More than One

Daisy's hands plunged into the soapy water, the white bubbles changing to pink as the water below the sudsy billows turned a murky red. She frowned when she lifted the shirt out of the water, as the stain was still as crimson as when she had first put it in her clasp. Grabbing the washboard, Daisy worked the wad of fabric up and down, the water taking on a darker hue as the blood began to separate, and after scrubbing until her fingers hurt, she gave the front a close look. She could still see the ring, but there was enough promise in its reduction to know that her labor would pay off. The other one, however, she wouldn't even make the attempt to wash the blood out of the blue, for it had been hit twice.

Wiping an arm over her forehead where too many loose strands of hair dangled, Daisy sighed, but even with the releasing of the air through her lips, the tension wouldn't go with it. That was to be expected. She wasn't made out of iron and steel like her boys were, but she was getting closer. Or so she had thought. With a day like this one that had popped over the horizon, Daisy had to wonder if she had grown an inch at all while living in the west. She certainly didn't feel like it now.

Taking her hands out of the water, she gave them a scrutinizing glare. Yes, they were still trembling. Professionalism took over when the surgical knife probed for bullets, and once found, her skill made them pull out with ease, but during the points of battle that counted on someone else's expertise, and now later, she shook. There was no need to put one of those damp palms over her chest to feel the other part of her body in motion, the rapid thrum of her heart, for Daisy could feel her pulse in multiple points, the hardest, there in her temples as it literally pounded. But that could easily be explained on the fact that she could still hear the gunshots.

The first round of gunfire came from the top of the hill behind a trio of men that pursued the westbound stagecoach. The wheels had barely circled the corner when the shotgun rider lost his life. Then the bullets began to fly toward the house as Slim and Jess let their rifles crack, one taking shelter behind the trough, the other at the water barrel that stood at the corner of the house. Neither object would prove to be sufficient, however, for Slim's body hit the dirt, his chin crashing hard enough that the ground scraped a deep enough trench that blood spouted to the surface. And then there was Jess. A bullet piercing his shoulder should have sent him in a similar fall as his partner, but it brought him upright, his determination stronger than the pain, and he made his aim for the incoming riders, dropping a pair with a consecutive pull on his trigger. But the one man left also had a perfect bead, and once hit a second time, Jess flopped into the trough, the only thing preventing his drowning was that the stagecoach came to a stop right beside it, and Frankie dropped to the ground to check Jess' fate. He was alive. And like Slim, he would feel the probing instrument search for the menacing pieces of lead, lying on the kitchen table.

She could have lost them both in the single span of a minute. And for no other reason than robbing a stagecoach that was carrying a few thousand dollars, that fortunately, remained with the driver. The lives, however, cost much more than that sum. Even the two outlaws that were killed might have carried a higher price tag. Daisy never gave much thought where bounties were concerned, but in her mind, the one that fled after Jess' stout splash, a hefty dollar sign could be slapped onto his name.

"But I know that's not what they're thinking about," Daisy said aloud, turning her eyes toward the house. She yearned to feel the security, like the rock that had been in place when the extracted bullets hit the pan, one after the other. Perhaps this was the main reason why her limbs were still aflutter, and not the repeating memory, for they were no longer in her care.

"I gotta go after him," Jess had said, watching from his flat position against the kitchen table as Daisy bandaged Slim's upper half.

"You'll do no such thing," scolded Daisy, her hands pausing mid-knot, but she knew by the blaze that roared in Jess' eyes that there was nothing she could say that would tame those flames. Yet she tried. "Frankie's on his way to Laramie with the bodies. I'm sure once he stops at the sheriff's there will be a posse formed."

"A posse will take too long," Slim said, his words along with his nod agreeing with his partner meant that there would be no arguing about whether they stayed or went, but Jess had more to toss in front of them if there had been need for a further clinch.

"And what if Mike woulda been here and not in school? He coulda been a victim even worse than we were. I feel pretty good now that I ain't wearing extra hardware. I reckon since neither hit me in my seat I can sit a saddle. After what he's done, I don't want him getting away."

That had been an easy thing for Daisy to agree with, but now that Slim and Jess were gone, she wished they were inside the house, safe from additional gunplay. She knew that if they caught up with the running outlaw, there could be more bullets searching for their flesh for her medical instruments to dig for. And more shirts to possibly mend and wash. The one in her hands she had taken as far as it would go, and other than requiring a needle and thread to stitch the hole, the only thing left for it to do was to dry.

She dipped her hand in her pocket for a pair of clothespins, but the sound of a horse on the road took her eyes higher, her brows immediately knitting together. Her boys' return would be as a pair, not as a single. She saw the outline of the man and the shirt and clothespins dropped to her feet, her hand coming up to rest against her mouth. The recognition was easy to make as what she viewed behind her eyelids hadn't changed since she had first seen him. The last of the three. The one that dropped Jess.

Even if her legs worked, there was no sense running for the house. Daisy stood still, watching as the man rode into the yard, his release from the saddle done with little glance in return. He seemed to be without a bullet's mark, which made her trepidation rise even higher, the possibility that his freedom meant that Slim and Jess had gone underground without a shovel. He looked toward the barn, corral, and then he entered the house, and then Daisy was able to create a short breath of relief to seep out of her lips when he stomped back out through the kitchen door, for it would erase her worst fear. At least, for the moment.

"Since they're not here, I guess that means they're after me," he said, not bending his neck to view Daisy's response of a nod or a shake, but it wouldn't have mattered if he had, for she gave him nothing in return. "No problem. I'm sure they'll be back. I'll just wait right here."

.:.

"Jess?" Slim asked, his body leaning forward in the saddle, but he wasn't bowed nearly as low as Jess was. "You going to stay upright?"

"Dunno. You?"

"I'm managing," Slim answered, trying to straighten up when Jess turned his eyes onto his slumped frame, but the pain prevented the upward movement. "But I'll manage a lot better if we can get our hands on him."

Jess' hand moved to his side, his fingers not needing direction to where to land, as they immediately connected to his iron. "Ain't my hands that wanna piece of him."

"He must've gone into the stream," Slim said a moment later, his drop out of the saddle bringing a groan through his lips. "I can see his trail in, but nothing out. North or south do you think?"

"Either. I'll take north." Jess turned his mount into the creek, the position that he put the head the same that had come out of his mouth, while Slim reconnected to leather and shifted to the south.

Both passageways in the water could conceal a horse's hooves for a mile in one direction, two in the opposite. Jess set for the shorter route, suspecting the outlaw had done the same, but when he reached the end of the line and there wasn't an exit sign, he quickly shifted his horse southward, but it wouldn't be a liquid path that he would follow, but a brand new one.

He intended on meeting Slim just short of the bridge, for if the outlaw went as far as he could, the steep banks upstream from the road's crossing would prompt the necessary outing of the water. Riding harder than he should, Jess felt every jolt in the wound in his left shoulder and the one that still bled, in his ribs. Even though his hand wanted to rub his side to ease the ache, his attention was diverted to the ground, and although pain existed, it was immediately forgotten. There was a set of tracks in the dirt, and if it belonged to who he figured it did, he didn't like the direction the horse was taking. Before he could take his guess into something more accurate, he had to find Slim, and if he wasn't mistaken, he should be right around the corner.

Spotting his partner, Jess pulled up on the reins, his head bobbing low, but was still able to connect blue to blue. "You find his trail?"

"Yeah. He came out about a quarter-mile back. I've been on it since."

"I was afraid of that," Jess said, his hand balling into a hard fist, "because I came across some tracks too, and I reckon they're from one and the same."

"Where's he headed?"

"Slim, these tracks take him right back to the house."

"Daisy." It was produced in unison, but even though it was done in matching whispers, it had enough strength to push each body higher into the saddle, and for Jess the rise was greatly needed, for he had been two short seconds away from having a mouthful of dirt as his midday snack.

.:.

She had been in his presence for over an hour, but had obtained little knowledge, for his mouth had remained mostly sealed. Daisy's would be the same, seated at the kitchen table while he stood at the window with a hard stare beyond its pane, but instead of words passing through her lips, she was more prone to produce a sigh, the last one coming out more audible than the ones before, carrying with it a distinct quiver.

"It shouldn't be much longer, Ma'am," he said, his eyes still straight ahead, but instead of his hands being empty, his right was filled with iron. "If they know how to follow a trail, they should know by now I came right back here."

"Why did you?" Daisy asked, although it was more closely delivered as a frantic blurt.

"Butch, I don't rightly care about. It was his idea that we chase down the stagecoach to lift it of its pack anyway. And a bad idea that it turned out to be. But Collin..." He had to pause to clear his throat, and Daisy understood the sound to mean that there was tearful emotion inside of him, all the more cause that he was entertaining a thought of revenge. "My little brother didn't deserve to die like that. I want to know who killed him."

It was Jess. But Daisy would have never said that out loud even if the gun was pointed directly at her, and she had a feeling that it would get turned on her. And the time of the changing position of his weapon was about to come, for just as the sound of hooves on the hillside reached her ears, they landed in the man's too. They were coming. She stood, her legs surprisingly solid underneath, her neck bending toward the glass to find the image, but it was obvious that they were not making their entry by the road.

"Outside," he said, the gun taking a more dangerous route as its barrel waved toward Daisy's frame. "I want them to know right away how serious I am."

Daisy was obliging, but she was pushed through the door when her foot paused at the threshold, the rough slap of her shoe against the hard ground as she caught the stumble before it took her whole body into the dirt. Expecting her next step could produce a fall if he continued to be at her back, his hand wrapped around her upper arm and began to pull. Yet when the two men that had left their mounts tied to a tree crept around the barn, guns ready to fire, he came to an abrupt stop, his own ammunition readied, and every single one was in threat's vicious form.

She couldn't help but cry when she saw them, and Jess' body held her attention longer, for the red stain on the clean shirt he had buttoned over the bandage across his middle was quite clear to see. "Jess!"

"Hush up, Lady," he jabbed the gun into her ribs, and then a filthy palm stretched across her mouth. She would have muted herself if the hand wasn't in place, for the tip of the gun just above her apron tie was reason enough to obey.

"You're making a big mistake," Jess said, his legs wanting to bolt toward the man that held Daisy, but they only moved a short pace, mostly because he had grown so weak, they were close to collapsing underneath him.

The fingers clamped tighter against Daisy's mouth when she produced a whimper, and a long leg stretched forward, but the command was loud. "That's far enough. Now your guns. Put them on the ground."

Two irons hit the dirt with separate thuds as Slim narrowed his eyes, the sharp gaze that he threw the outlaw like the invisible arrow that was piercing his flesh. "What do you want?"

"You're straight and to the point. I'll be the same. I saw Butch go down, but like I told the old woman, I don't care about him. But I missed the fatal pull that was Collin's. Which one of you did it?"

The voice was strong, the grit like an actual stone was striking another. "I did."

"Then step forward," he said, the gun moving away from Daisy's side, the point aligning with Jess' chest. "Because this is all for you."

The hammer was pulled back as Jess took the step, but his leg didn't share the same force as what had projected from his voice. It started with the buckling of his knee, but he was too weak to catch his fall, landing on the ground with a grunt that took all of the air out of his chest.

The gun hand was momentarily still as the man behind it was stunned at his target hitting dirt before he pulled the trigger. He leaned forward, checking for a sign of life, and when he found it, he repositioned his aim, but his eyes had been too long off of another to catch her movement.

With the bucket of dissolved soap close by, the washboard quickly came in Daisy's hand, the whack against his arm stout, but it wasn't strong enough to topple him. It made him twirl, removing the target from Jess' head, but the rapid switch was coming toward Daisy.

All he needed was one second, and it was granted as the man turned, and Slim jumped for his gun, the handle going into his palm. Its rise was done without precise aim but he knew where it would land. Squeezing the trigger, Slim put the man in the dirt, the flow of blood enough sign that the bullet hit his most vital.

"He's dead," Slim said, his long legs spanning over the limp frame to reach Daisy's trembling arms, his hand immediately wrapping around her waist to pull her close. "It's all right now, Daisy. It's all right."

She sobbed into his shoulder, but her wet eyes had to seek a different set of blue. "What about Jess?"

"I think he's just hit the should've-been-resting wall."

Daisy nodded, the smile able to fit into her cheeks. "Come on, Slim. Let's get him into bed."

"What happened?" Jess asked, feeling his body lift from the ground and as the question momentarily went unanswered it was repeated with a harder pound when he was laid on his bunk.

"I gunned him down," Slim replied, leaning against the wall, for his own fatigue was starting to press heavily against his frame.

Jess put a finger into his chest. "How'd you do that when he was gonna do the same to me?"

"Daisy took matters into her own hands. Or at least she took the scrubbing board in hand and gave him a solid smack."

"Dad-gum, Daisy." Jess beamed, his hand getting a soft squeeze when Daisy slid hers into his palm. "I reckon I ain't gonna be the only one with a reputation around here anymore."

"Oh, Jess, really."

"It's the truth, Daisy," Jess said, his mouth still spread apart as he looked up at Slim. "What do you say, Pard?"

"I think so," Slim answered, bringing Daisy's eyes upward to find his.

"Slim, you're looking almost as peaked as Jess. You better get in bed, too. My goodness, boys, when will you ever learn to rest when you're hurt?"

"I reckon you wanna hear me say right now. But I ain't gonna lie. Probably never."

She shook her head as she pulled her hand out of Jess' clasp to run her fingers across his jaw. "I'd be foolish to try to change either one of you."

"I reckon it'd be wrong of me to not say it. Thanks for saving my life, Daisy." Jess pressed his lips to her temple while another set caressed her cheek.

Her eyes grew moist as she felt their love more than through their kisses. "And thank you, Slim, for saving mine."