Chapter 2

Jess Harper was on edge. He had spent all morning trying to break what was proving to be an unbreakable buckskin. Most would have given it up as a bad job by now and set it loose but stubborn as it undoubtedly was, they didn't come much more stubborn and ornery than Jess Harper. Especially when he was worried. He needed something to take his frustrations out on and the buckskin was the perfect quarry. And Jess had the bruises to prove it. "What the hell could have happened to Mose?" he wondered for the umpteenth time in the last couple of days.

The first they had known of any problem was when the stage run back from Cheyenne had failed to show the day before. You could usually set your watch by Mose but the scheduled time had come and there had been no sign. They hadn't been too worried at first. It was conceivable one of the horses had thrown a shoe and it wasn't unheard of to have an unscheduled stop for one of the passengers to empty the contents of their stomach when Mose took a bend too fast, as he was oft to do. But after two hours, Slim had been worried enough to head up to the top of the ridge to see if he could see any sign of a dust trail; anything that would tell him the stage was on its way. But there had been nothing. No sign at all. Both he and Jess had reached the same conclusion. That something sinister had to have happened. It had been too late to do anything that evening but it had been a tense time at the supper table with neither Slim nor Jess in the mood for small talk. What had been carried on the stage had been a secret; only known to a select few. Not even Daisy knew what was being carried when the stage had stopped briefly at the relay station to change teams. Once supper had been over they had sat on the porch trying to come up with a plausible and innocent explanation as to why the stage hadn't returned. But try as they might, neither of them had been able to come up with anything that didn't point to foul play. Which meant that, potentially somehow, somewhere there was a leak.

They had gone through all those who had known about the pay run aside from them both. There was Mose himself; he had worked for the stage for years. He was an ornery and downright frustrating old cuss at times but he was as honest as they came and both Slim and Jess were fond of the old goat. There was no way he could have been involved. Then there was Wes Seagar. Slim and Jess had known him for years. He was a good man, an ex lawman from Rapid City and a good friend of Mort Cory's. It was hard to believe that he could be behind anything like this. Jim Morgan was the Bank Manager. He had opened the bank before dawn on a Saturday morning to ensure security and that no one else knew about the shipment. He had run the Laramie bank for years and was a well-respected family man and citizen of the town. He wouldn't jeopardize everything he had built to pull something like this. That only left the head of the stage line in Cheyenne, Gray Hanson. Slim knew Gray well; he couldn't believe that he would have anything to do with robbing his own payroll. Jess had cautioned him that it'd been known to happen before but Slim just didn't buy it. Jess didn't know Gray like he did. There was just no way he would risk everything that way; not when the payroll was only a fraction of what the business was worth.

So the only other explanation they had been able to come up with was either an accident or opportunist attackers who had struck 'lucky'. They had quickly ruled out the former; the Laramie – Cheyenne road was dry as a bone and had been for weeks; no chance for ruts to harden up in the hot sun after a rainy spell. Besides, Mose was too good a driver for that to happen. He knew that road and all its bumps and curves like the back of his own hand. Nope, neither of them could figure it out. So Slim had resolved to ride into Laramie the next morning and wire the stage office in Cheyenne to find out what had happened. As it was, there was already a wire waiting when he got there. Gray Hanson wanted to know why the hell the stage hadn't shown up in Cheyenne on schedule.

Slim had come back shortly afterwards accompanied by Mort and a small posse and had filled Jess in on what he knew; that the stage had never arrived at its destination and Mort had volunteered to take some men and head down towards Cheyenne to see if he could find any trace of the coach or its driver and guard. Jess had felt sick to his stomach. Both Mose and Seagar were well-respected and popular figures in Laramie. Especially Mose. He had been the stage driver for years and he couldn't imagine not seeing the likeable old fella round anymore. He had wanted to ride with the posse but Slim had asked him to stay at the ranch with Daisy and Mike. If there were bushwhackers around, and with many of the town's menfolk riding the posse, he didn't want to leave them unprotected. Much as he had wanted to ride out and join the search for Mose, Jess had understood the sense of it and had reluctantly agreed. But he never had been much good at waiting and had been eventually shooed out by Daisy when his pacing had become too much for her to bear.

Jess sighed and gathered up his lariat. He had been at it for a good few hours now and all he had succeeded in doing with his heavy-handed approach was make the buckskin more skittish and add to his own growing frustration. He climbed over the corral fence and, as if in triumph, the buckskin snorted. Jess turned and regarded his nemesis; his coat all lathered, eyes wild. He may have won the battle but not the war. Jess wasn't done with him by a long shot. "You'll keep," he muttered.

He was just about to make his way back into the house to get some of Daisy' home made lemonade to quench his thirst, when his sharp ears picked up the sound of riders coming. He turned to look towards the road winding its way down into the Relay Station from over the ridge, his heart in his mouth, his hand fingering his iron instinctively. It sounded like multiple riders. It could be Slim, Mort and the posse returning. They'd only been gone a few hours and wouldn't be coming back so early unless they'd found what they had been looking for. Still, his finger hovered over his iron just in case…Jess never assumed anything.

As the riders cleared the rise, it was confirmation to Jess, that, yes, it was, indeed, the posse returning. His sharp eyes counted the number of riders. Slim had taken a couple of spare horses from the corral for Mose and Seagar, if they were alive but, from this distance, Jess couldn't see any extra men sitting in the saddle. Instead, he noted at least one riderless mount being led. At the sound of approaching horses, Daisy appeared at the door.

"Jess. Is it Slim?" She asked expectantly.

Jess turned, seeing his own worry reflected back at him. "Looks that way Daisy."

" Is Mose with them?"

"Can't tell yet. Where's Mike, Daisy?"

"He's in his room, doing his homework."

Jess nodded. "Make sure he stays there Daisy will ya? Just until I know what's up?"

Looking at the serious expression on the young man's face, Daisy didn't need to ask any more. It was clear that Jess was expecting the worse and that he wanted Mike shielded from it. As someone who had seen more than his fair share of horrors at a tender age, if the worst had happened, well, Jess didn't want the boy's last memory of the loveable old coot to be seeing him trussed up and slung across the back of a horse. She nodded silently and scuttled back into the house.

Jess watched as the riders came closer, the thunder of their hooves reverberating in his ears. Through the dust cloud eddying around them, his eyes struggled to find what he was looking for; to see the evidence of what they might have found. It wasn't long, though before his keen eyes penetrated the dissipating dust and found what he had desperately hoped they wouldn't see. One of the horses was being lead by the Sheriff, a shrouded bundle tied across the saddle confirming his worst fears. He hoped that Mike would do as he was told for once and stay put. He really didn't want the boy to see this, especially if it was Mose.

As the posse finally rode in, Jess couldn't take his eyes off the trussed figure across the front of the handsome sorrel. He felt sick to the stomach to think that after all these years of riding the Cheyenne – Laramie stage, this could be how it would end for Mose. He realised with regret that he didn't even know his last name.

"Jess."

The dark haired young rancher looked up at the grim faced sheriff. Mort was by no means a young man but Jess had never seen him look this old, this haggard.

"Mort" He acknowledged the Sheriff, his friend. "That Mose?" He gestured towards the body. He knew it was the only way to bring it back. Still, it was an undignified end for anyone, let alone someone he thought such a great deal of.

"No it ain't," a familiar but strained voice piped up "But I wish it was; trustin' ol' fool he is." Jess started, his heart in his mouth. While his attention had been drawn to the body draped over the sorrel, he had failed to notice Slim come riding up from the rear of the posse. He had now dismounted and was helping the figure who'd been riding double with him, down off the back of Alamo. The relief Jess felt was palpable. It was Mose. Looking bruised and battered, and none too steady on his feet, but very much alive, which meant the shrouded figure on the horse had to be…..

"Seagar?"

Mort nodded wordlessly. Jess had never seen him look so defeated. He felt a pang of sorrow for his friend. Wes Seagar and Mort had been good friends; Seagar had given up the dangers of being a lawman in the Dakotas and had brought his wife and young sons further south for a better life. He had told Mort that he had wanted the chance to see his sons grow to manhood and Mort had told him there was nowhere better than Wyoming to do that. And so he had heeded his friend's advice and had bought a ranch outside of Laramie to give them the life they had always dreamed of, riding shotgun for the stage occasionally for some extra money. But now his sons had been robbed of their father and his wife a husband. And it would fall to Mort to break the news.

"What happened?"

Mort slowly dismounted, gesturing towards Slim who was supporting Mose and slowly helping him towards the house.

"Let's talk inside." He turned to his deputy who was still mounted ahead of the half a dozen other men who had ridden out with them. "Evers, you and the others water your horses and head back into town. Take Wes' body to the undertakers. I'd prefer to do it myself but I'll have to stop and break the news to Sally and the boys and I don't want the boys rememberin' their pa that way. You other men stop off at the office later on and Bill'll give you your pay. Oh, and Bill? Send Doc Webb back here for Mose as well will ya? I reckon he'll be stopping here for a while."

Evers nodded silently and rode up to take the reins of the sorrel carrying the body of the man they had all come to greatly respect. He turned and headed over to the water trough, the others following. Mort lead his horse over to the hitching rail and Jess followed, leading Alamo. They tied up the horses and followed Slim into the house. He had already settled the stage driver onto the leather day bed and was setting a coffee pot and three cups on the table. Daisy was already tending to Mose, busily trying to examine the numerous cuts on the old mans face. Unable to hold back his curiosity any longer, Mike had silently emerged from his room and was hovering in the doorway looking wide eyed at the old stage driver he had always enjoyed funnin' with. To see him so beat up and bruised was disturbing to him. Slim looked up as Jess and Mort entered.

"Coffee Mort?" The older man nodded tiredly, removing his dust-ridden hat and sat down at the table.

Jess looked from one man to the other. Both seemed to be having difficulty making eye contact with him, and Slim had yet to say a word to him. He was chomping at the bit to find out what had happened to leave Seagar dead and Mose badly beaten and he got the distinct impression that there was something about all this that he, in particular, was not going to like.

"Is Mose gonna be alright?" piped up a small voice.

"Oh sure I am son, I'll be right as rain in no time, takes a lot to floor an ornery old goat like me." They were brave words and they were solely for the boy's benefit but the swollen face, labored breath and sheen of perspiration on the old man's face indicated that he was more in need of doctoring than Daisy was able to provide.

Jess looked at Slim again but he was now sitting staring at the bottom of his coffee cup as if somehow that held the answer to what was, clearly, troubling him. Jess had had enough of this.

"Hey Tiger, why don't you do me a favour? Alamo's tied up at the hitchin' rail out there. Why don't you take him into the barn, feed and water him and give him a good rub down? Maybe then Mose'll be feelin' a bit better huh?"

Mike looked over for confirmation from Slim. It was his horse after all. Slim nodded.

"Go on Tiger, I'd sure appreciate it. He's had a hard ride. Water Mort's horse too while you're there."

"Alright. I hope you're feelin' better soon Mose." He turned and headed towards the door.

"Now don't you worry 'bout me son, I'll be up and ridin' the stage again 'afore ya know it." The wracking coughs that overcame him belied the show of optimism for the boy's benefit. It would be a while before Mose went anywhere.

Daisy had finished her ministrations to his face and was now trying to undo his shirt to see what damage lay beneath. She suspected broken ribs but Mose batted her away. The eternal bachelor was not used to such fussin', even if it was from someone he admired, like Miss Daisy. Besides, he was rapidly tiring and there were things he needed to talk through with the boys before the sleep he so desperately needed claimed him.

"Now Mose, you'd better let me take a look at those ribs. They'll need some binding."

"They'll keep Miss Daisy. Thank you kindly for takin' care of me. Much obliged."

Daisy looked up for support from Slim and Mort but she didn't like what she saw reflected back in their eyes. She had seen the body on the sorrel and had drawn her own conclusions as to who it was but she had the impression it was more than the death of Wes Seagar and the beating of Mose that was bothering them, not that that wasn't bad enough. She got the distinct impression they were waiting to talk things through and that she was in the way. Mose needed to rest but it was clear he wasn't going to until he had said what he needed to.

"Alright, I'll leave it to Doc Webb." She addressed Slim "Now I'll leave you men to talk but don't tire him out too much. I'll go and see how Mike's getting along."

Slim smiled weakly, grateful for her perceptiveness "Thanks Daisy."

Jess, who had still been hovering by the door, opened it for her, patting her arm as she exited. She looked back at him, concern reflected in her eyes.

He tried to smile reassuringly but truth was, he had been feeling more and more uneasy. He didn't like the fact that none of them seemed to be able to look him in the eye; Slim, Mort, not even Mose. He closed the door and turned back to Slim and Mort, both seated at the table.

"Alright. Now is someone gonna tell me what the hell's goin' on?"