A/N: Thank you all for sticking with me this far! I admit writing scenes like the last chapter and upcoming ones isn't my strong suit, so this is a writing exercise for me. Despite my reservations, I'm really excited about what's coming up! I hope you all enjoy :)
Chapter Twelve
Seven forty-five.
Turning away from the clock, Slim squeezed his eyes shut, biting back a huff of frustration. Two hours since Will and Ben had ridden in and made themselves at home. Shortly after their arrival, the pair had made short work of unloading the ranch artillery, and Slim had taken that opportunity to gather his thoughts and work at throwing together a makeshift plan. Will would have no qualms about shooting either him or Jess if they so much as batted an eye in a suspicious way, Slim figured. But Ben, on the other hand; the outlaw would kill both men if he was pushed to it, for sure, but he'd put it off until it was unavoidable. Having only known the two for a short while, Slim did his best to assess them accurately with the little information he'd gathered. Recalling the robberies preceding Jim Kelly's murder, Slim considered the absence of violence. That abstinence was deliberate, he was sure. Ben seemed like the kind of man that would steal a man's petty cash, or the contents of his safe, with little to no reservations; but he'd avoid killing his victims at all costs.
Piecing these deductions together with Will's blatant bloodlust and irritation with his partner's soft side, Slim had come to the conclusion that Ben - as the elder by what looked to be around ten years - had run the operation thus far, until the Kelly shooting. Will was young and impulsive, younger than Jess by no more than a year or two, surely. He lacked his accomplice's common sense. The reality of hanging for murder hadn't occurred to him until it was too late, and now he would do anything in his power to escape the fate he'd created for himself. Will was a cornered wolf, and Slim knew he'd have to tread carefully around the younger outlaw's hair-trigger temper if he wanted to get both himself and Jess out of this mess alive.
Unfortunately, Slim had sorely underestimated Ben when making his original, hasty assessment. Acting on impulse, Slim had thrown caution to the wind and taken a page from Jess's book. Will had stepped outside for a brief moment, and Slim lunged for the only immediate threat in the room – Ben.
Jess rose from his seat as soon as he heard Slim's shout, but couldn't discern who had the advantage from the sounds of the scuffle. Something clattered to the ground, and was kicked across the room. It had to be Ben's gun, Jess reasoned. The outlaw hadn't fired a shot, so he must have dropped his iron. His heart sped up, thumping rapidly in his chest. The scraping, sliding sound had stopped near the kitchen; or at least, that was the best Jess could figure. He lunged towards the wall, rushing to guide himself forward while feeling for the gun with his foot.
Slim's focus was so wholly on Ben that he barely noticed Jess, out of the corner of his eye, going for the gun. Attaboy, Jess! he rooted inwardly while struggling under Ben's weight. He hadn't taken Ben for much of a fighter – while not much older than Slim, he seemed slower, more deliberate in his actions. He now moved with a speed and force that Slim hadn't thought him capable of. The blond was barely able to think fast enough to keep up with his powerful blows.
As Jess scrambled towards the gun, groping fingers outstretched, a part of him itched to be fighting in Slim's place. In a way, he missed the feel of a well-aimed right hook hitting its mark, and the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins when he dodged a harsh blow. But Slim now filled the role of the more able fighter, and Jess occupied himself with getting his hands on Ben's gun. His hands brushed over the sanded wooden floors, and his whispered curse of frustration drowned out by the sound of struggles across the room. As was the case with Slim and Ben, he was so preoccupied with his task that he didn't hear or feel a fourth presence enter the room. His hand had just brushed against cold steel, excitement rising up inside of him, when an arm locked around his throat and jerked him to his feet.
"Sherman!"
Will's breath was hot on Jess's ear, and he struggled to turn his head away. He launched an arm backward, and the elbow connected solidly. He reared for another blow, but Will caught his arm mid-strike, and the arm at his throat constricted further.
Taking his breaths in small, thin gasps, Jess was suddenly aware of the silence that filled the room. No more grunts or thumps from Slim or Ben; only heavy panting, and the light shuffle of feet.
"Let him go." Slim's words came out all in one breath, followed by ragged, tired breathing.
Jess swallowed, and a strangled cough forced its way around the restricting limb. He gritted his teeth, strength and consciousness waning.
The next seconds dragged by, the room nearly silent, with the exception of a choked sound from Jess.
"Sure." Will's relenting nonchalance broke the brief silence, and he released his hold and shoved Jess forward in one swift, fluid motion. His fight with Ben forgotten, Slim immediately moved to catch his friend; but Jess, not expecting the sudden movement, caught his boot on the floorboards and lurched forward. His head cracked against the hearth, and the slender frame crumpled, laying still by the fireplace.
"Jess!" Panic pulsing through him, Slim dropped to his knees by the younger man's side, carefully lifting Jess's head off the floor. His fingers touched wet warmth, and his heart dropped to his stomach.
"Relax, Sherman, he'll be right as rain when he wakes up." A sharp prod from a revolver drew Slim upright, and he turned blazing eyes on Will.
"He's hurt."
Will barely spared Jess a glance. "He's fine. If you aim to see him stay that way, you'll leave him be and get back in your chair."
For a long moment, Slim stood tall and defiant, unwilling to leave Jess unattended, but unwilling to see him hurt further. His hands curled into fists, relaxed, then tightened again restlessly. Relenting with a short, reluctant nod, Slim took a step back. "Alright. Take it easy, I'm going." He hardly had the chance to follow through, though; the sound of an approaching rider took precedence, commanding all three men's attention.
In the span of seconds, Ben was peering through the front window, inching the curtains out of the way. "Lawman. I can kinda make out a badge in the lantern light." He whirled away from the window, taking charge with surprising control and efficiency. "Get Harper out of sight, in case the fella comes inside," he ordered, prompting an immediate reaction from Will. His stern, piercing glare fell onto Slim. "Get rid of him. I don't care how you do it, but do it quick."
Anger burning, Slim bit his tongue to keep from snapping at Will when the outlaw hefted Jess over a shoulder. Instead, he stood silent while his partner was carried into the bedroom, and directed his attentions toward the matter outside.
"Watch it out there. If any shootin' starts," Ben warned darkly, "Harper gets the first bullet." If Slim had any previous doubts about the older man's willingness and ability to kill if necessary, they were dashed in that moment. Ben meant every word he said.
"Slim! Jess!"
So it was Mort, not a deputy. Slim's heart quickened its pace as he stepped out into the night. He'd never lied to Sheriff Corey before, and he dreaded the idea of having to now. A light chill danced down his spine, and he shuddered – partly due to the nip in the air, but mostly to cold apprehension. "Mort. Had any luck with the posse?"
Sheriff Corey sighed heavily, and gave Slim a tired shake of his head. "No. Nothing. We lost their tracks about five miles from the Kelly's, so we've been searching other ranches around Laramie. It wouldn't make sense for those two to stick around any longer, but I can't shake the feeling that they're still somewhere close."
"You think they might still be around?" Slim feigned surprise, exercising every ounce of restraint to keep from looking back at the house, or giving Mort some other physical hint. Instead, he forced his gaze straight ahead, offering no indication as to the pair's whereabouts. "Surely they're smarter than that... anyone with half a lick of sense would high-tail it out of the territory as soon as things went sour."
"Maybe so. Half of us are still around Laramie, but a good seven or eight posse men rode on toward Cheyenne and Rimrock. I think we've got a pretty fair chance of catching them." Mort rubbed a hand across his worn, exhaustion-lined face. "I've still got three more ranches to visit before I meet the rest of the posse, so I'll be quick. Have you or Jess seen any strangers come through that might be suspect?"
Slim shook his head, repressing the guilt that welled up inside. "There were no passengers on the stage this afternoon, and no strangers rode through either. I'm sorry, Mort." I'm sorry I have to lie to you like this. I wish I could tell you, I really do.
Mort nodded appreciatively, but something in the way he looked at Slim made the tall rancher think the sheriff might not have entirely believed him. Worried for not only Jess's safety, but Mort's as well, Slim forced any rigidity from his stance and softened his expression. "I'm sorry I couldn't be more help."
Shrugging, the old sheriff offered Slim a small smile. "Thanks anyway. Before I go – I've been on the trail for hours, and I'm bone tired. Do you have a pot of coffee on, by chance?"
"No," Slim answered curtly, inwardly cursing his hasty response. He sounded tense, nervous... of course, that could all be in his head, since Mort didn't seem to really notice. "Sorry, Mort, we don't have any on right now. If we did, you'd be welcome to it."
"I don't doubt it. Thanks anyway." Mort backed his mare away from the house and waved tiredly. "I guess I won't be around for a while, since it looks like the thieves aren't anywhere nearby. I'll see you when this matter's all wrapped up, Slim."
Slim lifted a hand in goodbye, and, as he watched the lawman retreat from the yard, was filled with a gnawing hopelessness. Mort was their only chance at outside help, and now he was gone. Ordinarily, Slim would have relied heavily on Jess in a situation like this; but he wasn't sure what he could really ask of his friend now. Neither he nor Jess were sure what he was capable of, or what he could handle. Slim needed help. He needed Jess.
More than that, Slim realized, turning back to the house, he needed a miracle.
We're getting close! Completion is right around the corner! As always, reviews brighten my day and help me become a better writer, so please leave one if you'd like :)