Thanks to Lila Leight for pointing out the errors I missed! I hope this looks a little better!
If No One Cares Anyway
Chapter 1
The clip-clonk of the bay horse's shod feet lazily moving forward seemed magnified to the ears of the young rider clinging to his back, swaying with each step the horse took.
The young man was slumped over his horse's neck, his hands gripping the mane tightly. As the bay came to a fork in the rode he stopped, unsure of which path his rider would have him to take.
With an effort, the young man lifted his head. His deep blue eyes sluggishly searching for what ever had caused his horse to stop. Seeing the fork, he used his legs to weakly guide the horse to the right, Baxter Ridge, as the sign read.
The horse cautiously stepped forward, stopping when he felt his rider sway dangerously. The rider grimaced and clutched his left shoulder, the left side of his shirt and the makeshift bandage were soaked with blood. After a few moments with his eyes squeezed shut, he opened them and patted his horse's neck.
"Good boy, Trav. We gotta keep moving," he said softly, urging his horse forward once more, the bay obediently moved down the trail with care to not jostle his rider.
His throat was parched, as he had emptied his canteen of the last of its water this morning, and judging by the position of the sun that was about eight hours ago.
Beads of sweat accumulated on his forehead, the back of his shirt was also soaked as the hot Wyoming summer sun beat down on him, making his already raging fever ten times worse.
It was a miracle that he was still in the saddle, what with all the blood loss and lack of water. Really the only thing keeping him up there was his extreme stubbornness and his horses care not to move to quickly.
As his horse plodded along the rider thought back on the incident which had put him in this position.
He was sitting in the bar, at the corner table where he could watch everyone and no one could get behind him.
"What'ca doin' in a joint like this, kid?" Her voice was husky and had a hint of humor in it as she sat down at his table.
"Ma'am, I ain't been a kid in quite a few years," he answered in his gravelly Texan draw.
"And just how old are ya, mister not a kid?" She smiled with amusement.
"I'll be sixteen in June," he told her as he nursed his beer.
"Well if I can't call ya kid, what do ya go by?"
"Harper, Jess Harper," he waited for her reaction.
"You're Jess Harper?" He nodded, "Well, I'll be dog, kid! You're not at all like they say!" She looked him over.
"And just how is it they make me out to be?" He quirked his eyebrow at her.
"As some big, bad, ruthless killer," she answered him.
"And you don't think I look like a killer?" He took another sip of his beer.
"There's no way you could be a killer, kid." She flashed him a smile.
Before he could say anything someone called for a refill, "I'll be back, it's nice to meet ya kid, I'm Molly, by the way." she she smiled as she stood and walked away, her revealing dress swishing as she walked.
Jess tensed as he saw someone walk through the door. The man looked to be in his late twenties, he was dressed in the usual range garb, all except his low hanging gun belt. The gun had expensive ivory handles, the belt was expensively tooled with a large silver buckle.
As the man scanned the room his eyes landed on Jess, "Harper!" He barked, the whole saloon fell silent "I'm callin' you Harper, you hear me?"
"I hear ya," Jess drew slowly.
Jess' laid back front ticked the man off, "what's wrong with you, Harper?!" He raged, "I just challenged you to a gun fight! Why are you just settin' there?"
Jess flashed the man a bright smile, "oh, well you see I'm giving you a chance to back out before you get yourself killed," he explained.
"Ha! Ain't no way I'm backin' out Harper! If I didn't know any better I'd think you were afraid to fight me," the man taunted.
Jess stood slowly, pushing his chair back under the table and acting as if he could care less about this whole thing, while he had kept his hand hovering over the butt of his gun since the man had walked in.
He strutted up to he man, noticing Molly's concerned look out of the corner of his eye.
"After you," Jess motioned to the man. Jess' cold mask was firmly in place, his blue eyes deadly and guarded as he followed the man out the batwing doors.
A crowd was steadily forming as the took their positions on the street. Jess saw Molly standing in the door way of the saloon.
"The names O'Conners," the man said loudly for everyone to hear.
This is the way it always went, someone would challenge a big gun to make a name for themselves, Jess mussed as he waited for O'Conners to make his move. He studied the mans eyes, hand hovering over the butt of his gun, looking for that flash, that small sign that was so hard to spot that would tell him O'Conners was making his move.
There it was! Three shots echoed, pain ripped through Jess' left shoulder as he watched O'Conners fall. Pistol cocked, Jess staggered over to the lifeless man to make sure that he was, in fact, dead.
The silence of the crowd was broken as four men made there way forward to take O'Conners away.
"It was a fair fight, saw it with my own eyes, there won't be any charges pressed. But you'd best get out of this town." Jess looked up as the sheriff spoke to him, he nodded his understanding as he uncocked his gun and skillfully slid it into his holster.
His eyes met Molly's from across the street, he noted the disapproval in them before she turned sharply and reentered the saloon. Nope, he wouldn't be staying in this town any longer.
Telling himself that he would care for his wound on the trail after he left town, Jess made his way to pick up his horse Traveler from the livery stable.
As he now set in his saddle on the trail to Baxter Ridge, he idly wondered if anyone would have cared if it had been he who died instead of O'Conners.
His ears picked up the sound of gurgling water near by, he tried to straighten in the saddle and look for the stream that must be close to the trail. Spotting a nice shaded clearing with a brook running through it, Jess directed his horse over toward it, his sluggish mind failing to see the 'no trespassing' sign nailed up to a tree.
Jess slid off Traveler's back, grunting when his knees gave out and he landed kneeling on the ground, waves of pain making his quick breath ragged and shallow.
Once the pain became bearable again he crawled over to the stream to slay this thirst.
That done, he called Traveler over to let him drink. He looked down at his blood soaked shirt, and remembering that he had a spare shirt in his saddle bags, he grabbed Traveler's headstall and Traveler pulled him up to his feet, a trick Jess had taught him when he had first got him.
Jess made his way to his saddle bags and pulled out a faded blue shirt. He had Traveler help him over to a near by fallen log, oncer there he set down and gingerly removed his bloody shirt. He tore off a piece of the shirt he had been wearing and used it to rebandage his shoulder, noting the redness around the wound that meant it was infected. Then he slipped the blue shirt on and lowered himself to the ground, laying with his head on the log, he put his dirty black cowboy hat over his face and closed his eyes. Just a few minutes, he told himself.
Jess woke with a start as something poked his chest. He froze as he heard the familiar sound of a gun being cocked, "can't you read?" A rough, mincing voice asked.
Jess slowly moved his hands so that they were away from his body, showing that he didn't mean any harm. He winced as the movement aggravated his wounded shoulder. With his right hand he lifted his hat from his face so he could see whoever it was that he could now see was towering over him. Mentally he was kicking himself for letting someone sneak up on him. If he hadn't been sick, this guy wouldn't have been able to get within fifty yards of Jess without him knowing.
The man standing over him was really only a few years older than him by the looks of the young man, Jess saw as he looked past the rifle pointed at him. He was tall, very tall, with broad shoulders and a muscular build that you could only get from working hard.
He had blond hair and sky blue eyes, his strong jaw jutting out arrogantly as he looked down at Jess.
"Sure I can read!" Jess said, puzzled at what that had to do with anything.
"Then what didn't you understand about 'no trespassing'?" The older teen demanded.
"What are you talking about?" Jess was very confused at all these strange questions.
"Your on Sherman property and I'm Slim Sherman, what are you doing here? You road right by the 'no trespassing' sign." The blond stated.
"Well sorry," Jess said sarcastically, "I hope it's okay that a took a drink or two outta your stream. And my horse helped himself too."
The man, Slim, looked like he had just been insulted, "look, just get off my land and I'll give you your gun back."
With a start, Jess realized his pistol was in Slim's hand.
"Alright I'll get off your dad-blamed land!" Jess snarled as he levered himself up of the ground, he refused to let the pain show. But as he got to his feet his stomach flip flopped as everything started spinning without letup.
Jess swayed and pitched forward, he would have fell flat on his face if a shocked Slim hadn't caught him. Problem is, he grabbed his left shoulder. Pain flared and racked his whole body, it was so intense that black threatened to claim his fuzzy vision.
He could hear someone, Slim, his mind supplied him with a name, but he couldn't make out what he was saying. Slowly, blackness engulfed his vision and unconsciousness claimed him.