Chapter Ten

Jess sat on a log, the stillness around him was like a loneliness that couldn't depart. There was always a hollowness that settled inside of Jess' heart when a death occurred, but this time it went deeper, touching him all the way to the soul. He sighed, lifting his eyes to look around him at the land that seemed to sense his sorrow as it barely whispered a breeze through the green leafed trees. It was a familiar location, but since he was on Sherman property, he could have said that about anywhere, but this particular place held great significance, for it was at this very log, along the exact stream, below the same No Trespassing sign, where he and Slim had first met. Jess' shoulders were slumped and his head was down and although he heard the steps coming up from behind him, the knowledge of the presence was not shown anywhere on his body.

"Jess?" Slim stopped a short distance behind his partner, the concern evident in his tone and fully registered on his face. After the burial had been completed, Slim hadn't been surprised when Jess saddled his horse and rode away. Slim had watched him go, staying rooted to the ground even when he couldn't see Jess' profile anymore. He would have followed, not because he worried that Jess was purposely fleeing for good, but Slim knew his partner well enough that he knew Jess was seeking time to be alone and Slim didn't want to interfere in the delicate process that was Jess' intimate grief. Although Slim knew there was no precise allotted time for anyone to spend in solitude, for that was something that differed from person to person when faced with emotional turmoil, he wouldn't allow Jess to remain in such a state for too long. Slim had waited until the eastbound stage departed, over two hours since the fatal bullet had met its mark and then he mounted, letting his horse follow the pathway made by his faithful friend.

"Sit down, Pard," Jess nodded with his head to the empty space beside him.

"You're not angry at me, are you?" Slim asked as he seated himself down in the offered place. He stretched out his legs in front of him as they were too long to be comfortably positioned on the log as Jess was and then crossed one foot over the other.

"No," Jess shook his head, his eyes somewhere between Slim's feet and the stream, not entirely focused on anything at all, "why would I be?"

"I killed your cousin," Slim replied, his voice soft with emotion.

"He was gonna kill me, Slim," Jess said with a pained expression on his face. "You did what you had to do."

"I know," Slim barely nodded, "it's just that I know how you feel about your family."

"I can't really have feelings for someone that I didn't know," Jess answered and although it wasn't the entire truth in what he said, he didn't feel as if he was lying either. He did have feelings for the dead man, but they were in a pile of mixed, confusing emotions that swirled in the center of his being and at the moment, there wasn't any way possible that he could even begin to figure them out.

"Nevertheless, I was still the one that pulled the trigger on him."

"I don't fault you Slim. The fault was in him, and in me. You see, the thing is, Slim, I wanted to be just like him," the unfocused image in front of Jess suddenly blurred away and he saw himself as a little boy once more, following in his older, cowboy cousin's footsteps. "He was right when he said that one step's all it takes. I could still be just like him. Maybe someday you'll be shooting me down."

"No, Jess," Slim responded quickly, "you're not going to end up like him at all."

"You don't know that, Slim," Jess folded his hands together but didn't keep them stationary. His fingers rubbed over each other in a continuous motion, showing Jess' real agitation that was on the inside of him. "There's no guarantee that the next time that the Harper name is printed on a wanted poster that it ain't really gonna be for me."

"I can guarantee it," Slim said with confidence. "You're not the same man that you were when you were young, riding rough and rowdy. You changed from what you used to be, but your cousin never did. For Jason, it wasn't just one bad step that he took after an ill played poker game but something that had started a long time ago."

"What do you mean, Slim?"

"There was a note from Mort on the afternoon stage," Slim explained, "seems he sent out enough telegrams to the right places to get some quick responses about your cousin. With the description that I gave Mort, Jason was properly identified as the guilty man for the murder in Dover. But that wasn't the first time. He's been wanted before, many times actually in the past ten years or so. He didn't always use just one name. Different warrants are out for Jason Scott and Jason Harper, and likely a few other aliases over the years that we'll never know about."

"Jason Scott does sound familiar," Jess said slowly, now rubbing his clenched fists on his chin.

"It could," Slim nodded, "he's said to be the best, or worst, depending on how you look at it, gunfighter that ever came out of Abilene. I guess he kept his business separate from his other ventures, using Scott for gun fighting and Harper for outlawing and personal matters. From what Mort wrote, this was the first time a printout of him appeared this far north."

"I kinda remember the name and the reputation," Jess answered as he slightly shook his head, "didn't make the connection until now, though."

"It's probably a good thing that you didn't," Slim said with eyebrows raised, thinking how things could have dramatically been different if the two Harper cousins had met up, or faced off, with each other all those years before.

"Yeah," Jess dropped his hands back to his thighs with a soft whack, "but knowing all that takes me right back to being just like him, and I am, reputation and all."

"You're not a gunfighter anymore," Slim quickly pointed out.

"Ain't I?" Jess frowned as he shook his head. "I might be doing different work now, but I reckon a man never fully sheds who he once was. After all, it's forever in the blood."

Slim reached his hand out and turned Jess' wrist over, revealing the scabbed over line in his flesh and then rolled his own wrist upward, placing it close enough to Jess' so that they touched, hand next to hand, wrist next to wrist. For a moment neither of them spoke as the image that their matching bloodline created, like a perfectly placed branding iron, side by side together became like a living fire, emblazoning inside of each soul. The wound would one day heal and wouldn't be displayed in such boldness as it was now, but they both knew that it had been etched not just on their outer flesh, but in their inner being forever.

"Don't you remember what this signifies?" Slim asked, waiting for Jess' response to light on his face. When it did, he tapped Jess on the head twice with his fingers. "You're part Sherman now. You can't be all bad. But it's not just my blood that makes it so. You're a good man, Jess, and today you proved it in more than one way. You wouldn't have turned against me even without this. You didn't turn on me, therefore, I know you won't ever turn on yourself."

Jess ran a finger over the small cut at his wrist and a piece of the scab pushed aside as he did so, bringing a small dot of blood in its center start to form. His gaze penetrated into that red mark as it welled upward, seeing and feeling its meaning, and then without intentionally doing so, his mind produced another image. A young boy searched for someone to admire, but there was no longer a teenager with a future bent on destruction standing there, but now a man was in his place. It was Slim. He couldn't go wrong by following in the steps of a partner like Slim Sherman and that was exactly where he wanted to stay.

"You know, Pard," Jess began, letting half of his mouth slide upward in a smile, "that blood goes both ways. I reckon I did get some of that clean cut Sherman in me, but you got some disorderly Harper, too. Do you feel any different?"

"I wouldn't mind some of your characteristics," Slim said as they both stood up, "just don't give me all of them."

"What, don't you wanna be like me?" Jess asked with a fake pout.

"Let's just say now that we're blood brothers, we'll share a good mixture of us both."

"Fair enough," Jess nodded, "but I'm gonna be watching for you to start practicing your quick draw."

"Come on, Pard," Slim put his arm around Jess' shoulders as they both shared in a laugh, "let's go home."