I've hesitated about uploading this story as it is a bit of a linguistic risk on my part, but it took time to write, so here goes! It comes with a warning: some of the dialogue is in French and Spanish (should be Mexican Spanish, but I'm more familiar with European). Before you curse me or rush to Google Translate, many words are the same in all three language and most of the meaning is reflected in the English that surrounds it. Where this is not so, I've put a translation in the notes at the end of each chapter. But the story can be followed without necessarily translating every word and it might be fun to fill in your own interpretation and then see if you are right.

And why do the characters use three languages? Well, you know what characters are – sometimes they just do what they please! Including ending up with an epilogue I certainly had not planned at the beginning.

In this one, Jess's climbing and rescue techniques have improved a bit from his hair-raising performance in Two for the Gallows.

Sign in or email if you'd like a reply to comments. If you're a French or Spanish speaker, idiomatic corrections appreciated by email please.

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A List and Three Black Eyes

Jantallian

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Dawn – Day 5

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"Jess, are we gonna be killed?"

Jess sat bolt upright in an instant, his gun seeming automatically to leap into his hand of its own accord. At the same time his eyes snapped open, scanning the bunk-room for sinister figures and his ears were straining for the sounds of attack outside in the yard.

It was not the way anyone wanted to be woken in the chilly half-light of pre-dawn.

He could see nothing but a worried looking Andy, leaning against the bunk, clutching an outsize mug of coffee to his heart. Gradually his own heart stopped pounding and the adrenaline-fuelled responses relaxed, as he focused his attention on the boy. He shoved the gun back in the holster hanging from the corner of his bunk.

"Not immediately, Tiger," he responded reassuringly, "or at least, I'm not, but your days might be numbered if you don't hand over that coffee right now!" He didn't say that Andy had been within a hair's breadth of really being shot, but, as the mug was thrust into his hands, added seriously, "You should be careful how you wake a man who sleeps with a gun."

"Sorry, Jess - Slim warned me about that but I forgot."

"It's forgettin' things that get you killed, Tiger," Jess reminded him gently. "Now come on up here and tell me what this is all about."

Andy scrambled up onto the other end of the bunk and Jess tossed him one of his blankets because, despite being fully dressed, Andy was shivering. Jess took an appreciative gulp of the coffee: it was hot, black and so strong it would probably have dissolved metal had anyone been unwise enough to attempt to stir it. He was inwardly much amused that Andy had had the forethought and common sense to take this sensible precaution before waking him up.

"This is real good," he complimented with a smile, "but it don't let you off the penalty for wakin' me up too soon and scarin' me half out my wits!" He looked closely at his young friend and, knowing the Sherman family traits quite well by now, asked "You been up all night worryin', Andy?"

Andy shook his head. "I woke up and my face was sore, so I got up and looked in the mirror."

Jess dumped his empty mug, reached out and turned Andy's face so that the left side was more visible in the dim light. He just restrained himself from swearing aloud. Andy was sporting the makings of a fine black eye, along with a number of sore-looking scratches.

"And then I thought," Andy continued, his voice shaking just a little, "they're due back today and we're gonna get killed!" His face screwed up into a grimace which was a cross between fear and anger.

Jess pulled him into a bear-hug. "I'm gonna get killed, not you," he said in what he hoped were calming tones.

"That's not fair!" Andy protested. "We were in it together."

"Yeah, partner, but I doubt if Slim is gonna see it that way! Besides, he ain't gonna kill you, you're the only brother he's got."

"It's not your fault," Andy protested, "and you're goin' to get all the blame."

This was no more than the truth. Jess said firmly, "It's my responsibility - he left me in charge and to take care of you."

"But you did, Jess, you know you did! It just doesn't look that way."

"Not lookin' at your face, it doesn't," Jess told him with a grin. "Now give over, Tiger. Nothin' ever got solved by worryin' about it – leastways, not until it happens."

"I ain't gonna let Slim kill you!" Andy said vehemently, but despite his bravado, Jess could feel him still shaking.

"Andy, think! Do you really believe Slim has a chance in hell of doin' that?"

Andy considered for a moment and then said worriedly, "I know you can beat him with a gun but – "

"And you really think I'd use a gun on Slim?"

"No, of course not! But if it comes to a fist fight – "

"If it comes to that, I'll just have to take my chance," Jess told him philosophically. "We're usually about even. Besides, you know your brother's got a strong sense of justice - maybe he'll listen."

But more than likely he'll just want to beat the tar out of me anyway, he thought, quite accurately, as it happened. "Now, since we are up before dawn, maybe we can catch up on yesterday's work!" He swung out of the bunk, reaching absently for the bedraggled shirt in the pile of clothes on the floor as he did so. "How come you're up and dressed so early, anyway?"

"Well, you always say work's a cure for worrying," Andy told him seriously, "so I thought maybe I should make a start on the kitchen –"

"Uh-oh! Bad, is it?" Jess rapidly finished pulling on the rest of his battered-looking clothes.

Andy nodded. "You sure can see what we were doin'. But I did my best."

Jess ruffled his hair affectionately. "I bet you did, partner, but next time you start worryin', you come to me first, without the tidyin'!"

"Sure, but I had to tidy a bit to get the coffee on - and no-one's gonna risk waking you, Jess, without getting the coffee goin' first! Least, not if they want to keep their head on their shoulders."

"I do not tear people's heads off without due warnin'," Jess retorted, "it ain't polite. Now c'm on and help me find that list!"

He hauled Andy unceremoniously off the bunk and gave him a shove in the direction of the living room. When Slim had left four days ago on urgent and complicated business in Cheyenne, taking with him the faithful and reliable influence of Jonesy, who needed treatment for his back again, he had left a comprehensive list of instructions which he expected Jess and Andy to carry out in his absence. Things might have turned out differently if he had also included a list of what they were not to do, such as target shooting, rough riding, racing, sleeping out, going fishing, cliff climbing, fighting and practising alternative medicine, but unfortunately he had omitted this elementary precaution, with the result that he would later be laying into Jess for precisely these activities and more. In all fairness to Jess, however, list or no list, he did not, as the circumstances developed, have very many options in what he actually chose to do. It would be some time before Slim discovered this.

Meanwhile the pair were faced with a living room which looked exactly as one might have expected after Jess had knocked down and ejected the Patterson twins. 'Keep the place tidy,' might have been on Slim's list, but it had got somewhat overlooked in the action. Jess groaned as he surveyed the disarray caused by the struggle. When you were looking for a piece of paper, having crashed into the bookshelves and swept everything off the top of the desk did not create ideal conditions.

"Think, Tiger, what did we do with it?" he pleaded.

Andy was quick to point out that he hadn't done anything with the list. "You screwed it up and threw it away, Jess, when you said we'd earned some fishing."

"I did? Where?"

"Well, I think you were aiming for the fire."

Jess gave another heartfelt groan. "We lit the fire last night!"

"It's a good thing you're such a rotten shot!" Andy pounced triumphantly on a crumpled ball tucked behind the fender.

"You cheeky varmint!" Jess grabbed him in a headlock and proceeded to tickle him. "Give me that!"

"Hush!" Andy reminded him, choking with suppressed laughter. "You'll wake our guests!"

Jess laughed too and let him go. "Let's get on with it then. We'll leave them to sleep in until we've done somethin' about this." He began haphazardly piling books back on to the shelves. Anticipating the probable effect on his elder brother of this cavalier treatment of his beloved library, Andy took the books firmly out of Jess's hands and began restoring them to their proper order. "Honestly, Jess, you don't know one end of the alphabet from the other!"

"You reckon it matters?"

"It matters to Slim!"

"Okay, you fix it then. I'll have a look at the kitchen." As he went out into the little kitchen, Jess gave a further miserable groan. "I thought you said you'd tidied this, Andy?"

"I tidied the coffee pot and the top of the stove, after I got it going."

"Yeah, I can see that. It's the only clean bit." The kitchen appeared to have suffered redecoration using large quantities of a peculiar green sludge with a faintly medicinal smell. A saucepan of this was balanced on the edge of the sink, which was also full of two days' washing up. Jess filled the kettle and slapped it down irritably on the stove, causing water to slop everywhere and a gush of steam to hit him in the face. He swore under his breath. The mere sight of the washing up was getting to him already. He shifted the saucepan of green gunk back on to the stove too, when a thought struck him. "Andy, get in here."

When the boy appeared, Jess seized him by the hair, tilted his head back and applied a generous handful of the mysterious sludge to his cuts and bruises.

"Ow! Jess, what are you doin' that for? That stuff stinks!"

"But it's good for healin', remember? That's why we made it. Anythin' to get you lookin' better before Slim gets home!"

"Yeah!" Andy rubbed the stuff in more enthusiastically. "Bet Jonesy's gonna be mad at you, though - he thinks he's the expert at doctoring around here."

"He is," Jess admitted with feeling. "And who's goin' to need serious doctorin' when he sees the state of his kitchen?" He began to attempt to clear the sink, his impatience resulting in an avalanche of dirty crockery and a broken plate.

Andy sighed and, waving the list under his nose, sternly reprimanded him, "Jess, you just ain't domesticated! Leave it be. I'll do this and you get on with the outside chores. There's enough on this list to keep you occupied for hours."

"You sure, Tiger?"

"Anything's better than Slim docking us for broken crockery," Andy told him firmly.

"I owe you!" Jess gave him an affectionate punch on the arm and headed for the back door.

"In that case," Andy called after him shrewdly, "you're cooking the breakfast!"

An hour or so later, they were sitting side by side at the table, with the remains of a substantial breakfast around them and the list between them. Jess was muttering under his breath and rapidly ticking off tasks. Andy was cleaning one of the hand-guns they'd used for target practice, with the result that liberal amounts of oil were mingling with the breadcrumbs. He looked sideways at the list and said admiringly, "Have you really done all that?"

"I've done it," Jess agreed, "but I ain't sayin' I've done it to perfection. And there's still all this stuff to catch up with." He stared at the list gloomily.

"Well, we did miss nearly a whole day," Andy reminded him, thinking of the events of the previous twenty four hours.

"So, are you goin' to explain why to Slim, or am I?"

"But we've got evidence, haven't we?" Andy pointed to the door of the small guest bedroom.

"That depends on whether he can understand what they're sayin', so we'd better wake them up and make sure they know what they're supposed to be tellin' him!"

"And we'd better offer them some breakfast – I wouldn't agree to anything on an empty stomach," Andy pointed out.

"I'll get some more coffee goin'." Jess began hastily to clear away the debris from their breakfast, while Andy found clean things to re-lay two places at the table. It might have been thought, from their actions, that they were both rather wary of actually knocking on or opening the bedroom door. Eventually, it came to the point when they were definitely looking at each other and hesitating.

"Better be you, Andy – after all, you are the host," Jess told him.

"No, you – you speak the language."

"Only a word or two!"

"Jess, you're trying to duck out of this!"

"Well, if I am, you may recall there's good reason." Jess was thinking back to certain actions of his on the previous night. "It'd better be you – you're smaller and less threatenin'."

Andy also recalled Jess's rather direct way of dealing with certain situations which had arisen. "All right. But you owe me again!" He braced himself, marched over to the door, knocked and, when there was no response, knocked again. He waited and then cautiously opened the door and edged into the room.

A moment later, he flew out again. "Jess! They're gone!"

If it was possible for someone so tanned, it appeared Jess had turned white. "What d'you mean, gone?"

"I mean gone – not there – there's no-one in the room!"

Jess brushed past him and surveyed the empty bedroom. "Oh, no – not again!" he growled in tones of deepest resignation. "And that was our last chance of explainin'."

They stared at each other in consternation. Their only alibi had flown.