Chapter Eight

It was so close his breath could touch it when he blew through the rounded hole his mouth made, yet with his body wrapped tighter than a Christmas present, the knife might as well be still stuck in Harper's pocket. Yet because it was so close, Dowling couldn't help but keep his eyes on it. In the lamplight it seemed to sparkle, a temptation as strong as if the glint came from an amber bottle held up to the sun, enough that his tongue drifted out of his mouth to give the corner of his lips a short lick. If his thirst was as strong as the desire to kill, he would be working his body against the hold to try to achieve the smallest taste, but wouldn't the fight be useless, since he knew there couldn't even be a drop to touch his tongue?

The need to sneeze made his body jerk, and with the reaction, he noticed his right arm had more flexibility than his left. Wiggling his fingers first, then the hand, he was able to roll his wrist over so that his palm could touch the rope, and with movements that were performed in tiny increments that made little sound, Dowling's arm followed the line until it switched positions. Getting what he wanted suddenly didn't seem so impossible after all. It felt like his shoulder was going to dislocate as he made the sharp bend, but just as his teeth were gritting at their tightest to ward off the grunt that was behind his tongue, his arm was released from the rope.

A smile wanted to flit across his lips, but he was still too far from a win to allow it to break into his cheeks. Sucking in his stomach to give him the ability to twist his body, Dowling stretched his arm to its full length, the fingers reaching for the tip of the knife blade, but it was too far to make a connection. Unable to stop the irritated rumble that rose out of his chest, Dowling balled his fist and punched his frustration into the corner of the neighboring bed. The knife bounced, and although the shift of its position didn't bring it closer, an idea was born, and this time, he did fully grin.

Opening his hand, Dowling dug his fingers into the quilt that covered the bed and tugged, the thick blanket first bunched in the middle around the knife, but then with a firmer pull, the bedding started to slide away from the mattress. And the knife was coming with it. As it reached the end he almost got too anxious and sent everything to the floor, but with a quick scramble of his fingers, Dowling touched the edge of the knife and refused to let go, even as the blade sunk into his thumb.

The blood trickled into his palm, and with the liquid aiding its direction, the knife found the wet center, its handle getting a firm wrap, and then with a pair of eyes set on the empty door, he brought the knife to his side. He knew it would take more than a few minutes to saw away at his binds, but even if it took all night and more of his blood drained out of his flesh it wouldn't matter. He wouldn't be satisfied until his hands were coated with another's blood. Jess Harper's. Because he still had to pay the hefty price that was on his brother's life.

.:.

"He's fallen asleep," Slim said quietly, watching as Jess' head sunk into his folded arms.

Jonesy chuckled as he pushed Jess' empty bowl away from a hand that still clutched a spoon. "I'd probably sleep like a baby if my belly was as full as his. You gonna keep him there? Andy's on the couch but we could set up a cot by the fireplace."

"No. I don't want to disturb him. He's more than exhausted. I'm surprised he even made it through each spoonful without keeling over."

"That's because Jess has extra fortitude when it comes to food," Jonesy said, but then he turned a more serious expression toward Slim. "Speaking of fortitude, yours is about run out. You should try to get some sleep yourself."

Slim shook his head, his hand rubbing the bandage on his shoulder. "I don't think so. He might not be a threat anymore, but I just don't feel at ease with Dowling in there."

"I understand," Jonesy answered, giving a nod to the boy that was wrapped in the afghan on the couch. "Why do you think I wouldn't let him bed down anywhere but where we can keep an eye out?"

"I sure wish it'd stop snowing," Slim said, his steps taking him in a slow walk to the door, the window and its white layer his focus. "I don't even want to know the number that's piled up out there."

"At this rate it could keep us locked in for a week or more, you think of that?"

"I've thought of it all, Jonesy. And none of it equals out to any good."

"Well, one thing's good. He's captured," Jonesy said, easing his frame into the rocking chair. "And since I don't rightly know how he'd get loose, I'm gonna get me some shuteye. You'd do well to do the same. Reconsider?"

"Maybe in a little while."

"Well, the coffee's still hot." Jonesy lowered his chin to rest against his palm. "Just be careful to not let the scent jump too close to Jess if you pour a cup. That boy's reflexes are something else."

"I know," Slim answered, thinking back to the previous morning when he caught Jess sleeping, but now that Jess' frame was cloaked with a pair of blankets that draped to the floor, it seemed like that memory had been created more than a year earlier.

The room grew silent, with only the crackle of the fireplace to compete with the blizzard's wail, and then a soft snore broke through, as Jonesy joined Jess and Andy in slumber. Since Slim could see little beyond the window, he pulled away from the icy pane and made the kitchen his quest, as the need for coffee's stout boost was increasing now that there was less to wiggle through his ears and pound against his skull. Filling a cup, Slim kept it at the farthest distance from Jess, but despite Jonesy's usually accurate warnings, this time, the fragrance might not have stirred the man if it was flowing like a waterfall right in front of him. When Slim put a spoon in it to prompt a quicker cooling and the odor was able to drift, not even a twitch could be seen on Jess' frame.

Pulling a chair away from the table near the kitchen door, Slim sat down, his eyes drooping the moment he was lowered, and he quickly put the cup to his lips, but before he could swallow what he had sipped, his lashes were making a rapid crash to close. This was the kind of battle that would only be won by sleep. His hand setting the cup to the counter's surface before it shattered on the floor, Slim's head found the crook of his arm, draped over the back of the chair, and the sigh through his lips brought a full drop into slumber before all of the air was passed through.

.:.

He didn't know the reason for the silence in the other room, but he dared hope. Completely freed from his binds, Dowling lifted his body from the bed, wincing as the bunk creaked at the release of his weight, but with the continued silence pouring through the door, he dared to hope even further. He tucked his palm around the knife's handle, his first step cautious as was the second, but the remaining to the door were done in a scurry, landing with his back against the wall as he gave a simple peek. He had been right. They were all asleep.

The only one he couldn't see was Sherman. He hadn't heard the door open and close to announce his departure to the barn to tend the stock, so Dowling could go beyond an assumption and say that he was in the kitchen, but what he was doing there would remain as a guess. If he wasn't tucked-in like the other three, then to reach the goal of revenge he could be the first one dropped, but if there was nothing but a dream behind his eyelids, then the only necessary blow could fully belong to Harper.

"As it should be," he mumbled with only enough sound to reach his own ears.

Dowling took his body away from the wall's shield, the open doorway now behind him, with nothing but silent space between him and Harper. He only had to make sure the silence remained until he pierced the flesh, where it would get broken by a deathly scream. He didn't fully intend to not breathe as he softly moved, but the air was held behind tight lips, and the final step with the knife poising for a strike made a rush of air spout through his nose, where it tickled the skin on the back of a neck.

Coffee might not have been able to lift his heavy eyelids, but coffee wasn't a threat. The man was. A reflexive arm rose before Jess' head snapped upright, the jab into his skin avoided by the block, but a precisely placed fist into a belly bowed Jess in half, and the knife was in a serious aim. Balling both fists, Jess swung upward and caught a chin, the sprawl backward into the kitchen stove making the hot top clang and Dowling's voice shriek, but it also put his open hand in perfect alignment with a coffee pot. It seared as the handle touched his palm, but he kept it in his clutch, swinging the pot forward to fling the simmering contents into Jess' face.

"Ahh!" Falling to his back with the recoil, Jess' eyelids were scrunched tight as his hands wiped the liquid away, but nothing could take away the heat that had flared into his skin and he rolled to his front, pressing his cheek against the cool floor.

"Jess!" Slim's shout seem to precede his arousal, as it was projected from his mouth before he could rise out of his chair, and with a similar response from his hand, he pulled the gun away from his hip. His aim went toward the outlaw, but there was something else coming for him, and his body was unable to lunge away from the airborne pot of stew.

He pulled the trigger as he was struck but the bullet wouldn't find any flesh, as its landing position was in the far wall. Covered in beef and potatoes, Slim stumbled backward, his foot snagging the chair to take him to his rear and as his hand lifted to wipe a sticky line away from his eyes, he realized the gun was no longer in his clasp, but stuck in a pile of stew on the floor.

"Now you're both going to die," Dowling said, bending down to find the loose gun, and his finger quickly found the trigger, with Slim's head directly on the other side of the barrel.

The blast shook the snow from the roof, the gurgling cry as loud as the greatest wind gust, leaving the interior of the house with a biting chill far worse than what was outside, for it was the chill of death. Rubbing the last droplets from his face, Jess was on his feet, his lips in a slight part as he looked at the man lying in a puddle of blood and then to the one who had downed him.

"Jonesy." Jess took the necessary steps, put his hand on his partner's arm and then hauled him to his feet. "You got him."

Smoke still curling out of the shotgun as he lowered it to the floor, Jonesy gave his head a slight shake as he pulled his eyes away from Dowling's body. "Well, it serves him right for ruining my leftovers. You two all right?"

"I reckon," Jess answered, his fingers touching the red marks on his face. "Dad-gum, I never thought I'd say this after what I went through, but some snow'd feel kinda nice right about now."

"No snowball throwing in the kitchen," Jonesy said, waving his hand over the floor. "I've already got a big enough mess to clean up. Imagine that fellow, turning my food into a weapon."

"It almost worked, too." Slim's eyes took on a twinkle as he wiped the stew off of his front. "But what he didn't know, I've been immune to it for years."

One face tried to scowl, but when Jess laughed and the sound matched with a youthful tone that broke the fearful tension that had settled in the house at the blizzard's beginning, Jonesy's lips spread upward, his own chuckle adding to the lighthearted music. But there was more fueling the sensation inside of each other than victory. The last snowflake had just made its landing, with the sunrise breaking through the clouds.

.:.

It had been warm, although Laramie's standards of warm were different than those in the deep south, but even in Wyoming, the temperature had risen enough that the snow was only left touching the highest peaks. Slim had taken his winter coat off by noon, its place on the peg by the door vacant once more, as he had moved it into the closet instead. Maybe it wouldn't be the last time he would use it before the season fully expressed its change, but not having it at an arm's length from the front door made the recent cold snap truly a thing of the past.

Setting his hat on his head as he exited the bedroom, Slim searched the room, the empty chair in front of the fireplace getting his longest attention before his stride took him into the kitchen where he knew one would be. "Where's Jess?"

"Where else?" Jonesy answered with a point to the outdoors. "Soaking up the sun."

"Don't tell me he's flat on his back, hat tipped just right to hide his eyes while a snore drifts out of his lips."

"It's that kind of soaking all right. I wish I could join him, but I've got a pound of potatoes yet to peel before dinner."

"Want any help?" Slim asked, only giving the bowl of potatoes a slight glance before his attention became fully focused on the window, searching for the one that rested somewhere on its other side.

Jonesy tapped the air in front of Slim's chest with a half-skinned potato. "That's a sure way of getting outta work."

Slim turned quickly back toward Jonesy, his eyebrows doubling their arc. "What is?"

"Trying to be nice. You offer to help out, but because I'm also nice, when you ask, I'll feel obligated to let you outta it."

"You think that's what I was doing?"

"I know so. Go on out there, Slim. If I can't handle something as simple as peeling potatoes, you might as well as let me out to pasture."

"Thanks, Jonesy, and in return, I won't complain if the potatoes are lumpy."

"All right," Jonesy said, the knife starting to work away at the other half of potato skin as Slim bolted through the door. "Wait a minute. When are my potatoes ever lumpy?"

Slim's laugh carried through the door with him, his steps coming upon Jess slowly, but he wasn't using a tip-toe approach, the sound out of his mouth after the chuckle was ended shifted to a simple whistle as his boots landed near Jess' outstretched pair. "You in there, Jess?"

An arm slowly lifted, a finger popping out of the closed fist to tip a hat away from a set of blue that sought the pair that was above him. "Hey, you're learning."

"Learning what?"

"Not to sneak up on a gunfighter that's wearing a gun on his hip," Jess answered, the finishing note being a slap with his palm against the butt of his gun.

"Only if he's sleeping, right?"

The hat returned to the position that fully shaded Jess' eyes. "Something like that."

"Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all. Just don't take all of the sun."

"I promise I'll share," Slim said, lowering to the ground, where the hard surface of the dirt didn't make his back complain, but the relaxing position brought a deep sigh out of his chest.

"Good. You got another promise in you, Pard?"

Slim lifted his head to place his eyes on Jess, but even if his partner couldn't see him behind the rim of his hat, he shrugged. "Like what?"

"That you won't snore too loud, because I aim to sleep from now until the sun sets without interruptions."

Slim grinned, his hat finding a similar drop over his face that Jess was wearing. "I promise. Anything else?"

"Yeah." Jess answered, his tone dropping to a deeper level, a sheer sign that he was drawing serious. "When that blizzard was coming at us, I know I shoulda listened to you and Jonesy. When am I ever gonna learn?"

"You want to know the answer to that?"

"I asked, didn't I?"

"Well, Jess," Slim answered, the pause that made his hand run across his chin giving him time to find the correct response, and when he found it, he nodded. "I suppose there's always going to be things for us to learn. I think you've found a good fit here where you can grow. And if in part of that I'm teaching you a thing or two, then I'm proud to fill that role."

"Dad-gum. Jonesy was right." Jess slowly shook his head, the imprint on his brain getting an extra punch as he remembered what he thought at the time was one of Jonesy's wisecracks about Slim finishing his bringing up years, but as it turned out, it was just plain wisdom.

"Right about what?"

"Nothing. Now what'd I say about no interruptions, I wanna sleep in the sun before it goes away."

"You were the one that brought it up."

"Oh yeah. Well, next time I'm gonna ignore one of your warnings, hogtie me first."

Slim yawned, as he folded his hands over his chest. "You sure about that?"

"Sure I'm sure. Now will you stop talking and let me sleep? Slim?" Jess rose to one elbow, his hat getting a high enough lift that he could see, but it wasn't his eyes that were needed, but his ears, as a lengthy snort rumbled through Slim's parted lips. "Dad-gum. I said not to snore. Oh well. I still got the sun and it's finally spring."