Chapter 2: Old Friends, New Enemies

3 Days Later

North of Tucumcari, New Mexico

Jess was getting tired of traveling. He hated to admit it, but somewhere in the middle of Colorado while riding over rocky mountainous roads he had come to this realization. A little break from the ranch had sounded wonderful, but now as he was out in the New Mexico desert he realized that building fence sounded like a picnic compared to the damage the seat was doing to his lower back.

"Stage stop, everybody out!"

Jess sighed in relief with the other passengers, most of which looked softer than himself. All but Trampas seemed like desk clerks. Jess wasn't sure what to make of the man riding across the seat from him. At first his incessant chatter had nearly driven Jess to jump over and strangle the man, but soon Jess realized that he enjoyed the man's humorous tales.

The stage pulled into the yard and Jess was jumping out before it was completely stopped, wanting to stretch his legs as soon as possible.

"Whoa there," the Trampas commented as he too stepped out, once the coach was safely still. "You've got nerves."

"Yeah, and they can't take no more of that seat."

"Ha, ha!"

Jess shook his head at the cowboy, but a small smile fought to be shown. The two made their way over to the pump, washed their faces and hands, after which they entered the stage station. After eating a mediocre meal, too soon they were required to board the stage once again, this time with a new passenger, a young man with dark blond hair.

"Howdy," he greeted. "Name's Obadiah Smith—"

"OBIE?!" Jess shouted.

"Who—Jess!" The two men shook hands enthusiastically. "You old sidewinder! Where have you been keeping yourself?"

"Been workin' on a little ranch outside of Laramie. What about you?"

"Oh, you know, this and that. You look good, Jess. Still as skinny as a beanpole, but good."

"It's all that clean mountain air, Obie. You ought to try it sometime."

Obie sat back in his seat, grinning broadly. "Jess Harper, settling down. I'd never believe it if I didn't hear it from the man himself, and still I ain't so sure it's true."

"Yeah, it's true…for now anyway. The old itch is still plaguin' me."

"That how come you're all the way out here?"

"No…well, not exactly. My boss runs a relay station. He sent me down here on company business."

"What kind of business?"

"Can't tell you, Obie. Sorry."

"I ain't offended."

Trampas studied the interaction. At first he was bemused by the encounter, delighted at the chance encounter of two long-lost friends, but he soon decided that the meeting seemed almost too chance-like. As the trip continued, the feeling grew. Obie Smith was very friendly…too friendly. Jess explained to Trampas how the two of them used to work together. Though he didn't delve into details as to what kind of work that was, Trampas had half a notion it involved guns.

Trampas knew as well as anyone else on the coach that Jess was involved in some sort of secret mission for the stage company, something that almost always involved large amounts of money. Obie displayed more than a passing interest in Jess' life, especially in his career with the line.

Trampas liked Jess a lot for having just met the man a week earlier. They were similar in backgrounds: both had grown up in Texas before joining the Confederate cause, and then drifted west again. They were both on their way to becoming respectable citizens, but Trampas knew how easy it was to veer off the straight and narrow after traveling the hoot owl trail for too long.

Obie's unexpected appearance and dangerous aura made Trampas concerned for his new friend, but he could do nothing about it. His stop soon came in a small town called Sweet Springs, about a day's trip from Amarillo. Trampas watched the stage pull away, waving at Jess with a sense of dread building over his head like a dark cloud. Something just didn't feel right.

Trampas almost laughed in relief when the stage pulled into town a few days later, for riding shotgun was no one other than Jess, alive and well. The slender man jumped down from his high seat with a hand extended. Trampas took it warmly, saying, "Say there Jess, funny meeting you here."

"Trampas, to you, everything is funny."

"Ha, ha! You got me, Jess. You takin' on passengers? Looks like you're pretty full." Indeed the coach was almost full…with dangerous-looking men.

Jess rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease tension. "I don't know, Trampas. This is what you might call a 'special' trip. Might be better if you were to wait until the next one comes through."

"Come on, Jess," Trampas pleaded. "That's what the ticket man said, but I just got to get back to Medicine Bow, pronto. Got some important stuff to get back to the boss, and it's burnin' a hole through my pocket. Don't like to carry this much responsibility for too long. Kinda wears on my sunny disposition, you know."

"Yeah, I know. Got the same feelin' myself. Let me talk to the boss." Jess had a quick but animated conversation with one of the passengers, a man in his sixties. He returned quickly. "Seems the Judge's name throws some weight around, even all the way down here. He said you could ride so long as you give me your gun. He'll feel safer that way."

Trampas reluctantly gave up his shooting iron. "I'll just ride up top."

"Suit yourself," Jess said. "Gonna be hot."

"I'll survive."

A couple hours later, the coach entered the desert…and it was hot. Trampas wiped his forehead with one arm. "How much longer before we get a stop?" he shouted.

Jess smirked over his shoulder. "A while yet. How's that sunny disposition of yours coming? Still glad you took this stage?"

"Very funny," Trampas muttered, though he doubted Jess could hear him.

Little did they know, it was about to get much hotter.

The stage entered an outcropping of rock, small buttes rising up on the both sides of the trail. Trampas felt uneasy at this development, but it was the only clear trail through the country. Jess was squeezing his rifle as well, his black gloves stretching tight over his knuckles.

Trampas was opening his canteen to take a sip when suddenly the water vessel went flying out of his hand, knocked away by an unseen force. "What—"

"AMBUSH!"

Trampas grabbed for his pistol, forgetting that it was safely stowed under Jess' feet. "Jess! Give me my gun!" Jess didn't hear Trampas, as he was too busy firing his rifle at attackers. "Jess! Let me help—"

Trampas' call was cut short as he was catapulted through the air as the stage hit a recently-dug trench in the road. He helplessly flew forward with Jess and the driver off the top of the coach. Trampas felt horrible pain as he struck the ground before he felt nothing at all.