Chapter Ten

"Hold up, Slim." Mort's hand slowly lowered back to the saddle horn when Slim's mount pulled up alongside his. "You hear that?"

How could he miss it? The sound was still making chills race up and down his spine. "Yeah."

"Cougar's scream, you think?"

"No. Man." And Slim knew exactly which one. "Jess."

Shifting his head toward the offending sound as it rang out a second time, Mort's ears sprang to life. It was more distinct this go around, which left no doubt. That was Jess' voice. Hard, cruel, and terrified.

His heart was a perfect match. "How far are we from the cave?"

"Less than a mile. Ground's risky going up, though. In the night, worse."

"We'll take the rest of the way on foot, then. Get loaded up, Slim."

He already was. Slim's sidearm might have remained attached to his hip out of necessity, but the longer version was there in his hand. Taking the additional bullets that would keep both of them full of their mighty bites, Slim swung out of the saddle, boots already aiming upward.

"Careful, Slim," Mort called out the warning, but even he was dropping his boots rather recklessly. The need to cover the span between their upward motion and the cave was too great to go with tiptoes. "Oh what the heck, just go, but don't you fall back on me. The last thing I want is to be lying in bed for over a week again."

He knew it was said in jest, anything to lighten their moods, but Slim couldn't even bring the furthest corner of his mouth up. The last thing he wanted was for Jess to be lying in a bed, or somewhere else far more permanent. The thought spread his legs even farther apart. He had to get up there!

Stretching his arm out to aid his climb, Slim's fingers slid across the white surface. His nose didn't usually lie. Its cold tip had declared the temperature as below the freezing mark before the first star popped out against the dark background and they were well past that hour now. He had wanted to shiver, producing the marks of his flesh that followed the chill, but at the moment, Slim's temple was coated with sweat.

This was the life of his best friend, his partner, in more ways than just how it was spelled out on the ranch's deed. And Slim's body was reacting to pure fear. For at that moment, Jess screamed again.

Slim almost uttered its repeat, but chose something more pertinent instead. "It's just up ahead."

There was no moon to bathe their surroundings in silver, but the cave was close enough now that Mort didn't need its help. "I see its outline."

He knew it would be empty. The way Slim's gut was clenched like the hand around his rifle told him so, yet he entered as if he were about to unload every shell he carried. Standing still with Mort close beside, Slim swung the iron's point until every inch of its perimeter saw the readied barrel. However, Slim didn't have the kind of vision that could reach into black's background, and he kept it trained at the cave's center.

The strike of a match put Slim's eyes into a squint, wanting to see everything before the little flame was puffed out in Mort's fingers.

"See anything?" Mort asked, stretching his arm outward to allow the circle of light to dance ahead of them.

"No." Slim shook his head, the smoke's scent the precursor of the match's death. "No, wait."

The scratch of a new match went against the cave's wall. "What is it, Slim?"

"Over there," Slim said, his rifle bobbing the precise point. "Something's on the ground."

Mort nodded, taking in the odd shape. "But what is it?"

Another match would be needed when their steps came to a stop, but Slim's knee was already in a drop to the rocky surface before it was struck. His hand was squeezing the fabric when the new light hovered by his cheek. As he lifted the blue, familiar as if it were on his own back, Slim's mouth became as dry as the miniscule ashes that fell when Mort had the urgent need to let the flame return to darkness.

"It's Jess' clothes," Slim said, looking up to where Mort's head should have been. "They stripped him bare."

"He completely raw?" Mort produced another match, running the light over the length of Jess' shirt and pants. Even his longjohns were in the pile. "Oh, Jess. What are they doing to you?"

That was what Slim wanted to know. Or perhaps, if it was so bad that severity's weight would tip a scale over, he didn't. But that wasn't the voice of friendship speaking in his head, just fear. He would find his partner, pull him out of the hell the outlaws put him in, no matter how far into the earth's depths they dropped him.

"And then put them both in that very same place."

"What, Slim?"

"Nothing. Just saying something Jess probably would right about now."

Slim's hand balled into a fist. That, too, would be his partner's reaction. Casting his eyes back to the open darkness behind him, Slim stared into its nothingness, his partner's pitch somewhere on its other side having the ability to turn Slim's hair into snow.

Mort stepped away from the cave's throat. "Where is that coming from?"

Slim started to shake his head, but then through the stillness he heard the tumbling roar. He pictured its breathtaking view, but in the same instance came another scene, this one brand new. And it literally had the ability to steal the air right out of his chest. "The falls!"

.:.

He tried to keep the assault from pouring off of his mouth. There was nothing he could do to prevent the actual droplets from coursing down his frame, but he could keep his insides silent. But not for long.

Jess' mouth parted when the cold water ran from his tightly closed fists, over his head and down the full length of his body. His bare body. They had stripped him raw.

"That way the cold'll get to your bones a whole lot quicker," Donovan had said when Jess stepped out of his jeans.

When his longjohns hit the ground, his jaw had a hard time staying locked, but there was no sense cringing from his nakedness anymore. What was the use of letting embarrassment tickle his hindquarters when his body was recoiling every few minutes anyway? At first the rush of the waterfall could only tug a gasp out of his lips, but now it was jerking a guttural cry out of his core. The next scream would prove to be fuller than the first.

Nothing left of the stream but the beads that were left clinging to his skin, Jess' body swung away from the torrent, dangling alone in the frigid air. Except he wasn't truly alone. They were on the rocky bank somewhere, but the night's darkness, lit only by the stars that dared to shine amid the cold, wouldn't allow him the visual line.

Once the ropes were all that held him, Jess could actually thank those lucky stars for not having the moon in their midst. He didn't need to see the pair of coyotes, mangier than those that walked on all fours. He expected they were both reveling in his vulnerability and his close proximity with death. Maybe their mouths were hung open, grins ready to spread into laughter at the moment of his demise. If that really was the image beyond the black inkwell that surrounded him, maybe Jess should brand the brothers hyenas instead. Whichever animal that they might have represented, as men they were one word. Insane.

Feeling his body swing once more toward the waterfall, Jess clenched his jaw to bear its onslaught, but it couldn't be contained. The bitterness tore out of his throat, just as it was doing to his outer frame. And then as the water, entering his mouth at its widest came back out with a sputter, Jess was hauled away from what felt like it raced straight out of an iceberg's mouth.

"You had enough yet, Harper?"

He barely turned his head toward the voice of Hec Davies. "Enough'a w-wh-at?"

He would have cursed if Jess would have thought the addition would do any good. He had wanted to keep the stutter away from his tongue, show them that he could still breathe fire despite how hard they were trying to squelch it. And now when he could bring something off of his mouth other than a violent scream, Jess sounded like a rattlesnake's tail, and also be the man that was about to get chomped by the opposite end.

"You know what," Hec answered, watching as his brother was about to push the stout tree limb that was Harper's sole support back into the waterfall. Hearing the water do its intended and drag another cry out of his enemy's mouth, Hec waited until Donovan's muscles produced the hard tug to bring Harper into the air again. "You can always let go if you can't take it anymore."

Jess looked up. That he was able to see, as the rope that kept him attached to what looked more like a thin log than an arm of a tree was only as far above his head as his hands could stretch. Nothing kept him held in place except for the short piece of rope, draped over the chunk of wood and clutched between both hands.

If he let go, even if one palm slipped free, that would be his instant death. The ground below wasn't nicknamed "Hell's Entrance" for nothing. By daylight it was ominous. At night it couldn't show its fury, but its presence was the same. The water itself, coursing down in a straight line, landed so heavily with the basin below it that clouds of mist, bearing a close resemblance to smoke, curled back into what fell from above. And that was its innocence.

Directly below Jess' body was a churning mass of foam, licking upward to drown the massive boulders and spires that lived there. Never budging, even after centuries of assault, the rocks at the waterfall's end would slice a body to shreds, after it had finished breaking every bone in his already dead frame.

Jess' tongue coming out, it tasted his torturer. A moment later every other part of him would feel its bitter flavor. His mouth clamping out the remainder of his scream when he was jerked back out of the tumult, Jess' eyes went to the purely perilous.

This is what they wanted him to do. Succumb to the torment and drop to his death. He wouldn't let them have it. But how long until they knew he wasn't going to answer the devil's never ending taunt and put a bullet through his heart instead? Jess knew Hec had been waving the rifle in his direction before distance put an end to his vision of the man and his weapon.

I gotta hold on. Jess let his mind carry this one. He didn't trust his mouth to utter anything coherent other than his screams. He had good reason to inwardly cling. Jess had years of experience tucked under his belt, existing even when the belt, buckle and everything else attached to it was removed. Hardened by trauma, seasoned by getting through it, Jess could have allowed his mind to completely focus on his being saved by his own wits, dumb luck, or Someone up in the clouds watching over him. But Jess had nearly five years of a different kind of experience to hold onto instead. Slim. By this hour, he would have long since tucked Daisy and Mike into Laramie's safest corner. And since Slim was getting more and more attuned to how Jess' innards ticked, he wouldn't have been satisfied with Jess' last words. Forget about me. He would be coming. Jess just didn't know how close he was.

Part of the reason why he let his tongue fly in response to the waterfall's torturous temperature was to guide his partner to him. The cave was empty, aside from the clothes that he had been forced to take off at gunpoint. Once he reached that blacker hole, Slim wouldn't stand around tapping his finger on his chin and wonder what to do next. He would be pushing every rock off of its eternal perch to look for him. But if Jess could light the way among all of this darkness, well, there was only one way to accurately paint its description. It gave Jess the ability to keep hanging on.

At that moment he needed it more than all the others before. Donovan was doing more than pushing on the limb, he was shaking it, and Jess' fingers on his left side began to slip. His thumb overlapping the weakest point, he stretched his arm farther than endurance allowed and regained control of the rope.

There was a prayer working its way from Jess' mind to the space where it could be picked up by holy ears, but it wasn't exactly addressed to the Almighty. Yet there was still power backing it, from the one that uttered it, to the one that received it. At that very moment, Jess' "Hurry Slim" brought two different sets of boots on the outskirts of the tortured man's cry.

"Which one has to go down first?" Mort whispered into Slim's ear, although with the waterfall's bellow and Jess' shrill tone to match, it wasn't likely that the Davies brothers would have caught the voices behind them.

"I'm not sure. The one with the gun could fire it on Jess the moment the one at the log goes down." Slim glared into the darkness ahead of him at the man wielding the rifle. The reason why his own gun wasn't secured in his palm was that his trigger pull, if missing its target completely, then the bullet could run right into Jess.

"We can't forget that the log-holder is literally holding Jess' life in his hands. If that man goes down first, Jess is dropped to his death. One of us has to immediately put our backbone into that log."

"Could we possibly surprise them both at the same time?"

"I don't know, Slim. The man with the gun is at the kind of angle that the log fellow will see us the moment we take the jump. It's gotta be one or the other."

Slim sighed heavily, but the pressure in his chest didn't feel as if it received any relief. "Then we'll have to risk the gunman's bullet. Maybe he'll turn it on us instead and spare Jess the lead."

"We can't wait much longer to decide. Jess couldn't possibly hold on much longer."

"All right. We'll take out the log man first. But promise me one thing, Mort. Don't let go of that log!"

"I'm elected, huh?"

Slim barely had the ability to smile. "You were when I voted you for sheriff. Let's get in position."

Something was happening. He just couldn't see exactly what. All Jess knew was that the pressure changed on what was holding him up. Swinging slightly toward the cliff's side, Jess shifted his frame so that his face was pointed toward his captors. There weren't just two men there anymore. But four. His heart dared to dance to a tune other than a shake.

Mort's rifle was upside down, and that was where the man in charge of the log was about to go when Mort swung the weapon over Donovan's head. Now in control of the log, Mort tried to swing it in his direction, but the man that was on the worst end of being dazed had more abundance in his upper arms than what Mort boasted. Yet he wasn't going to let that be his hinder. He wasn't going to let go of Jess, not even when Donovan started to rise, casting the remnants of his unconsciousness away with one spin of his neck.

Keeping both legs on the log, Mort went for the gun at his hip. His finger didn't need guidance to the trigger, but its point needed to be shifted, or all Mort would do would clip Donovan in the shoulder. Definitely not enough to stop a seasoned killer. Getting the gun's eye to cooperate, Mort found a deciding factor on the other side and set off the report. The hard thud against the log was good enough proof. Donovan was dead.

He looked toward the other man, expecting to hear a rifle's echo, but Slim had already made his launch.

Hands attaching to the man's back, Slim spun him around. Seeing the eyes widen, Slim recognized his man was Hector. A second later, his man was wearing a fist inside of his face. The rifle went to the ground, but the knock wasn't going to be enough to produce eye closure, at least not for long.

Slim took a hard pound in his stomach, the barrel into him making his bottom collide with the earth. Bouncing back upright, Slim dodged the arm's swing, landing one against the opposing jaw instead. The smack made his knuckles smart, but while Slim's face scrunched with that wince, he was quick to produce another. Lip getting bloodied by Hec's stout ball, Slim reeled backward, but then was promptly pulled back to meet him when the hands attached to his jacket's collar.

He took another, the spin shifting his direction until Slim felt the waterfall's mist breathe across his cheeks. One more punch and he wouldn't just be balancing on the edge, but plunging right in. Seeing the hand that wanted his death come for him, Slim rolled, and as his leg jutted upright, the man struck it and fell.

The scream wasn't long, only until he met Hell's Entrance, and then Hector Davies' scream would switch to one that would last forever.

Slim was almost forced to breathe the same. The heaving of his chest went still when Mort's call slapped both sides of his face.

"Slim! The log is slipping!"

He was on top of it in one stride. The second movement was to lower his frame until Slim's entire weight was used to pull the large limb out of the waterfall's reach. But it would take more than muscle to get the body upright. The log wasn't the only thing that had been ready to let go. The rope was beginning to fray.

"Jess!" Slim shouted when he saw the arm start to drop and thrusting his upper half over the same side, reached until he felt his partner's weak touch. Slim's gloved fingers slid over the icy set, and stretching a little further, clamped his hand onto the palm. "I've got you, Pard."

Jess couldn't feel his body ride up and over the cliff's edge, but he knew he made the transition when he was flat on his back, the face above him etched in concern. But he understood exactly what the blue meant. He was safe. "S-Sl-im?"

"You bet." Slim nodded to the man beside him. "Mort too."

"Jess, sure good to see you."

Slim would have smiled, but while it was good to view Jess in one piece, there was too much of him to see. Slim's jacket coming off, he laid it over a certain place on Jess' frame. Laughter, it would fill in the rest. "You take the oddest times to go swimming, Pard."

"Ye-yeah. I th-thought-t-t I'd t-try l-life as-as a p-polar b-bear."

Mort's coat now off, he wrapped it up to Jess' neck. "We need to get him warmed up."

"I can build a fire the size of a mountain, but what he really needs is to be in bed."

"Could take him on into town. I'd image there're some warm bed linens at Dooley's. What do you say, Jess?" Mort's mouth gave a short twist at their shared bit of humor. "Jemima's?"

How he could wink when his lashes were about to break off, but Jess did. He with his rocks and nails stamina. "S-sounds f-f-fine t'me."

"Wait a minute." Slim rocked back on his heels. "How do you two know anything about Jemima anyway? She's got the kind of stuff that's off limits to most."

Mort smiled, and then became Jess' several week old echo. "I think the bigger question is, Slim. How do you know about her?"

"Well, I…" Slim finally understood the jest when Mort's head shook along with his laughter, and then giving his partner's shoulder a playful slap, he motioned toward the ranch. "Let's get him home. Soup'll do what warm blankets can't."

"S-s-soup-p-p? You got-ta-ta b-be k-k-kidd-din m-me."

"All right, all right. A steak. Come on, Mort. Let's go before he thinks we're edible and starts chewing into our hides."

.:.

"Well I'll be dadgummed."

"What, Jess?" Slim asked, his jacketed arms full of firewood as both the kitchen stove and fireplace needed more fuel.

Jess' blue shirt jerked out of its fold at his chest to wave at the ground in front of him. "Snow. And before Halloween, too."

"You're in Wyoming, Jess."

An eyebrow, along with his quizzical gaze, lifted to the sky. The gray fluff above him was about to release another flake. He just knew it. Yep. There it was, and it dared to land on his nose. "How could I forget?"

"Aw, you're just sore because it means more work. To me, it just means home."

"You wouldn't feel so smug about snow if you'd been reared in Texas like I was."

Slim raised a shoulder. "And here I thought you'd learned to love it by now."

"What? Me, love snow? You gotta be…" His jaw could have been dropped, his tongue could have expelled something worse than his usual sideways version of profanity, heck, he could have even turned into such an angry state that the ten inches of snow would have turned into an immediate pond. But Jess did a peculiar thing. He smiled.

"Gee, Jess, I'm sorry." Mike ran to stand in front of Jess, the remnants of the snowball that he accidently flung into Jess' face being brushed off of his gloved hands. "I really didn't mean to."

Taking his bare fingers over his face to remove what clung to his cheeks, Jess blinked the rest of the white stuff out of his eyelashes, and the smile was still there. Even more, it had spread so that his teeth showed.

"Slim." Mike tugged on the sleeve of Slim's winter coat. "What's wrong with Jess?"

"I don't know," Slim answered, just as surprised as Mike that Jess wasn't howling from the snowball's intense sting.

"There ain't nothing wrong with me." Leaning over, Jess packed up a wad of snow between his hands until it was a firm ball. "But I reckon getting doused in that frigid waterfall done and hardened me up for good."

"You mean…" Slim pointed to the snow in Jess' hand "…you don't hate snow anymore?"

"Sure. I mean, it's got its good points, ain't it?"

Slim couldn't prevent his head cock. "Like what?"

"Like this," Jess answered, his arm going backward to get the momentum he needed to fling the snowball in Slim's direction. But his partner did a horrible thing. He ducked. Exactly the moment Daisy walked out of the house.

"Oh!"

"Uh-oh," Mike said, scampering behind the skirt to run into the house, certain that the two men were going to get it now.

"Gee, Daisy, I'm sorry," Jess said, his hand immediately wiping the snow from Daisy's face.

She let the apron around her waist do the finishing touches, getting the last droplet out of her hair. "And to think I was coming out here to tell you boys that there's hot apple cider in the kitchen. And I get this!"

Jess' thumb caressed the edge of her mouth. "Well, I mean, you ain't gonna pour it out now, are you?"

"Shouldn't I?"

"You can't do that, Daisy. After all I went through last week, plumb near freezing my…" His cheeks burst into flames as he looked over Daisy's head to Slim's wide eyes. "I mean after nearly getting froze stiff, I still need all the heat I can wrap myself around."

"Uh-huh." Daisy nodded, her smile quick to light. "So that must be why you're out here in the snow with no hat, no jacket and no gloves on."

"What can I say? It's therapeutic."

"Where'd you ever learn a word like that?"

"You said it, Daisy. When I was hurt and you wanted to feed me nothing but soup. I ain't sure what it means, though."

Her arm went around Jess' waist to give him a squeeze. "It means healing, Jess."

"Then I reckon I gotta whole lot of therapeutics. You and Mike, and ol' Hardrock here."

"I think the real word you're looking for Jess, is family." The hugging of his frame increased when Daisy felt the return. "And love."

"Yeah. I reckon." Jess nodded, his mouth in a rise. "But can we have that cider now, or do I gotta start shivering again to prove it necessary?"

"Come on in, Jess. You can have all the cider you can hold."

Slim held the door as they entered, the warmth on its other side inviting enough without the hot liquid that would follow, although plenty of that was consumed, as was the joy shared around their table.

Family. If it has all the right components, it can get through, get over, and get by with anything. Sometimes a person makes a wrong choice and it all goes lost, but when love is truly put first, that emotion has the power to reside in each heart forever.