Brisco's skin tingled as his blood pulsed through his body; his heart rate quickening with each passing second. He watched as the hooded men flooded the courthouse, dragging Jessie behind them a few moments later. He watched her squirm against the chains. When the largest hooded man delivered a kick to her ribs, Brisco felt a tug in his chest, followed by a wave of rage.

"Well, now, that's not very hospitable of you." He heard his sister quip, earning her another swift kick. "I'm sorry," Jessie continued, her voice strained, "I shouldn't use big words, huh? 'Hospitable' means 'friendly'. I'm sorry if there was some confusion."

"You think you're funny? It's going to be kinda hard to talk once we get you strung up."

Brisco turned sharply on his heel, his rage leading him now. He could hear nothing beyond the pounding in his head and the taunts of the men below. He reached the door in two strides, grabbing for the Winchester rifle he bought before he made his ride out here. A sharp grasp on his arm pulled him back to reality and he found himself staring furiously at the hand that caused him from finishing his murderous rampage.

"What do you think you're doing?" The stern tone forced Brisco's stare upward. His father's face hadn't changed, he noticed, still calm, still collected.

"They're going to hang Jessie."

"I know that, boy. I asked you what you think you're doing." Brisco's eye narrowed and he opened his mouth to answer, only to be cut off by his father's cool tone. "How many men are out there?" Brisco paused as he tried to picture the scene outside. Drawing a blank, he shrugged. "Who's the leader on that posse down there? And what's your plan when you get down there? Or, are you just going to make it up as you go along?" Brisco shrugged again and diverted his eyes back to the hand on his arm. "You know, a blood-thirsty mob is just as likely to hang you right next to Jessamyn and that won't do the either of you any good." When Brisco remained silent, Brisco Sr. let his arm slip from his grip and walked calmly toward the window.

"C'mere, son." Brisco dutifully followed. "Let me tell you your plan of attack. See the leader, over there." Brisco Sr. gestured to the man standing next to Jessie. "He's the head of this little posse. He's the one instigating everything. You can tell by his posture. By the things he yells. And just how willingly the others are to follow him. He's also the loudest. You stand your ground with him, you have a chance of warding the rest of the men off. Everyone in a mob needs someone to follow. You take away that someone, the rest scatter like mice. Trust me." Brisco nodded, his palms moistening as he struggled to keep a tight grip on his rifle.

"You better get goin', boy." Brisco Sr. muttered as a hooded man tightened the noose around Jessie's neck.

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"You know, we can talk about this." Jessie cried out, the panic she felt projecting into her voice. "I mean, who says we all can't be civilized about these things?"

"I do." the man next to her hissed, the familiar smell of cigar smoke and whiskey permeating her nostrils.

"Aren't you supposed to be enforcing the laws, not breaking them?" Jessie hissed back, the last words strangled as the rope tightened around her neck.

"I'm supposed to make sure you swing, and there's a handsome reward in it for me if I get it done tonight, so I'm getting it done tonight. By the way, Mr. Hawthorne says hello." The name made her blood run cold. She struggled against the binds around her waist as the rope cut off her air. They were lifting her off the ground, she realized, and she began to kick the air feverishly, hoping to connect with someone, anyone. Tears streamed down her dusty face, leaving behind slender trails of mud as her body cried out for oxygen. She wrestled with the rope that prevented her hands from flying up to her throat before forcing her self to calm down. She remembered the stories of men nearly decapitated as they struggled against a posse's noose, the story Steele had told her about Jim still fresh in her mind. If she was going to die, at least she was going to stay in one piece and not give the fifteen hooded men the satisfaction of watching her die a gruesome and violent death. As if being hanged as the life slowly slipped from her wasn't bad enough.

And where the hell was Brisco? Had they gotten to him first? Was he dead? He had to be dead. Or else he would be here now. The tears began to flow much more freely.

She felt the strength slip from her body; her vision began to blur, causing her to blink repeatedly to try and focus. The men under her feet were still taunting her, but they sounded miles away.

Somewhere in the distance, she heard a loud pop, and she fell crashing to the ground. Another series on pops, three altogether, and the night was eerily silent.

"Get away from her." Jessie greedily gulped mouthfuls of air as she rolled on her stomach to get a better look of the scene around her. She felt relief flood her body when she saw her brother aiming a rifle at the man who had taunted her earlier. The man who smelled distinctly like expensive cigars and whiskey.

"At what time did you decide this was a good idea, mister?" The hooded man asked, a slight drawl to his voice to keep Brisco from recognizing it.

"I said 'get away from her'. Get on your horses and go back to your homes. You let the law deal with Jessamyn County. Not mob justice."

"It's going to end the same way either way." He shot back, keeping Brisco engaged in conversation, holding his gaze, Jessie noticed, as his hand inched closer to the pistol at his side.

"Brisco." she tried to call out, but all she could manage was a tiny croak.

"It'll save the people of this town a whole hell of a lot of money if we get it done now. So why don't you take you self-righteous attitude somewhere else, mister. It ain't wanted out here." The hooded man reached for his pistol, his movements swift and nearly undetectable. Brisco drew his own revolver, never losing the grip of the Winchester in his right hand, and fired once, the bullet skimming across the top of the hooded man's hand, skimming flesh from bone. The man didn't cry out, or even yelp, but he did detract his hand and cradled it gently with the other.

"The next bullet goes right into your head. Understand?" The tension was palpable. Each man stood his ground, reluctant to show weakness in front of the others. Jessie stared at her brother, seeing for the first time in her life the set jaw, the determined look, the blood-lust in Brisco's dark eyes. His face was flushed with anger; his hand was steady, aimed directly at the man's forehead.

"I think you're bluffing, mister." he drawled. Jessie could sense the superior smirk on the marshal's face. "You're not a killer." His wounded hand twitched and Brisco fired another round, the bullet grazing the hood, nicking the flesh hidden inside. The man hissed sharply and cupped his ear as a trickle of crimson stained the fabric.

"Third times the charm." Brisco sneered, charging another round. "Maybe it's time to go home?" The man's gaze bored into Brisco's for a few more moments before his shoulders sagged. He nodded and looked over the disguised men surrounding him.

"Let's go, boys! We'll have to have this hangin' party another day." Brisco waited until the last of the men had rode from sight before rushing to Jessie's side, gingerly loosening the coarse rope from her throat.

"What took you so long?" Jessie joked, her voice not much more than a whisper. Brisco forced a small smile, unsure if he should tell her about the fact their father was in his hotel room.

"I thought you had a sure fire plan to get out of here?" Brisco mocked as he helped her to her feet.

"I didn't plan on the lynching party to be so soon."

"Ah. A variable you didn't think of, hmm?" Brisco untied the rope binding her wrists to her waist, offering her a steady hand as her wary legs failed her.

"I guess not." She mumbled.

"You alright?" The new voice unnerved the siblings for a moment, until they realized the voice belonged to Bill Jackson. He looked genuinely concerned, his pale eyes wide, as he offered an arm for assistance. Jessie waved him away, her face twisted in a dark scowl.

"I'm fine. Thanks for the help, by the way." Bill opened his mouth to answer, but he found no voice, he closed it tightly and sheepishly looked away.

"Problems, County?"

"Oh, there you are!" Jessie cried out mockingly. "You know, there's never a sheriff around when you need one."

"Oh, did you need my help?" She looked over the sheriff with disgust, wondering how someone could sweat through a shirt and a jacket in such cool weather.

"Oh, it was nothing really. Just a slight disagreement." Jessie shot back sarcastically. Sheriff Trent matched her disgusted smirk before turning his attention to Bill.

"Take her ass back upstairs. Make sure she's chained up."

"I'm going up there with her." Brisco jumped in, grabbing Jessie's arm protectively. Trent shrugged a shoulder and spat tobacco juice on the ground, missing the bounty hunter's toe by mere inches.

"Suit yourself. You just keep digging yourself deeper, doncha, Mr. County?" The hefty sheriff spat again. "Have a good night's rest, County."

"What a disgusting slob." Jessie muttered as she followed Brisco into the courthouse, Bill's arm gripping tightly at her upper arm.

"And, he's a real charmer." Brisco said in support, holding the door to her room to allow Bill and Jessie to enter.

"Hey, you think you can get me some water or something, so I can clean up?" Jessie asked innocently, a carefree smile upon her lips. The familiar conflicted look crossed the deputy's face as he glanced quickly from Jessie to Brisco.

"Well, I'm the one responsi-"

"He's not going to let me escape." Jessie interrupted. "He's straight as they come, even if it's his baby sister, who he should allow escape while you're getting me some water like any other normal brother would, but he won't. Cause he's really not normal."

"She's not going anywhere." Brisco reassured, his calm tone deciding Bill's answer. The deputy nodded and shuffled out the door, locking it securely behind him.

"Well, at least he's smart enough to lock us in." Jessie said softly, plopping down on the bed.

"You're pretty ungrateful aren't you?" Brisco muttered, settling in the chair Bill had pulled closer to the bed earlier.

"What? I was just trying to convince Bill to get me some water. And what I said is the truth. You're not going to let me go."

"No, I'm not." Brisco agreed.

"So then what's your problem? You're not the one who almost ended up dangling from the end of a rope."

"No. I wasn't."

"Thank you, by the way." Jessie said quietly, attempting to brush the dirt from her face, succeeding in only smearing the mud across her cheeks.

"You're welcome. I'm sure you would have done the same if the roles were reversed."

"Damn straight. I would have been a lot more dramatic about it, though. I like the rush."

"Is that why you do it?" Brisco asked, earning a confused look from his sister.

"Do what?"

"Run around with people like Juno Dawkins and George Sutton?" He watched as her demeanor changed. The over-confidence she usually displayed disappeared, replaced by a solemn, if not depressed, Jessie. The new look surprised him; he had never seen his sister like that before.

"Juno and George are not the same caliber of person. And there are different reasons why I chose to be with both."

"Then what are they?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me." Jessie stared into her brother's eyes for several beats, searching for answers to questions she didn't know how to ask. She finally let a deep breath slip slowly from her lungs and she shrugged half-heartedly.

"I loved George, Brisco." she said quietly, her words strong. "He wasn't like they said he was. He wasn't like you think he was. His family had the same problem Aunt Elisabeth and Uncle Stephen had." Brisco blinked back in surprise at the mention of their aunt and uncle. The same aunt and uncle Jessie was sent to live with after their mother was killed. Brisco Sr. had made the decision only a day after his wife's death, knowing he couldn't take care of his two year old daughter with the job he held, and he couldn't ask his twelve year old son to pick up his slack.

"We weren't hurting anybody but Mr. Hawthorne."

"Hawthorne." Brisco repeated softly. "The bank mogul." Jessie nodded.

"He also has a major stake in the railroad." Jessie explained. "And he needs the land outside of Tombstone. And those who wouldn't sell, he'd just send his men to kill them. He's the only one we were hurting. We were only robbing his banks, his trains, his stagecoaches. And I didn't kill all those men they say I did."

"I know."

"I only killed the man who killed George. And I only succeeded in hitting him after he shot me twice. So I guess you can say that was self-defense?" Jessie joked lightly, trying unsuccessfully to lighten the atmosphere.

"Probably wouldn't fly, seeing as how you were committing a bank robbery in the first place."

"Hey, I thought you wanted my assistance with my own defense?" When Jessie realized Brisco wasn't going to crack much more than a tiny grin, the solemn look returned. "Anyway, George was a good man. That's why I'm not going to let you sully his name any further. His brothers talked him into going in the first place. To "fight the railroad" they told him. And he asked me to come along, He said I wasn't going to be safe in Tombstone. Hawthorne had already killed Uncle Stephen. He shot him, Brisco. In the back." Jessie's voice raised in anger with each word, her tone almost a shrill pitch. "Uncle Stephen wasn't even armed." She paused to collect herself. "He was going to starve out the rest of us. I just couldn't stand by and let that happen."

"What about Juno?" Brisco asked, deciding it would be best to change the subject when he noticed the murderous glint in Jessie's azure eyes. His sister shrugged in response.

"A girl likes to feel needed sometimes."

"And that means?" He pressed.

"It means maybe you should listen to me. I need you to leave. I need you to get as far away from town as possible, Brisco. I appreciate all your help, but I can promise you, I'm not going to be here after tonight."

"You're sure?" Jessie nodded.

"Juno needs me, too. He'll be here tonight. And not only that, Hawthorne's here, in town. And he wants me dead. And he'll kill you if need be. And I don't want that."

"Wouldn't Juno have been here sooner, if he was coming for you?"

"He wouldn't know I was caught until it reached the papers. And even then, he's in Oregon. It takes a while."

"He wasn't in Nevada?" Jessie shook her head but refused to elaborate.

"He likes it dramatic, too. So I'm begging. Leave me here. I promise you, I'll be fine."