Chapter Five

Slim lay on his back, hand gently probing into his stomach. He winced when he touched the point of most protest, but at least the sensation didn't tug from his throat, run up and then out. He sighed. Maybe he was getting better like Doctor Sweeney said would happen. Yet Slim had made so many trips to the outhouse since he had returned to the ranch, he might have been better off taking blanket and pillow and lying outside of the crescent moon carved door. The mere thought brought the rumble down south and Slim gingerly rose out of bed, his aim for that loathsome place all over again.

"Pokeberries," Slim mumbled as he walked, belly gurgling louder with each step. Yet this was nothing with how the noise rumbled when he lay underneath Doctor Sweeney's frowning brow.

Slim had looked up into the weathered cheeks, his vision so blurred he had to squint. "Am I going to die, Doc?"

Doctor Sweeney sniffed the canteen for what must have been the tenth time. "Not from pokeberries. They torment the insides for awhile, but they won't dig your grave."

Slim had kept those words with him during every trip to his second dwelling these last thirty-six hours. Time didn't mean much with his moaning gut, but it must have been about that long since he had been given the report of his eventual recovery. Or maybe it had been that long since Jess hauled him home in the back of a bouncing wagon bed. It didn't really matter. What had importance was that his partner had worried about him and went in search of the missing star, otherwise he would be living like a sick dog, running from bush to bush.

"Pokeberries," Slim mumbled again, adding with a huff, "but not fatal. You'd better be right, Doc."

Slim couldn't help but have his doubts that Doctor Sweeney was wrong and that he would still succumb. At least that was how he felt with every explosion in his core, including this one.

Buckle not even being tightened to his waist, Slim stepped back into the daylight. Clouds were developing, the thick, fluffy kind that would bring rain. Looking up into their dark undersides, Slim breathed in the cooler air that felt comfortable on his cheeks. For a moment, albeit the briefest, Slim thought of baring his other cheeks to the autumnal nip. Maybe if it was just the two bachelors under the same roof then the brazen thought could turn into an action. But then Slim quickly shook his head and returned to the house. Daisy obviously would have noticed his exit and would have another cup of herbal tea for his upset stomach. She might even be watching through the curtain for his return so that he could drain the dose before going back to bed. Slim shook his head again, wondering if his face wore the hue of a blush. There definitely would be no dropping of his pants until another trip to the outhouse was needed, as there it would be behind a closed door.

The step underneath his boot, Slim hid the wince as he turned the knob and went inside. He walked as well as a greenhorn that had just spent his first day in the saddle, sore and chafed in the behind. Slim was that, all right. Just a different part of the behind.

"How are you feeling, Slim?" Daisy's call came from the kitchen, sure enough with the medicinal tea in hand.

"Better," Slim answered, hiding the truth underneath a weak smile. Daisy might have seen some of the ugliest during her time as a nurse, and was rather experienced with the two men and a boy at the ranch for the past two years, but Slim still didn't figure the truth was appropriate to tell a lady.

"Oh, good. Keep taking the tea and you'll be back to normal in no time."

"Sure." Slim held out his hand to the cup, uncertain if the contents were making him feel any better. Considering the evil thumping that his gut had produced before he tasted that first bitter drop Daisy created had abated, he would continue to pour it down his throat. "I'll just go back to bed, though."

"Oh, Slim. I'm so glad you told me about Mrs. Oates not being well. I went over to their farm yesterday. The poor woman."

So he had been home that long. Slim paused at the bedroom door. "That sick, huh?"

"Well, maybe not physically ill, but definitely heartsick. There's a baby's grave freshly dug," Daisy said, her voice growing softer with emotion. This, the softest yet. "They called her Annabelle."

Slim slowly shook his head. "I'm sure sorry to hear that."

"Yes. Mrs. Oates was so visibly shaken that when I held her hand I could feel her trembling."

The need to lie down was great, but Slim couldn't ignore another need, even greater. "I know it was a nice thing going to visit her, Daisy, but you shouldn't be going out alone."

"Why, Slim, I was perfectly safe. The shotgun was under my seat the whole time."

"It's not just the outlaw that I'm thinking about. There's been a report that bounty hunters are starting to get thick."

Daisy's eyes widened. "Bounty hunters?"

"Yeah. Now that there isn't a regular lawman working out of Laramie, the pretend lawmen are getting into action. Of course the banker in town adding a sizable sum to the outlaw's capture didn't hurt their cause either."

"Oh. I'm sorry I didn't think about that. But we can talk more about this later. You're still so pale, Slim. Get back in bed."

He wouldn't argue. But before his step took him in the direction of rest, Slim's eyes latched onto Jess. Quiet and seated on the couch, his gaze was somewhere off in the distance. There would be no reading into that kind of mood of his partner, especially when Slim's belly was giving him a hard enough kick that his direction would have to change and return to the outhouse.

Watching Slim's tender gait through the glass, Jess rubbed the bandage on his right hand. He was still hindered from drawing his gun. He had tried, more than once already this day, and had to smack his wrapped palm against the butt of his gun that would remain secured in his holster. His left thumb could drop the hammer and the first finger beside it could pull a trigger if necessary, but it wasn't enough security to be able to put the badge back on.

Yet at that moment his fingers were tempted to reach inside the pocket where it was hidden and securely fasten it to his vest.

The Oates' name had made a wheel start turning. It was slow, and clacked as if Jess were driving a wagon over the rockiest of roads, but Jess couldn't turn back to smoother ground now that it started rolling. He knew who David Oates really was. An outlaw, former outlaw anyway, living a new life with a changed name.

Could he be responsible for all of this? The robberies, Mort getting shot, his own body getting burned and now Slim's poisoning. Was Oates the same man?

Jess started to shake his head, but that wheel over its rocky roadway was giving him another hard knock. During Slim's walks back and forth, enough information had been pulled out of Slim's throat and mingled with what Jess already knew. But maybe the most important piece had come from Mort. The man behind the robberies could have been local, but there was no doubt that he had to be a professional. David Oates qualified for both.

The bandage was given another rub and then suddenly Jess was on his feet. "I'm gonna go out for awhile, Daisy."

"All right, Jess, but take care of yourself, Dear. That hand of yours is still weeping."

Most of Daisy's words were to his back, as Jess had already taken the steps through the door, but he did allow that bandaged paw to rise to gesture a goodbye, and show Daisy that he hadn't forgotten. If the burn across his palm had already dried up, then for certain the bandage would have been tossed aside like all the others.

"I'll be back before dark, Slim, and do the chores," said Jess, passing Slim on his way to the barn.

"Where you headed, Pard?"

"No place in particular."

Jess slowed his mount as he reached that destination, but despite what he told Slim, it was a particular place, and Jess was looking at its lopsided sign. D & M Oates. A moment later, Jess was looking across a yard into a pair of dark eyes. At least it wasn't the doubled barrel kind. Anyone with even the slightest background on the opposing side of the law wouldn't have missed his approach and pulled out a welcoming iron, but Oates' hand wasn't holding anything of that kind. Maybe that should have comforted Jess' thoughts, but nothing close to relief entered his veins. The man being atop his roof might have been the only reason why there wasn't a finger resting on a trigger right now.

Nudging his horse to the hitching post, Jess kept his gaze attached to the pair that also refused to leave his. "Davies."

The locking of his jaw showed the disgruntlement of hearing his original name. "Harper. What brings you this way?"

"A friendly visit," Jess answered, hoping his lie wasn't stinging his cheeks as hard as it shot across his tongue. The only way to cover it up was to follow with truth. "Mrs. Cooper said she came over to check on your missus. Sorry to hear about the baby."

"Yeah." It was spit out rather harshly, along with the nail that went into the roof.

Jess followed the man's movements, gauging the amount of labor that had gone into the replacement of every shingle. "You've been fixing the place up, huh?" And where'd you get the money to do it? His head had inserted the addition, but didn't allow that kind of question to come out of his mouth. After all, at this moment he wasn't wearing a badge. These questions were strictly between man to man. Yet it was as if Davies knew what he wanted to know anyway.

"Mona's got some kin that left her in their will. Granted it wasn't much, but sometimes dimes and nickels can look mighty big."

"That they can."

"Look, Harper, I ain't got a lotta time for visiting. I've gotta get the rest of these shingles nailed in before it rains. I doubt I have to point out the sky to you."

No, he wouldn't. Jess' eyes had wandered to the west more than once in his ride. The first autumn storm sat there on the horizon like a warning sign that there would be plenty more to follow. Jess looked down at his hand. If it wasn't hidden behind some cloth, he could haul his backside up the ladder and grab a hammer too. Working beside the man ought to make him know if he was capable of turning back to the life that had put him behind bars all those years ago. Yet his feet remained rooted to the spot.

"Hector…" Jess tested the name, half expecting to get a handful of nails tossed into his face. He did get a response, but nothing that would scar his hide as Davies merely scowled.

"What?"

"There're bounty hunters riding around."

"So?"

"Just thought that a man with a past oughta know that."

The eyes narrowed. "But only you know about my past. Or does the whole territory know my real name by now?"

Jess shook his head. "I ain't told anyone. So far I haven't had the need. Unless that's changed. Has it?"

"Harper." He sighed, shifting his hammer so that it tipped his hat backward a notch. "All I've done lately is help out my wife. I think Mrs. Cooper would be able to fill you in there."

Jess' eyes sought the cross, the etched name and the bleeding heart that was somewhere inside. And in fact, also on top of the roof. "Sure."

The hammer hit hard in multiple whacks. "I've gotta get back to work."

"I understand. I reckon I oughta be going too," Jess said, taking up the reins of his mount. "And Hec?"

The eyebrows upright were all that Jess was going to get to prod his continue.

"You know all you gotta do is ask when you need help, right?"

No, he didn't know, but he nodded anyway. Anything to get Jess Harper to leave. There was suspicion in Harper's eyes. Even if he had tried to mask it behind some caring words, Harper didn't ride this way in an impending rainstorm to share condolences. Mona said that Mrs. Cooper shared each name in her household as part of her understanding heart. Harper had no need to be the older woman's echo. He was there to question. Nothing more. The fire he set in Harper's face might have singed the edges a bit, but it hadn't burned the core. Neither the star. At the moment he wasn't wearing it, but Harper might as well as been, for that was a deputy in his yard, not a neighbor or friend.

The first raindrop hitting his nose, Hec took his eyes away from Harper's retreating back and put the hammer in a staccato rhythm. The roof had to be done before the same staccato started falling from the sky. He wasn't going to kiss a damp forehead goodnight. Nor did he want to see a tearful goodbye. That would be far worse. Hec turned back toward Harper, now disappeared around the first bend.

Bounty hunters. He should have expected that. True, his name wasn't known to them, but his face? If wanted posters were pasted on any of their walls like wallpaper, someone might have a sharp enough memory to pull out the right page on him.

Or maybe all one of them money-hound's had to do was push Harper's back to the wall. Sure, the man wasn't soft, but everyone has their weakness. Harper could still talk.

"I should've killed him," Hec said to the vacant ground where Harper had stood and then a smile toyed at the corner of his mouth. "Maybe I still will."

But for now he had to get the roof done. He promised Mona, and to him, that was a far greater vow than putting a target over Jess Harper's back.

Long after Jess rounded the bend to put the Oates' small farm behind him, Jess felt a stinging sensation against his back. Eyes, he figured, as a gun to his open frame would have made his whole body tingle. Pausing his mount, he turned back toward the place where he had come, his stare bringing him nothing in return. Kind of like his ride in the first place. It had gained him nothing. The former outlaw said nothing to prove his guilt, yet also nothing to prove his innocence.

Jess put the hooves back in motion, but even as he changed paths to return to the ranch on one of the smaller threads against the soil, the sensation of being watched went with him. If Jess' focus had been able to wander above him, he would have found the reason. Twice. A pair of bounty hunters, or killers, as that would have been a more proper description, held the ground above him.

"Huh." Rowan Carlyle leaned around the tree he had been using as his back support to watch the lone rider on the road below him. "Why do you suppose Harper's out this way?"

Thad Lemming's gun being cleaned went still. "Who's Harper?"

"Jess Harper, you idiot. Deputy out of Laramie."

"I thought Jess Harper was a gunfighter."

"Among other things," Rowan answered, his voice a peculiar mixture of disgust and admiration. "But yeah, that's the same man."

This answer could only wear an incredulous tone. "He wears a star?"

"Sometimes."

Thad dropped his readied pistol inside of his holster. "Laramie must have quite the interesting head honcho, deputizing a reputation like Harper's."

"Actually, the sheriff must be a really smart man. It's a reputation like Harper has that gives him an edge like no other lawman'll have. Which puts me back to my original question. What's he doing out here?"

"No one lives out here but a fellow named David Oates," Thad answered, pointing in the direction of the unseen house. "It's kind of a rundown place. He's also got a wife and kid. Doesn't sound like anyone under suspicion."

"Harper must think he is," Rowan said, leaning away from his perch to get a final look at Harper's back. "Let's hang out here awhile. Might prove to be fun."

.:.

Jess pointed to the bowl in front of Slim. "Finally graduated to soup, huh?"

The spoon eased in and out of Slim's mouth. "Yeah. And does it ever taste good."

"Oughta, when you've done nothing but eat bread and drink that smelly tea for three days straight. You should be more like me."

"How's that?"

"When I came home from the doc's, I refused anything off a spoon and shoved a steak between my teeth. Cured me straight away."

"That's why you only took that bandage off your hand this morning, right?"

Jess quickly flattened his palm over the table's top, hiding the mark that took up most of the space between thumb and pinky. "All right, so part of me took awhile to mend, but real meat in my core, that's what did it."

"You wouldn't be smirking if it had been you that guzzled pokeberry juice."

"Maybe not, but if I had, I woulda still ate the steak."

Slim shook his head, ending the argument with a smile instead of a returned quip. He was so grateful for not being stuck in the outhouse anymore that he would take Jess' ribbing, even if his partner devoured a steak right in front of him.

The quiet moment eased when Slim's spoon dropped into an empty bowl, the second one he had emptied that hour. Maybe he really was ready for a steak. "You going back to Laramie tomorrow?"

"Yeah. I can handle a gun now." Jess put his words into action as he pulled the revolver away from his hip. "No reason to not put the badge back on."

Slim's stride took him to the peg beside the door, his right-hugging belt going into place. "I'm going, too."

"Taking your soup in a canteen, are you?"

Slim's mouth matched Jess' lifted edge. "If need be."

"We can't leave Daisy and Mike alone."

"I know. I'm sure Billy will come out," Slim said, hand circling around his rifle. "Mort might be close enough to be healed to be back in business, but he can't do it alone. This man has to be stopped, Jess. It's going to take all of us."

"Yeah, you're probably right. He's already come close to killing Mort, poisoned you and burnt me. No telling what he's gonna do next."

Slim's eyes found the calendar on the wall. "And he's just about due for the next hit."

"If only we knew where it was gonna be."

"Well we don't, but one thing's for sure." The rifle was fed its fuel and then finished with a tap against its butt. "We're going to be ready when it happens."

.:.

"The stage is late."

It was Slim that made the announcement, but the other two men beside him could have easily said the same. All of them had been watching for its arrival in Laramie. And the numbers on Mort's watch as he popped it open declared how long. A full hour.

"I don't like it," Jess said, his eyes unable to roam away from the east entry of Laramie. "Especially because the last stage stop was at the ranch."

"Want to mount up?" Mort asked, able to feel the bristles coming off of Jess' frame. Admittedly, Mort had some of his own poking out of his back.

"You bet, and I…" Jess' lips slammed shut when a horse, riding as if one of the devil's henchmen were atop its back, sped into Laramie, east end. And because the rider had blood pouring from his shoulder and his name happened to be Billy, Jess' legs started pumping underneath him, but nothing could match the pounding of his heart. "Billy! What happened?"

"The stage was hit just outside of the ranch." Billy's breathlessness made his reply broken by his airy heaves, adding to the immense pressure, and fear, clutching the hearts that were listening to him. "I heard gunshots and went to look. No one was bad hurt this time, but I was too late to help the coach not lose its money. I saw the man in black running off. I followed him. I don't think he expected a kid like me to go chasing him so he didn't look my way when he topped his horse. Why'd a fellow put rags on a horse's hooves anyway?"

"To hide his tracks, Billy," Slim answered, so eager for him to continue that he leaned toward the teenager. "What else is there?"

"Well he wasn't pushing his horse hard so I was able to keep in step. It looked like he was heading for the cutoff to the Oates' place, but I'm not sure if he took that way or kept going. That's when I got too close and he put a bullet in me. I was too scared to go further, so I rode hard to town."

"You did fine, Billy," Slim said, easing his hand around the wound. "But you best get on to Doc's. That bullet's got to come out."

"Yeah." Billy looked toward the store before his steps started in the direction of Doctor Sweeney's office. "I guess Uncle Ezra's gonna need a new errand boy for awhile."

Jess' hand went into a tight fist, the movement caught by both sets of eyes beside him. His whisper was just as hard. "The Oates' place. Then he coulda…"

The place behind Mort's badge began to throb harder. "What about him?"

"Nothing," Jess answered, but its swift release said otherwise.

Slim's hand connected to his partner's shoulder. "Jess, what do you know about David Oates?"

The sigh might not have been loud, but it was genuinely felt. There was no way he could get around the truth, just plow right through it. "He wore prison clothes, same kind I did, because we were in the same place, at the same time."

"You knew him in prison?" Slim asked, attaching his eyes to Mort's for a moment before sliding back to Jess' blue.

"Actually, no. We were pardoned at the same time. When the judge signed our papers, we walked outta there together. It's kinda hard not to give each other a welcoming smile when freedom's sun is shining down on you."

Mort shook his head. "Since I've never had the slightest thought about Oates, I doubt that's what he used to use. What's his real name, Jess?"

"Hector Davies."

Mort's insides, especially where his skin was still puckered, seemed to jump a mile. "Hector Davies? My God, Jess, he comes from the worst kind of outlaw stock. Jess, why on earth didn't you tell me?"

Jess lowered his eyes and then kicked at a rock that wasn't there. "When he and his family moved to Laramie, I kinda shook on keeping his past secret, Mort. I ain't the kind to squeal on somebody. And he swore he'd changed his life for good."

"Well, unfortunately not all promises are kept. Come on, let's go talk to him."

But words were not what would be exchanged first.

A mile out from their destination, gunshots exploded. Some distance later, another.

Irons in hand, the three lawmen increased their pace, only to return the guns to their leather seats when they pulled up on the reins. The dismounts were slow. The first steps even slower. And then the scene before them put a halt to their tracks.

Mort's air was caught in his throat, the sinking feeling down all the way into his boots. Slim's face blanched with the need to look away, inevitably bowing his head. Jess stared straight ahead, unblinking, unmoving, only his heart seemed to be able to work, and it was crying out in agony.