they crossed the street to the bank.

Daisy wanted to take out some extra cash to get Slim a new pair of gloves. He had torn his last good pair on some barbed wire a few days ago. As they stepped onto the sidewalk, they almost ran into Jess.

“Jess!” Mike exclaimed and threw his arms around him.

“Hey there, Tiger,” Jess laughed and hugged the boy. “What’re you doin’ in town?”

He looked up and saw Daisy, and his eyes narrowed.

“Everythin’ all right at the ranch, Daisy?”

“Just fine, Jess,” she smiled. “Slim told us what happened with the holdup. We were worried about you.” She put a hand on his arm.

“I’m fine, Daisy,” he assured her.

Jess let go of Mike and gently pushed him aside. He looked down into those eager eyes, and felt his resolve crumble. If only he hadn’t run into them, it would have been a little easier; he was fonder of these two than he cared to admit. He cleared his throat uncertainly.

“Daisy, Mike, it’s great to see you, but I’m kinda pressed for time. Got some loose ends to tie up before catchin’ the stage.”

“Where…where are you going, Jess?” Mike asked his eyes wide.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jess shrugged. “California, maybe. Laramie’s too small for me, Tiger, not enough action to hold me here any longer.”

“Does that mean you won’t be comin’ back to the ranch with us?” Mike’s voice was very small, and his eyes suspiciously bright.

Jess felt his throat tighten, and swallowed hard against the lump that was building there. His heart broke at the sight of that sad little face.

“Jess, you can’t be serious?” Daisy began, but Jess cut her off.

“I won’t be comin’ back,” he said brusquely. “I can’t tie myself down to ranchin’; I’ve been a drifter too long, Daisy. I need the big open. It’s time to move on.”

Daisy caught a glimpse of his face as he turned away from them and stepped into the street. He looked stricken, the hurt in his eyes open and unguarded. She put a hand out to stop him, and then let it fall. It was his decision, and she could only guess at what it had cost him. She had to talk to Slim; they couldn’t just let him ride out like this, back to a life of drifting from one town to the next, always looking over his shoulder. Her heart went out to him, he seemed so alone and vulnerable as he walked away.

“Aunt Daisy, is he really leaving for good?” Mike asked plaintively, tugging at her hand.

“Maybe he thinks so, Mike, but we’re going to try and change that. But let’s get our errands done first, shall we?”

Across the street, Johnny Tyrell leaned against the hitching rail in front of the hotel, seeing what had just transpired. ‘They must be the folks from the Sherman ranch’, he thought, nibbling on his thumbnail. Damn his father and his roundabout methods! They’d been cooped up in this town long enough, without making a move. His brother’s killer was still walking around free and clear, and the holdup scheme had backfired on them completely. They had lost two good men there. If it were up to him he’d cut Harper down and be done with it.

Johnny straightened up slowly. Hell, here was his chance. His father and Matt were out of town, there was nothing to hold him back. He could always claim Harper came gunning for him. His triggerfinger fairly itched at the thought. Keeping an eye on Harper he carefully slid his revolver out of the holster and checked it. Satisfied, he stepped away from the rail, his pulse quickening.

“Harper!”

Jess whirled and stopped short when he saw who it was. He was aware of a curious sense of relief; no more wondering where and when, the young man facing him had made the decision for him. Jess stood relaxed, his right hand brushed the holster as he slipped the thong. He knew he could beat Johnny Tyrell, but just how fast was the kid? Would there be enough margin to wing him, or would another Tyrell lie dead at his feet? A caustic smile tugged at his lips. It was a measure of Slim and Daisy’s influence that he was even considering taking the chance.

“Johnny Tyrell,” he said evenly. “What do you want?”

“You know what I want, Harper,” Johnny snarled. “Did you think two years in prison was gonna get you off the hook? Did you think the Tyrell’s would let you get away with murderin’ one of their own?”

“No, I reckon not,” Jess said. “Don’t be a fool, kid. You think you’re a better man with a gun than your brother was? Or Lou Coulter?”

“I ain’t no kid!” Johnny shouted furiously. “Billy was, though, and you had no second thoughts about drawin’ on him, a seventeen year old boy who was blind drunk and didn’t know what he was doin’!”

“He knew. And he wasn’t drunk. You strap on a gun you have to be man enough to stand behind it if you’re called.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Johnny saw the town folks rapidly clearing the street to get out of the line of fire. As long as no one went for the sheriff, the whole business would be over and done with in a few seconds. He licked his lips, and drew a deep breath.

“Talkin’s done, Harper,” he yelled. “I’m gonna kill you!”

As Jess’ hand flashed down to his weapon, he suddenly saw Mike come running out of the bank, and straight into the line of fire.

“Jess! Jess! I forgot to give you your present…” Mike yelled, and then there was only the sound of gunfire, and before Jess’ disbelieving eyes the boy slewed around and collapsed.

“Damn you, Tyrell!” Jess cried, running forward. He fired as he ran and Johnny, who’d stopped in momentary confusion, staggered back. With a howl of pain and surprise he brought his gun up again, and squeezed off a shot as Jess headed for Mike.

Jess felt the bullet slam into his left side with force of a sledgehammer, and he stumbled and went down on one knee. With a grimace of pain and rage, he fanned the hammer and Johnny tumbled sideways and then back as the shots struck him.

White faced and with tears burning in his eyes, Jess fired until the hammer clicked on an empty chamber. The slugs took Johnny solidly in the chest, and he weaved for a moment, incredibly still on his feet. Then, with a horrible croaking sound, he slowly folded in on himself and crumpled to the ground.

Wasting no time on him, Jess shoved his gun back in its holster, and pushed himself to his feet. He staggered over to where Mike lay, and knelt by him, his heart in his throat. There was the nightmarish roar of death in his ears as he gently gathered the boy into his arms. How small and light his burden was, like a bird with broken wings. He gazed in despair at the bloodstained shirtfront; his heart hurt.

“Easy now, Tiger,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

Jess straightened up with an effort, cradling his precious burden. He saw Daisy come running out of the bank, and her hands went to her face when she saw them. From down the street Mort Corey rushed towards them, rifle in hand. ‘Too late,’ Jess thought numbly as he held the boy, ‘all of them, too late.’

Daisy saw the devastated look on his face, and wavered. The savagery in his eyes, mingled with numbing grief, struck her with almost physical force, and she felt faint.

“Oh God, Jess, what happened? Mike ran off to give you a present he’d got for you and…”

“Not now, Daisy,” Jess said, his voice hoarse. “I’ve got to get him over to the Doc.”

He brushed past Corey, the sheriff silently moving out of his way. One look at Jess’ face was enough; explanations would have to wait. Mort Corey bent over Johnny Tyrell’s bullet riddled body, nothing to be done for him except bury him.

He looked up as he heard riders come tearing down the street, and Mort recognized Slim. He didn’t know the other one.

“Johnny!” Matt cried and leapt from his horse. He ran over to his brother’s body. “My God! Johnny!”

He lifted his brother’s head gently, and gazed in anguished disbelief at the young face, its features contorted by violent death.

“Who’re you, son?” Corey asked sharply.

“He’s Johnny Tyrell’s brother,” Slid said. “Mort…what happened?”

“I haven’t got all the details yet,” Corey sighed, “But from what I gather, Matt, your brother braced Jess Harper, and they shot it out.”

“Is Jess all right?” Slim asked swiftly.

“Oh, he’s fine. That fast draw of his is getting’ plenty of practice, it seems, only this time I’m afraid it…”

“Did it take five bullets to kill Johnny?” Matt asked bitterly, easing his brother’s head back down. He stood up and faced the sheriff.

“Well, Jess went kinda crazy when you brother shot hit Mike,” Corey replied.

Slim paled, and his hand shot out to grab the sheriff’s arm.

“You saying Mike’s been shot?” he demanded.

“Easy, Slim,” Corey said gently. “He got caught between them somehow. I don’t know how bad it is. Jess carried him over to Doc Collier’s. Mrs. Cooper is with them.”

Slim ran for the doctor’s office, his heart racing. Flashes of Mike’s laughing face and inquisitive eyes almost blinded him, and a sob caught in his throat. The thought pounded through his head that if he hadn’t let Jess stay on there would have been no blood spilled, and Mike would not have been caught in a deadly crossfire. Knowing that the Tyrell’s were after Jess he should have realized that it could only end with innocent people getting hurt.

Matt stared after him, and then looked at the sheriff.

“You sure it was my brother’s shot that hit the kid?” he asked, his voice tight.

“Yeah, looks that way,” Corey said. “Jess held his fire when Mike ran between them, but your brother was out for blood…he didn’t mean to hit the boy, but Mike went down, and Jess, well, he just emptied his gun. I’m sorry, son.”

“First Billy, and now Johnny,” Matt said sadly looking at his brother’s bloodstained body. “Where does it all end?”

Slim slammed open the door to Doc Collier’s office, and ran into the infirmary. His heart wrenched at the scene that met him. Mike’ still, slight figure lay on the operating table, and the doctor was in the process of cutting away his shirt. Daisy was by his side, her face streaked with tears, but ready to assist if the doctor should need it. Slim looked around wildly, and saw Jess standing by the window, his head bowed.

“Doc?” Slim asked apprehensively.

“I don’t know yet,” Doc Collier muttered. He had discarded his jacket, and rolled up his shirtsleeves. “I just got him in here.”

At the sound of Slim’s voice, Jess lifted his head and slowly turned to face him.

“Slim,” he said unsteadily, and came towards him. “He…he just ran right into it…if I…if I…”

Torn with fear for Mike’s life, Slim swung with blind anger on the man he saw as the cause of it all.

“Look at him!” he shouted. “Take a good look! Are you satisfied? The bullet he stopped was meant for you…that should be you lyin’ there, Jess!”

“Don’t you…think…I know that. Slim, for God’s sake…”

“If you two are going to argue, take it outside,” Collier snapped. “Mrs. Cooper, hold his arms, will you?”

Daisy wiped the tears off her cheeks and did as the doctor asked. She was only vaguely aware of Slim and Jess, all she could focus on was Mike’s still, pale face.

“Outside!” Slim snarled. He grabbed Jess’ arm and pushed him out of the infirmary, pulling the door shut behind them.

Jess stumbled dazedly into the outer office. If Slim hadn’t been so blinded by a mind-numbing concern for Mike, he would have noticed how pale and drawn Jess was, and that he held his right hand pressed tightly against his left side. As it was, all he could see was Mike’s unconscious form, and the doctor’s grave face bending over him.

Jess tore himself loose from Slim’s grasp, gritting his teeth against the pain that stabbed through him. Slim’s face was a mask of tense, dark anger.

“You couldn’t wait and let the law handle it,” Slim grated. “Your damn fast gun had to settle it all.”

“You can’t believe I deliberately went after Tyrell,” Jess protested, Slim’s word cutting into him like a sharp knife. “Slim, you gotta listen to…”

Slim felt his temper snap, swift and uncontrollable. His hand came up, and he backhanded Jess across the face, sending him crashing back against the wall. Jess staggered, and felt his knees give way. Slim came after him, and he saw another blow coming. Suddenly, he didn’t care anymore; the pain was almost a relief, assuaging some of the terrible guilt he felt about Mike. He dropped his hands, and the blow made his head ring.

“Fight me, damn you!” Slim shouted and shook him violently. “Your itchy triggerfinger may have killed Mike! Try it with your fists for a change!”

He shoved Jess away, and stepped back, waiting. Jess blinked, and raised a shaking hand to wipe at the blood that trickled from his cut lip.

“I…won’t…fight you, Slim,” he whispered, the pain in his side tearing through him with every breath.

“Then pick up your gear and clear out,” Slim snarled. “Before you get someone else killed!”

Choking on his rage, he hurried back into the infirmary. Jess swallowed a groan, and steadied himself against the wall. He was completely drained of all emotion save a despair and guilt that threatened to bring him to his knees. The door slammed behind Slim, and he flinched involuntarily; it was as if it slammed on his whole life. Jess drew a shuddering breath. The bullet had hit low, and there was no exit wound. It bled some, but his black vest covered the wound.

He stared at the closed door, aching to know how Mike was doing. If the boy died, how would he ever be able to live with himself?

ooo0ooo

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Completely numb inside, Jess made his way down Front Street towards the bank. He had one more thing to do before he left Laramie. He walked slowly, uncertainly, each step hurting a little more than the last. He looked up as a young man blocked his path, and recognized Matt Tyrell from his trial two years ago.

Jess’ hand moved to gun, and then he remembered that he hadn’t reloaded since the shootout with Johnny.

“Matt Tyrell,” he said infinite weariness in his voice. “You aimin’ to finish what your brother started?”

Matt gazed at the man’s tired, strained face, and flinched at the lines of pain and fatigue. ‘We did this to him,’ he thought. ‘If Pa wanted to make him suffer before he killed him he’s succeeded admirably.’

“No, no, I’m not,” he said. “For what it’s worth, I never wanted any part of this, Jess. If it hadn’t been you, it would have been someone else, sooner or later. Just as it was with Billy.”

Jess took a deep breath, taken aback by Tyrell’s words. It struck him as ironic that it was a Tyrell who was willing to see his side of what had happened. A wry smile touched his lips briefly.

“And what about your father?” he drawled. “Will he feel the same way when he finds out?”

Matt shook his head sadly.

“Nothing will change his mind. Certainly not now that Johnny’s dead. I’m sorry… there’s nothing I can do about it. If I were you I’d put as much distance between myself and Laramie as possible.”

“I aim to do just that,” Jess murmured. “I just have to pick up my gear. I’m…I’m sorry about your brother, Matt.”

“It wasn’t your fault, try to believe that.”

“Wasn’t it?” Jess’ voice was bitter.

Matt Tyrell stood for a moment, gazing after him, filled with a sudden pity for the man who had been the cause of so much grief in his family.

*****

Jeremy Clayton eyed the man across from him with amazement written all over his features. Jess supported himself against the banker’s desk. He was gray-faced with pain, and it took all his willpower just to stay on his feet.

“You want to do what?” the bank manager asked, disbelief in his voice.

“You heard me, Clayton,” Jess said. “The authorization’s right there, it’s got Sheriff Corey’s signature on it. If you don’t believe me check with him.”

“It’s not that I don’t believe you,” Clayton said, bewildered. “I recognize the sheriff’s signature, of course, but it’s a lot of money…four thousand eight hundred dollars…you sure you want to do this?”

“Sure I’m sure.” Jess was tired. He wanted to get it over and done with so he could be on his way. His head was reeling, and Clayton’s face blurred. He blinked to clear his vision, and the room faded into focus again. The bank manager frowned at him.

“You all right, Harper?”

“Never felt better,” Jess grated, his mouth bracketed by pain. “Now, will you do it?”

“Very well then,” Clayton sighed. “I don’t mind telling you, it’s a load of my mind. Slim Sherman’s a good friend, and I wasn’t looking forward to telling him the bank wouldn’t be able to renew his note.”

He made some notes on the document before him, stamped it “paid in full,” and added his signature to it.

”If you’ll just sign there,” he said and pushed it across his desk towards Jess. “You’ve got some change coming.” Clayton opened a drawer in his desk, and pulled out a small metal box. He counted out two hundred dollars and handed it to Jess.

Jess extended his hand and blood dripped onto the desk from his soaked shirtsleeve. Jeremy Clayton jumped to his feet, and came around the desk.

“You’re hurt!” he exclaimed, “here, sit down, I’ll send one of my people for the doctor!”

“No!” Jess said tersely. “I’m all right. It’s…it’s just a scratch.”

He wiped the blood off his hand on his pant leg. Silently, Clayton handed him a pen, and Jess scrawled his name next to the bank manager’s signature.

“Hurd Tyrell got to you too, didn’t he?” Jess said. “Does he own the whole town?”

“He’s a major shareholder in this bank,” Clayton shrugged, “threatened to pull all his holdings out. It’s more than we can handle, it would have created a run, perhaps closed us down.”

He made out a receipt and gave it to Jess. “How’d you know Tyrell was in back of this?”

“Just a wild guess,” Jess said. His eyes were cold.

He folded the receipt with care, and shoved it in his shirt pocket. He sagged forward suddenly, and grabbed the back of a chair for support. Clayton stared at him with deep concern. The man was out on his feet, he realized, as Jess closed his eyes for a second, sweat beading his forehead.

“Jess, will you let me fetch the doctor? Man, you can barely stand up!”

Jess pulled himself up with an effort, and gave him a hollow smile.

“Just…a…little dizzy,” he said. “I’ll be all right. One thing, though, I want your word you won’t…you won’t say anything to Slim about this.”

“He’ll find out as soon as he comes in to get an extension on his note,” Clayton pointed out swiftly.

“When’s that?”

“Oh, in about two months time,” Clayton answered.

“Two months,” Jess said slowly. “That’ll be plenty.”

“I guess you’ll be staying in Laramie then,” Clayton ventured, fingering the gold chain on his vest pocket. “I mean, that’s a sizeable investment you just made in the Sherman ranch.”

“I won’t be stayin’,” Jess shook his head. “It’s time I put some distance between Laramie and my…my problems.”

He flinched as knife sharp pain lanced through him. Clayton frowned at the lean, hard face, seeing the man struggling to hide how much he was really hurting.

“I’ve heard all the stories about you, Jess,” he said quietly. “I guess you’ve had more than your share of troubles, but what you’ve just done for Slim…well, it makes you an honorable man in my book, and for what it’s worth, I’d be proud to call you my friend.”

Jess gazed at the older man; saw the honesty and integrity in him, along with a genuine concern for his well-being. He swallowed, and rubbed a hand across his cracked lip, grimacing involuntarily.

“It’s worth a lot, Clayton,” he said, his voice strained. “Thanks.”

Keeping his hand tucked under his vest against the hole in his side, he walked slowly out of the office. The bank manager watched him go, shaking his head at the folly of it all. The people in the bank turned and eyed the man curiously, some a little fearfully. Jess shut his mind to their stares, and concentrated on getting out of the building before he passed out. He stumbled once and almost fell. Two ladies passing by snorted disdainfully, saying how disgraceful it was to see a man drunk so early in the day. Jess’ lips twitched in a wry grin; he took a deep breath and continued on.

“Hey, Jess!” Nate Jenks said. “Heard about the shootin’…is Mike all right?”

Jess’ blue eyes were almost black with pain, and Jenks caught his breath.

“Jess?”

“I don’t know, Note,” Jess said hoarsely, “Doc was…workin’ on him…I just don’t know.”

His voice trailed off, and he staggered. The livery owner took an alarmed step towards him, and caught his arm.

“Say, you don’t look so good, son. Here, set yerself down.”

Jess sagged down on an empty crate and leaned forward, trying to breathe evenly against the fire in his side.

“Saddle Buck for me, will you, Nate?” he whispered.

“From the looks of you, you’re in no shape to go anywhere,” Jenks protested. “Where you hurtin’, boy?”

Jess shook his head. “I’m just tired, Nate. Hurry up, will ya.”

Scratching his shaggy head and muttering to himself, Nate Jenks went to saddle the big buckskin. Jess reloaded his gun with shaking hands. He dropped a couple of cartridges and, swearing, bent to retrieve them. Nate led the buckskin over to him, and fetched up short when he saw the blood dripping from Jess’ hand.

“Of all the mule-headed…why didn’t you say you’d been shot?” he growled and bent over the dark haired man. “Let’s have a look!”

“I’m fine, Nate,” Jess snapped. “Don’t worry none about it, it’s just a graze, looks worse’n it is.”

Jenks extended a hand and pulled him to his feet, keeping a steadying hand on him.

“You’re bleedin’ like stuck pig,” he stated. “Don’t look like no graze to me. You’d better see the doc, Jess.”

Jess ignored him and eased himself into the saddle. His whole body screamed in protest at the abuse he was heaping on it, and Nate Jenks’ kindly, leathery face wavered into a gray mist.

“I gotta go, Nate. Thanks for bein’ a friend.”

He shook the reins and nudged the big horse into a gentle lope. He used the side alley to get out of town, not wanting to run into the sheriff and more questions. He wasn’t sure how long he could stay on his feet, and he needed running room between himself and Hurd Tyrell’s vengeance. The thought of Mike, lying unconscious and bleeding in his arms was like a vice around his heart, and tears stung his eyes as he rode.

He turned a bend in the road, and as Laramie faded behind him he urged the buckskin into a run.

ooo0ooo

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

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Part Eight