Chapter Seven
The gun was in his hand, the speed, Jess noted, was only slightly faster than the other Dowling's draw that he had faced, but this time, there was nothing to pull from his hip. But there was in his hip pocket. Taking his fingers around to his rear, Jess felt the blade and pulled up, the sound of the hammer that would precede the trigger's tug made as it exited the pocket. But the blast and the toss happened in the same instant.
Having an extra set of hands was all that saved Jess from certain death. The bullet's straight path to his heart was thwarted by the pair that hit his waist and pulled him to the floor, yet they couldn't prevent full penetration as the piece of lead skimmed a shoulder, the parting of fabric and skin making an instant line of red to form on both. The grimace of pain was erased when the opponent's gun fell at their feet, the scramble for the handle begun, but it was a long set of fingers that achieved victory, the sensation able to spread in two chests when the point rose upward to make Dowling's feet take an awkward step in reverse.
"You all right, Slim?" Jess asked, watching the blood start to drip to the floor from his partner's shoulder.
"Just a scratch," Slim replied, although if he would have tore his shirt further for a closer exam, the wound would have been better described as a cut, but not quite as deep as the one Dowling wore.
He worked the sleeve of his shirt up to rest at his elbow, the mark of the knife a deep stripe, and as he flexed his hand, the drops increased to a pour. "You could've cut my arm off, Harper."
"You're lucky that's all you got." Jess retrieved the knife from where it had fallen, its position making a quick return to his hip pocket. "I coulda gone for something a lot more vital."
"You'll wish you had, Harper," Dowling said, his left palm trying to douse the flow. "You did nothing but delay your death."
"Quit your threats," Slim commanded, making the gun in his hand also pronounce firm authority as he aligned it with Dowling's face. "Your position of height just changed with the loss of your iron. Now I'm on top."
"I can hear you squabbling, so I know you all ain't dead in there," Jonesy called as he leaned out of the bedroom. "Either of you need patching?"
"A little," Jess replied, knowing that the older man wouldn't be coming with empty hands, but with bandages in one and the proper medical bottle in the other.
Andy bounded from the bedroom, his youthful legs beating Jonesy into the kitchen by a lengthy stretch and by his exclaim, Jonesy would know before any man was in his sight which one his patient would be. "Slim!"
"How bad is it?" Jonesy asked, but with one step into the kitchen, he knew the outlaw wore it the worst, for the blood underneath him was a growing puddle. Slim had only produced a line of dots on the floor.
"See to Dowling, first." Slim made a motion with his hand for the outlaw to back up and drop into a chair, and once the backside was placed, Jonesy began to douse the deep slice of skin.
"Now he's trying to burn me up," Dowling complained with a bitter toss from his lips.
"Quiet," Slim said, the firmness in his voice making the mouth across from him straighten into a hard line, a wince not even visible when Jonesy took the strips of cloth and made several tight passes over the wound.
"Now it's your turn, Slim," Jonesy said, his hands tearing another strip to hold it in front of Slim.
"It's not that bad, Jonesy."
"It's your turn, Slim," Jonesy repeated, taking his gaze to lock into Slim's, and after a few seconds of silence between them, Slim nodded.
"Take the gun, Jess." Slim passed the weapon to his partner, their bodies shifting positions at the exchange so that the point remained at the highest level of threat and then Slim's backend found a chair.
"Now that I see you like that," Dowling began, his sneer's entire focus on Jess, "I know what my brother's last moment without pain looked like."
"I said quiet," Slim snapped the interjection, but without a glance from the outlaw, this time the command was ignored.
"Harper, you might think you're on the right side of things now, but that could change. Anytime. Remember that. In case you've forgotten, I'm not going anywhere." Dowling's eyes shifted toward the window, as did all of theirs. He was right. The storm's rage hadn't let up since it started and there was no way to know how much longer the wind was going to build the snow into mountainous drifts all around them. Even if the last flake fell out of the sky at that moment, there would be no hauling the outlaw to the sheriff's office come daylight. The gun might have felt good in Jess' hand, but they were still stuck, literally, together in the house.
"Get some rope, Andy," Slim said when Jonesy made a knot of the bandage that wrapped his shoulder. "We can at least keep him immobile."
"Where'll be best to put him?" Jess asked at Andy's return with a coil in his hand.
"One of our bunks will do," Slim answered, giving a point to the bedroom.
Jess' hands ran up each of his arms, ending with a squeeze of both shoulders. "He can have mine. Just don't give him all my blankets. I'm still so blamed cold I could wrap myself up in flames and still shiver."
"That'll likely last for awhile," Slim said as he stood up, his hand reaching out to haul the outlaw to his feet. "Come on, Dowling. I can certainly think of less comfortable places you'll wind up. You should have nothing to complain about getting a bed to lie in while we wait the rest of the storm out."
Despite Slim's hold on his left arm, Dowling forced his feet to stop when their path became crossed with his dead brother and his eyes took a sharp turn below. "There's one thing that will still get me to grumble. And then there's how he got it."
Slim gave a firm jerk with his hand. "This is the last time, Dowling. Pipe down or a nicely rolled bandana will be in store. Get moving."
He sat Dowling in the middle of Jess' bed and then as the rope went around his waist twice, Slim's hand shoved against the man's chest to drop his entire body against the mattress. With a wrap that included the bed's frame, Slim made several loops from his chest down to his legs, leaving the arms pressed tightly to his sides and then made a knot at his waist. As there was still a length of rope to work with, Slim pulled it to the end, the feet getting a second circling and then Slim lowered his knee to the floor.
"Lace him up tight, Slim," Jonesy said from his position leaning against the doorframe. "We don't wanna think about him more than we hafta."
"He's snug," Slim answered, the finishing knot at the foot of the bunk getting an extra tap with his palm.
"Good." Jonesy nodded, his mouth still set at its grimmest as he led the different sized strides out of the bedroom, coming to a stop near the fireplace. "And then there's him."
"Slim," Andy started timidly, trying to look in any direction but down, "you're not going to leave him there, are you?"
"No. We'll take the body to the shed," Slim answered, motioning for Jess to go to his opposite end.
"It's uglier than a pack of grinning wolves out there, Slim," Jonesy warned, peering through the window. "Don't you take a wrong step or you might get buried up to your ears, you hear?"
"I'll watch out for him," Jess promised, getting a firm nod in response from Jonesy's head.
"And I'll watch out for you. I'm not letting you get lost in a blizzard a second time."
"Didn't I make it here blindly the first time?"
Slim swung his hand around, the finger going into Jess' chest. "Yes, but barely."
"Usually I say close don't count, but this time it does." Jess grinned, slapping Slim's hand away, and then he reached for his boots that had been perched by the fireplace. "Come on, Slim. Let's get it done."
Even if the storm would have allowed it, there was no need to speak as they performed the duty, breaking through the deep snow to the dry shelter where they left the body. The return would be just as quiet, with both men locked in their thoughts. Jess' was at the most tender as it was his bullet that had made the job necessary, but there would be a slight uplift in their moods when Slim tripped as he hit the buried step of the porch. Reaching down, they were both able to fill their hands with something other than white.
"I found all of our guns in the snow," Slim said as they reentered the house. "Got my pistol back where it belongs, the rifles, and here's your shotgun, Jonesy."
"Good," Jonesy answered, stepping around the fireplace with an apron in place. "That'll make me rest a mite easier. Oh, Jess, it's not exactly the proper time as it's the middle of the night, but do you think you could eat anything?"
"It ain't just my skin that's growling, but I reckon I gotta bear living inside of me by the way I'm roaring."
"That's a good sign you're past recovery's road," Jonesy said, already expecting that Jess would be hungry as he had put the stew pot back on the heat to boil, "although I kinda doubted you'd end up leaving your rough side out in the snow. What about you, Andy? You ready to do some grazing?"
"You know I could," Andy answered, taking his normal seat at the table as Jess dropped into his, the relief working its way through their lips in a nearly unison sigh.
"Then I'll fill you both up, or will that be three, Slim?"
"Sure, I'll take another bowl."
"And don't forget the coffee," Jess shouted over his shoulder while Jonesy was scooping.
"It's already poured."
"So it is." Jess smiled, the hot liquid coming up to his lips. "I reckon that's the best cup you've ever made, Jonesy."
"I guess you oughta get stuck out in a storm more often. Makes you appreciate the finer things."
"I dunno about that, but I know one thing. I ain't gonna go tromping out in it again."
Jonesy set the bowl in front of Jess and then planted both hands against his hips. "You gonna move on back to Texas?"
"No, why?"
"You'll be tromping out in it again."
Jess shook his head, the frown fully etched across his entire face. "I reckon."
"You'll get used to it, Jess," Andy said, his eyes taking on its first twinkle since the blizzard started. "By this time next year, you'll be just like a Wyoming native like us."
"Eat up, Andy," Slim said, his mouth twitching with more than a smirk. "You're scaring our drifter."
"At least we know what frightens him," Jonesy said, another chuckle making its way around the table, but soon there were only the noises of eating as bowls were licked clean.
"Dad-gum," Jess said, the spoon in his hand tapping at the inside of his coffee cup with an extra hard jingle as he dumped in the sugar. "I've eaten a heaped up bowl and swallowed three full cups. Am I ever gonna stop shaking?"
"You're body will regulate soon enough, Jess," Jonesy answered, standing next to him with a ladle full of stew, but the extra helping was shaken away.
"I hope so. I feel like a newborn calf trying to stand up for the first time. Nothing but wobbles everywhere."
"Want me to fetch a fresh blanket from the bedroom?" Andy asked, his spoon still dipping into his bowl to bring a portion of stew to his mouth.
"Nah," Jess answered with a shake of his head. "You keep eating. I'll go get one. 'Sides, I wanna make sure our guest ain't chaffing against his binds."
He entered the bedroom, the growl behind Dowling's sealed lips being given a louder punch where it rolled around his throat, but Jess' muscles didn't twitch in response, even as the eyes followed his every move. Checking to make sure Dowling's position hadn't changed and then feeling the satisfaction that he hadn't moved an inch, Jess took an extra blanket from the stack in the corner, but before he took another step, he grabbed a second and a third.
"Maybe another pair of socks, too," Jess muttered to himself, his drawer coming open with a tug and then he tossed them to Slim's bed. Sitting down, he pulled the boots from his feet with a stout jerk and then wiggled his toes around the extra layer. Putting his boots back on took more than one loud stamp against the floor, but once in place the blankets returned to his hold and giving another look to Dowling's prone position, Jess' steps took him back to the fireplace. But while he took out more than what he entered with, one thing would get left behind.
While seated on Slim's bed, working the extra socks to his feet, the knife fell out of Jess' pocket, and the blade, taking on a shimmer from the nearby lamp, made an outlaw's dark eyes grow wide.