There a Hero Lies

Chapter One

Slim

I glanced around the abandoned L-shaped building where we were trapped.

The peculiar little south-facing cabin backed up against a mountain. Only three of its six sides had any kind of opening. The bur oak front door was solid, except for a six-inch-by-six-inch hinged square in the center about five and a half feet off the floor, for peeping and shooting. A small window flanked the door on each side, looking out onto a weathered porch with splintered poles holding up a dilapidated overhang. A larger window on the wall on the west side of the main room was shuttered. There were no windows on any of the other walls. Just a second door, locked and barred from the inside, in the part of the structure that jutted out to make a short but wide leg of the "L" shape. Who builds a house like that? But I was glad for their unusual method. It made it easier to defend when we only had to worry about bandits or bullets trying to get in from the front. And that leg area to the side was safe from stray shots, so it was there that I'd put Andy.

My little brother huddled on the floor in a corner, his knees drawn up to his chest, his arms crossed over them and his face burrowed into his sleeves. I knew he was trying hard not to cry and doubted he was successful. But he was sure quiet about it. I had tried to get his 15-year-old friend Daniel Mellray to move to the same corner, but the kid was being obstinate, in shock actually. I couldn't blame him, after what he'd done. And I didn't have time to argue or coax. So I let him sulk in the opposite corner from Andy. He was safe there. Just would've made it easier to keep an eye on them both if they were sitting right beside each other. Maybe Daniel was too ashamed to get near anyone, or I guess he might've figured Andy wouldn't want him close at that time, after what had happened. And if that's what he thought, he was probably right.

At the front window to the right of the door, Sheriff Mort Cory stood, rifle in hand, trying to catch a glimpse of movement whenever he could. I took my place again at the left window. Since we couldn't be sure of exactly where those two sidewinders were now, only their general direction, I fired when I thought there might be a chance of hitting one of them. As I raised my sixgun again, I caught sight of that crimson stain on the door, chest high and descending in a streak to within a couple of feet of the floor where it angled a bit to the right for another foot lower. I felt my heart skip a beat. I swallowed hard. Then I looked again across to the smaller part of the house at Jonesy.

He sat on the floor not far from Andy, concentrating on the task required of him, and I don't think it would've been possible for him to frown any harder than what he was. Or to have more worry show in his eyes than what was already there. And it wasn't just because we were pinned down. It was because he had the worst job of us all. He had to try to keep the man lying there alive.

That man being my best friend.

Jess was the only one of us that had taken a hit. And it couldn't have been a simple through and through in the arm. No. It had to be a slug in the upper right part of his chest. He was barely hanging on. Going in and out of consciousness, in terrible pain when he was awake, from both that chunk of hot lead still in him, and from Jonesy pressing on the wound to try to control the bleeding.

The rest of us were in emotional, if not physical, pain. But one person bore a burden so heavy I worried it might do him in as surely as that bullet might ultimately take Jess's life. It was the one with the look of horror that never left his face. It was the kid. Daniel. The one who had, in fact, shot Jess.

Mort

It was a nice day for Jess and me to ride back from Cheyenne. We'd both had to testify at a trial there. Everything in court the afternoon before went smooth, as expected, and we'd got an early start on the ride home. Headed out right after a sunrise breakfast. With just a once-in-a-while rest and graze for the horses and a quick stop for lunch, we were making good time toward getting home. It was an easy ride, full of pleasant conversation and some joshing between us now and then.

For all the world, I never could have imagined that I'd find an ex-gunslinger to be counted among my best friends. Not just a friend. The boy was becoming more and more like a son to me. At least that was the feeling I had toward him. And I wasn't sure, but I thought he was beginning to look at me as somewhat of a father. Slim told me he was happy to see it too, because Jess hadn't had a pa since shortly after he'd turned 15. Been entirely on his own since that young age, without any family at all except for a sister he hadn't seen since before the war. And then he'd got word a while back that she'd died, down there in their home state of Texas.

That puzzled me for a while, since one time Jess said something about being one of eight kids. Seemed strange that the boy could have lost both parents and seven siblings in less than a decade. It was another day when we'd been riding, just the two of us, when Jess mentioned his family in a spontaneous way, after I'd noted that a new family had moved to town, a big one, with five kids.

"That ain't so big," he said, real quiet like. "My folks… had eight."

I noticed there was almost a tremor in his voice on the words 'had' and 'eight' and a brief pause, even in such a short sentence. He didn't say anymore about them or much of anything else for the rest of that ride. And with the way the muscle in his jaw was twitching and his hands were clenching the reins a lot tighter than usual or necessary, I decided not to ask anything at the time, figuring I might bring it up again later.

But when I'd mentioned the big Harper family to Slim, he'd been surprised that Jess had said so much as a word about them, and then he warned me, "Don't ask him about his family, Mort. He can't talk about 'em. Hurts too much." I'd raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing further. And finally, sometime after that, Slim filled me in about the Bannisters' raid on the Harper home. I never heard anything that made me so mad in all my born days. And it sure gave me a heap of understanding about that short fuse Jess Harper carries. And, conversely, about his extreme patience and kindness toward children. Slim said he'd lost four younger siblings. I knew it would take a heck of a lot from a young'un to set Jess off. And I've never seen it happen.

We were about two miles outside of Laramie when we heard the gunshots coming from the direction of the old deserted Franklin cabin. Jess and I hightailed it over the rise, pulling up and taking cover as we assessed the situation.

As soon as we saw that SR painted on the side, we both recognized the buckboard as the one from Sherman Ranch. That meant Slim or Jonesy was in the cabin, maybe both and maybe Andy with them. It was all I could do to keep Jess from charging in right then. We talked it over quick and decided one of us had to get inside and find out what was going on. The other would provide cover. Jess, being more skilled with a Colt and every other type of gun than any man I've ever met, was the likely choice for the firepower. We couldn't see the sidewinders themselves, as they had good concealment, but Jess positioned himself where he could get the best possible aim toward the location where the owlhoots seemed to be. I sneaked around to the side of the building and called to whoever was in the cabin. Slim responded. When Jess opened up, I ran for the porch. Slim had the door cracked and pulled it open as I got there. Soon as I scooted inside, he slammed it behind me.

The four of them were in there. Slim, Jonesy and the two boys. Slim gave a brief explanation that they'd been minding their own business, driving back home after a supply trip to Laramie and then over to pick up Andy's friend, when out of the blue these two wildmen began charging down the hill straight toward them, hollering curses and drawing their weapons. The Sherman bunch happened to be near the old cabin, and knowing they couldn't outrun men on horseback, they sought the cover of the small house. No sooner had they got inside than the pair of assailants got close enough to start the lead flying.

"Any idea who they are?" I asked.

"Nope." The tall rancher shook his head. "And no idea what they want."

I took my place at a small window next to the door. Slim positioned himself at the other.

"Where's Jess?" He tried to peer out the window and ducked back fast when a slug pinged the frame.

"Knowing him, he's probably trying to circle around behind those sidewinders." I cast a quick check outside as best I could.

"Not sure that's possible, Mort. And out there, he'll become a target himself. Might be better to get him in here."

Andy

I first got to know Daniel at school. He hadn't been around for long. His family just moved in recently to a little place not far from town. They'd come from a small city in Nebraska to open a new store in Laramie, and they didn't know anything about frontier livin'. But Daniel… boy, was he ever set on learnin' about guns. I wish to high heaven─sorry, Ma, I prob'ly shouldn't say that─but I sure do wish I never would'a told him about how Jess used to be a gunfighter. From that time on, he kept wantin' to come out to our place. He said it was to hang out with me, but I know it was really so he could see Jess. And every time he did, Daniel had this look on his face, kind of like awe.

He followed Jess around whenever he could, watchin' him real close, especially tryin' to catch a glimpse of his sidearm now and then. He asked all kinds of questions about guns, and Jess gave him polite but short answers. I could tell it made Jess uncomfortable to talk about weapons with Daniel 'cause he didn't know him or his family. Once, when Daniel asked about Jess's gunfightin', Jess got a real stern look on his face and said, "We ain't talkin' 'bout nothin' like 'at." He kept his voice even and quiet, but it had a tone that meant 'Don't ever bring this subject up again,' even though he didn't actually say that. And Daniel didn't.

But then he begged Jess to teach him to shoot. And Jess wouldn't do it. Said that was up to Daniel's pa. And Daniel argued that his pa didn't know how either. Jess just shrugged. "Well, ya ain't gonna learn it from me," he said and walked away.

One day, though, Jess had to grab a rifle to shoot a cougar that was stalkin' toward the horses in the corral, and Daniel watched every move he made, like he was studyin' or somethin'. And after Jess took that big cat down─with one shot, of course─he leaned the carbine against the barn for a minute. Well, Daniel picked it up and cocked it. Whoo boy! Made Jess madder than a wet hen. He grabbed the gun back and gave Daniel a talkin'-to that almost burnt his ears off.

"I just want to prove to you that I'd be good with a gun, Mr. Harper," Daniel had said. "I want to show you that you can trust me."

Well, you know Jess. He's got a soft spot in his heart for kids. Me especially, I s'pose, but not just me. All kids. So he settled right down and explained things to Daniel in a calm way about not handlin' firearms "unless ya been well and proper trained," as Jess put it. So I thought that was the end of Daniel and guns. Until that day in the cabin.

If I close my eyes I can see it all again, the way things happened. When those crazy gunmen came at us, Slim steered the wagon to a halt in the front yard and got the guns we keep under the seat of the buckboard when we go somewhere. He held onto the rifle himself and handed the shotgun to Jonesy as we all ran for the cabin. Once we got inside, Slim was gazin' out a front window, his forty-five in his hand, and he set the rifle down in the corner. Daniel was lookin' at it, even started toward it.

"I can help, Mr. Sherman," he said, reachin' for the gun.

"Leave it be!" Slim yelled. "Stay low in that other part of the house!"

Jonesy was at the other window with the shotgun. So I took hold of Daniel's sleeve and pulled him along with me over where Slim told us to go. We were sittin' there on the floor when Sheriff Cory shouted from outside. And then slick as a whistle he was inside with us, and talkin' to Slim about Jess. Jonesy moved over to stay with Daniel and me. His back was hurtin' him somethin' fierce from runnin' to the house. And with Slim at one window and Mort at the other, he was stayin' out of their way.

Then Slim said Jess had signaled that he was gettin' ready to move toward the cabin. "Gotta cover him," Mort said. Slim moved to the door and opened the little shootin' port in it. He pointed his Colt out that little openin' and cracked the door, ready to swing it wide to let Jess in. Mort was at the window, and they both started firin' out towards the southwest. That meant the gunmen were over in that area and Jess must be anglin' in from the southeast, away from where they had their guns pointed.

Before I knew what was happenin', Daniel jumped up and ran to the front of the house. He picked up the rifle and cocked it and stood right smack dab in front of that window on the other side of the door, the one Slim had just left, and stuck the gun out through the broken glass. Only he didn't aim southwest. He pointed that barrel straight ahead.

I've heard rifle shots before. Plenty of 'em. But that one… The sound of Daniel firin' that rifle is somethin' that's gonna haunt me for a long time. So will the look on Slim's face.

Oh, I've seen my brother mad. But I've never seen a look like that. The way he glared as he snatched the rifle from Daniel's hands, flingin' him to the floor to get him out of the line of fire. Kind of a combination of rage and disbelief and sorrow, all mixed together. He hollered at Daniel to stay down and get back over with me. So Daniel crawled his way back to the side-jut of the cabin, back to where Jonesy and me were. And it wasn't a full minute later that I understood what put that sorrowful part of the look on Slim's face. When Jess made it into the house and collapsed.

Soon after, there we were, sittin' on the floor beside a stretched out Jess, with Jonesy tryin' to keep his blood inside him.

It was hard for me to keep from bawlin' 'cause I'd noticed the look between Jonesy and Slim when they saw that hole in Jess's chest. I raised my head and looked over at Daniel. "You shot him!" I hissed. My voice must'a sounded like Slim's face looked 'cause I couldn't hardly accept what had happened either. But really, I reckon I did know. And it was scarin' me and makin' me mad and breakin' my heart all at the same time.

Tears started slidin' down my cheeks, and my voice was shakin'. And I know it wasn't very loud, but it was enough that Daniel heard it all right, even with me bein' on Jess's left side and Daniel in the other corner on the opposite wall, far to Jess's right. "Daniel, you shot Jess!"

I glanced down again at my second big brother. Jess was kinda pantin', and I was startled 'cause his eyes were open and lookin' right at mine. For just a few seconds. Then they closed tight and he groaned loud, 'cause Jonesy had pressed down harder. Then he blacked out again. I was glad. When he was unconscious he didn't feel the hurt so much. I settled back into my corner and put my head down on my arms, not even carin' then who knew I was cryin', or how bad my words might have made Daniel feel.

Jonesy

I just knew that friend of Andy's was gonna be trouble. Knew it as soon as our boy started hangin' out with that rapscallion. He's two, almost three, years older than Andy, and they have nothin' in common. Daniel had been a city boy. Doesn't know a thing about ranchin'. He can't ride or hunt or swim. He didn't ever take to Andy's critters. And he didn't seem near as smart or interested in school as Andy. Right from the first, I didn't see any reason he'd want to be friends with Andy, 'ceptin' for maybe to try to get somethin' from him. But Slim said Daniel was still tryin' to settle in, and we needed to help him. Slim's like that. He's got just as much a heart for two-legged strays as his little brother does for the four-legged kind.

That Mellray kid's always worried me, though. Sure, whenever he'd come to the house he seemed nice. A polite kid. From a decent enough family. But he had an outright fascination with gunslingin'. Slim said that's normal for a 15-year-old boy out here in Wyoming Territory. And I reckon it might be. But the way that kid looked at Jess and his gun… well, that just didn't rest easy on my mind.

Or on Jess's either. When they were changin' the team for the stage one day, after Jess shot that cougar, I heard him tellin' Slim that the way that boy had kind of a hero worship thing goin' for him was makin' him nervous.

"You oughta be used to that by now," Slim joshed. "You've put up with it for a year from Andy." He grinned at Jess as he backed a wheeler in.

But Jess didn't crack a smile at'all.

"Ain't the same, Slim. For some reason that kid thinks he needs to prove somethin' to me. I think you better talk to his pa."

"I don't even know the man, Jess."

"Well, you'd better git to know 'im. Or maybe I should. To make sure he straightens his boy out. And fast."

"All right. It's my brother that the kid's hangin' with. I'll talk to Mellray."

"Soon."

"Yeah, Jess. Soon. I will."

But that conversation between Slim and Jess took place about two weeks ago. Things get busy on a ranch, and with a relay station to boot. Slim hadn't got around to talkin' to the boy's pa yet.

I looked over at him standin' there beside the front door. I saw him eyein' that red streak. And I could see how his breathin' increased deep and he swallowed hard. Feelin' guilty. Because he put off havin' that talk with Mr. Mellray. Aw, it prob'ly wouldn't a' made any difference anyhow. But I know Slim. He wasn't seein' it that way. He was blamin' himself for what happened. For not bein' able to stop what happened. To stop Daniel. And there Jess ended up lyin' on that cold hard floor, clingin' to life by barely a thread.

Jess had been behind a boulder near the cabin, and Mort and Slim were providin' cover for him while he ran for the door. Slim said he was about fifteen feet away from it when all of a sudden that shot rang out from a third gun inside. And there stood that darn fool kid Daniel, at the window with a smokin' carbine in his hands and a dazed look on his face, like he couldn't believe what he'd just done.

Busy as they were, neither Slim nor Mort had noticed him rushin' up there to the front of the room, and I didn't either. My back was painin' me, and I guess I must'a looked down or closed my eyes for a few seconds. Didn't see him head toward that rifle. Didn't realize what he had in mind till he'd pulled that trigger.

Fast as all get out, Slim plucked that gun from Daniel's hands and slung the kid to the floor as bullets came shootin' into the window where the boy had just stood. "Get over there!" Slim bellowed, gesturin' toward the other part of the house where Andy and I were crouched down, out of the way of the firin'. "Stay down! Crawl!" Slim's voice held as much fury as I've ever heard come from him.

The kid managed to do as he was told, crawlin' his way on past Andy and me and over into the far corner where he stayed hunkered down. Still with that shocked look on his face.

Slim was just fixin' to head out that door to get Jess when there was a thud up against it, and here came Jess himself stumblin' inside, while Sheriff Cory kept up the cover shootin'. How in blazes he made it to his feet and got himself to the house and through that door I'll never know, but that's Jess for ya. One time Pinewood Will, the old woodcarver in town who knew of Jess from their Texas days, said, "That boy's Panhandle tough. There ain't no quit in 'im at'all." And I reckon that about sums it up.

Well, Jess got himself inside and swung that door closed lickety-split, leanin' against it for support. That didn't last but three seconds, though. Slim was holsterin' his weapon and reachin' out toward him, when Jess just slid to the floor, trailin' blood against that door all the way down. His knees landed on the floorboards, and Slim caught him as he fell over sideways.

I started creepin' my way towards them, staying low 'cause of the flyin' lead, and by the time I reached them, the boy was already passed out complete. Slim and I together dragged him over to the safest part of the cabin. I ripped open that bib shirt, and I didn't mean to let it out, but I know a "Lord have mercy" slipped off my tongue when I saw the damage.

As I reached to my back pocket for my clean handkerchief, my eyes met Slim's. And I never saw such a look of fear in him before. Slim fought in the war, and he saw his share of men who took a bullet, so he knew. He realized just like I did. There was no need to tell him how bad it was.

I let out a big whoosh of air as I pushed that kerchief onto that wound to try to slow that leak. Even in the unconscious state he was in─or, at that minute, close to bein' in─Jess jerked and groaned. I knew I was hurtin' the boy, but there was no help for it. I had to do what I had to do. And so did Slim. I knew he wanted to stay right there with Jess, but he needed to get back over to that window and see about takin' down those varmints outside.

That left me there, pressin' on that hole in Jess's chest. And sayin' comfortin' words whenever he'd come to for a while and start tryin' to tug away from me. He couldn't help it. Reflexes'll make you do that when you're hurtin' so bad, makes you want to move yourself away from what's causin' the pain. But then, all of a sudden it seemed like he was tryin' to make himself hold still. As I watched him squeeze his eyes closed tight and grit his teeth and listened to him moan low from my pushin', it drew a pitiful feelin' to the pit of my stomach. And a mist to my eyes.