Chapter Six
"Slim Sherman is dead."
Mort hated saying it. He hated what he could tell it was doing to Jess. He heard his young friend moan, and he knew this time it wasn't because of his physical pain, but because of the anguish he felt at losing the man who was practically his brother. But Mort knew the stranger wanted Slim dead, and if he could convince him that he already was, then maybe he could get Jess out of this.
"I saw him," the man said, still gripping tight to Jess. "I saw him carry him onto a stagecoach. They had some help. They were getting him somewhere safe." The man looked over at Mort now. "Mr. Harper shot me, you know? He shot me – in the back – and he didn't even think to send one of those helpers to come find me. To come HELP ME. He left me to die. Just like my brother." He turned back to Jess and waited until their eyes met again. "Just like that man's brother," he said, nodding his head towards the bedroom.
Another memory struck Jess then – this one of Mort, standing in the doorway of Jess' bedroom, motioning towards the bed. "He's not going to be much of a threat to anyone like this."
"Who's in the bedroom?" Jess growled out.
The man smiled and chuckled softly, then finally released his grip on Jess' hair. "Seems like you've got a lot of enemies, Harper. That man," he nodded again towards the room. "You killed his brother too. And I would have let him have some fun with you too, but it seems he didn't come for the same type of revenge I did."
Jess shook his head. He was confused, his head was pounding, the nausea was rearing up again, and Slim – well, Slim was dead. Mort had just confirmed it. "I don't understand any of this," Jess moaned, and he leaned his head back and let it collapse against the table leg again as his eyes rolled up towards the ceiling.
"It was Frankie Mount, Jess." Mort said softly. Mort had recognized the man from the various wanted posters that came across his desk. Mount. That name meant something to Jess too. But no memories seemed to be forth coming this time…
The man sighed. "Let me help you out, Harper," he said as he stood up and stretched his aching knees. He rubbed at the low spot at his back and turned towards Mort. "Don't ever get old, am I right?" He smiled at the sheriff, but Mort simply grunted and turned his head back towards his friend.
The man sighed and walked over to sit on the couch. "All right. Let me explain some things. My brother – Bill – he was holding you in exchange for a ransom from Ricky Mount. Mount wanted you, Harper, for crippling him in an attempted robbery a while back. So Mount showed up at my brother's house, with a large ransom in hand. But, lo and behold, somehow – SOMEHOW – the great Jess Harper killed them both. And then you buried them, because you've got a heart of gold. You following me so far, Jess?"
Jess glared up at the man, but no one interrupted so he continued with his story. "When I came a few days later to see my brother, imagine myself to instead find two graves. I dug up the graves, found Mount – who you had buried with the money – and Bill, and decided to come after you for myself. But I figured my brother and I were due the payday from Mount, and so I pocketed the ransom myself."
"Frankie there," he pointed towards the bedroom. "He didn't have much love for his brother. In fact, he said the money was partially his, since they'd both 'earned it' in an earlier robbery, and they hadn't agreed to spend it all on getting revenge on you. So, he was just looking for the money. But I couldn't let him find out who REALLY had the money, so, see…he had to die."
"All that blood outside – all the blood in here – it was his?" Mort asked.
"The blood outside was mine. Harper winged me." He pointed at his left shoulder, which neither man had realized had been hanging limp. "Bled something crazy, but I got it stopped. And then Frankie came up. Walked right in through those doors. He recognized me as Bill's brother and must have thought I knew something about what had happened to the cash…" the man sighed heavily, as though the grief of his recent crime was suddenly setting hard on his shoulders. "So - he had to be stopped."
"And now," the man said, raising his gun again and walking back over to kneel beside Jess, "there's only one more thing left to do to put this whole nasty business behind us." He raised the gun up to point at Jess and cocked the hammer. "I should let you live," he sighed. "I should force you to live with the death of your brother for every minute of your day, the way you've forced me to. But I can't let you live. You either, sheriff," he called over. "I can't go to jail or hang for all this. I'm a rich man now, see – I've got a lot more life to live."
Suddenly the three men heard the familiar sound of horses running into the yard. The man sighed. "Well then. More friends to join the party, hmm?"