Author's Note: I don't know how to italicize on a web site so when I write something that's actually supposed to be written (i.e. a letter.. hint hint, nudge nudge) it'll be separated by these: ~. Time passing is, like, this star-thing: * Ass-ter-something?

MommiesGirl: I think I know the real story of Jesse James.. of how he was a serious murderous outlaw, not really the charismatic one that the movies have made him out to be. How Zerelda Mimms was his wife. And his cousin. How he wasn't the good guy at all, he was more or less in it for himself. But I'm going with the movie storyline, and Ali Larter bugs me. So I ditched her character, that's all. It's just how I did it. But if I'm completely inaccurate about the real story, I'd love to know the actual one if you wouldn't mind summarizing.

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Just about a week later, Jim was up and about, though still irrefutably sore. The wound wasn't too serious; it had created a small hole that went straight through front to back, making it easy to thread up. It was covered with gauze and wrapped tightly to prevent full movement so that it wouldn't reopen and start bleeding again. Just to be safe, the doctor had suggested that he use a sling as well, and with some initial complaining, Jim finally agreed to do so. Only because Cole had told Jim that if he didn't, he'd go out of his way to make it painful for him.

Currently, he was playing cards with Bob, Tom, and Clell, and losing badly. Mostly because whenever he'd put his chips in, he'd leave his cards face-up without realizing. He did only have one hand to work with, after all. At first, he'd accused them of cheating. When he'd followed Bob's gaze, finally, he'd noticed the state of his cards. Taking a more careful outlook on how he laid his hand on his later turns, he started to fair better. But he had seen Cole and Frank move off to a table in the back of the inn as if they were conspiring about something, and it had distracted him. Hence: His losing badly.

"C'mon, Jim, you in or you out?" Bob urged from across the round table, motioning to his cards with his free hand. Jim tore his gaze away from Cole.

After a moment of consideration, he craftily shifted his cards onto the table facedown and threw in a few chips.

"In," he said simply, though he wasn't done talking. "What do y'think it is that they're lookin' at over there?"

Tom glanced up casually, shuffling his cards, as he had nothing better to do. Clell didn't bother raising his head as Bob shifted uncomfortably. Jim raised a dark brow to his older brother and leaned back on his chair. Bob knew something and it was making him a bit too squeamish for Jim's liking.

"Dunno," Bob answered, refusing to release any real information. Frank would tell Jim when he saw fit.

"Gosh damn, Bob," Jim sounded frustrated. "You'll tell me if I win this game?"

"Tell you what? I ain't got nothin' t'tell you."

"Fine," Jim scowled. He let it be. Bob was rarely one to break. He still didn't know who took momma's last fresh-baked muffin the morning that they'd left Liberty. He assumed it was Cole, but Bob wouldn't say anything at all about it.

"Tom, you in or you out?" Bob tilted his almost bowler version of a cowboy hat to one side as Tom contemplated.

"Out."

"Alrigh' then. I'm in," he grinned broadly at Clell and Jim. Jim rolled his eyes, knowing that his brother was bluffing, but keeping silent. "Any'a you pansies want out, now?"

"Naw," was McClelland's muttered reply. Bob glanced at his friend sideways, and then shook his head slightly.

"Hell no, I'm still in," Jim pushed himself back lightly, rearing the front legs of his chair.

"Good. Call."

"Four of a kind," Clell put his cards down slowly. Bob groaned and threw his cards down in disgust.

"Damn poker, wasn't never no good at it anyway," he grumbled as he stood up and walked away. He needed to cool off. His cards landed face-up, proving Jim's theory that he was bluffing true. He had one pair.

Jim chuckled and watched him go before looking back to Clell. "Beat me too."

There was the slightest hint of smile on Clell's face before he stood up from the table.

Across the room, Cole and Frank were still talking. Jim eyed them curiously before leaving the table as the winner and the loser had moments before. He picked up his Little Joe, the one with the flat top and the wide rims, and tucked it under his damaged arm. He'd go lay down for now. Not that he was tired, but he didn't quite have anything else to do. Bob was drinking, Clell was uninteresting, and Tom had suddenly disappeared. He seemed to be unusually good at doing that. He started for the stairs, but he heard Cole call him.

"Jim, c'mere a second, will you?" he sounded almost grave. Jim turned with his brow raised, unsure of what the tone meant. He approached the table and sat next to Cole, slumping a bit.

"Yeah?"

"Y'know how Jesse's been writin' us 'bout Zee bein' sick n'all?" Frank inquired gently.

Jim nodded, clearer on where this was going now. The back of his mind kept repeating "please let him say she's recovered, please let him say she's fine". He shifted a bit in his seat and looked to the two older men next to him.

"Well, we got this here letter while you was still recouperatin', and, well, just look.." Cole shoved the paper at him callously. Jim blinked.

"Cole, you know I ain't such a good reader."

Cole looked at him sternly and Jim shrugged. "Okay, Cole." His eyes dropped to the paper in his hand. The poor grammar and spelling mistakes actually made it easier to read.

~

March 9, 1868

Frank

I got your letter a few days ago but its been real busy round here. I was riting you before to tell you if Zee was looking better. She wasn't so Doc Mimms came down here to see what was rong with her and he said it wasn't looking real good for her. She died yesturday, Frank. Its only been a day and I miss her more than I ever missd any bodie. You said you'd be in Kernie for a while. I'm coming to meat you there. I can't stay here anymor it herts to much. If I leave tomoro then I can be there in a week maybe nine days. I'm coming evin if you don't want me to I can't stay here anymore.

Jesse ~

Jim finished, raising his eyes from the page now. He had cleared his throat and placed the letter down on the table. "That's dated March ninth. Innit the seventeenth?"

"We got it when you was restin' up. We was gonna tell you sooner, but just t'day is when y'started feelin' better," Frank answered him, folding his arms as he placed them on the table.

"So Jesse should be here anytime now?"

Cole nodded. "Could be later t'day, could be tommorr'a. Hell, he could'a chose not t'come after all. All we know is that Zee's dead an' Jesse's real hurt 'cause'a it."

Jim blinked. Jesse must be a wreck by now. Either that or he'd completely shut himself up and become like Tom. Or worse, Clell. Jim shuddered a little and his gaze darted back to Frank and Cole. Frank tossed his head towards the stairs, wordlessly signifying that Jim was free to continue with what he was going to do. Jim opened his mouth to say something, but instead sighed and pushed himself from the table with his free hand.

" I'm goin' t'lie down or somethin'. Lemme know if he comes, alrigh'?"

Cole waved his hand dismissively at his younger brother, who scowled but made no point to argue anything. It just wasn't the time to bicker about little things like this. He nodded his head slowly and turned, walking towards and up the stairs at the same pace. He reached the room that he woke up in three days ago and tossed the hat onto a chair as he passed. He plopped down onto the bed and carefully removed his sling.

It was quite the ordeal to remove his shirt. He'd thought about turning back halfway through trying to take it off, but he'd never get it back on again if he did. He realized that since he'd already committed to taking it off, he might as well go the whole nine yards. At one point, he'd turned his shoulder in such a way that was so painful he wanted to scream. But he didn't. He gritted his teeth and with some resolve managed to shed his top successfully. With some amount of anger behind it, he threw the shirt across the room and then lay back on his bed tiredly. He breathed in deep and placed his hand behind his head as his brows furrowed in thought. About fifteen minutes passed before Jim's eyelids drooped and he was dozing lightly.

***

Three hours later, after a sizeable nap, Jim woke to the sound of cheery piano music. He sat up slowly, the reddish haze of dusk flooding through the glass of the window and reflecting off the mirror on the far side of the room. The piano plunked away as he stood and shuffled over to the shirt he had thrown on the ground hours previous. It was easier getting it on than it was taking it off. Jim stored that away in the back of his head as he grabbed his hat and left the room, heading downstairs.

At night, Kearney Inn transformed itself into a Saloon, complete with a bar, music, and plenty of "entertainment". Tonight was not an exception, for the lights were bright, the bar was filled, and women were wandering everywhere amidst the uneven sound of the unmanned piano. It was crowded, too crowded for Jim's liking, but he couldn't very well tell them all to leave, now could he?

"Jim!" someone called from within the gathering of people. A hand shot up and Jim headed in the general direction of it. "Jim, c'mere!"

"I'm comin', I'm comin'," he grumbled as he headed over to the area, his right hand tucked into his gray slacks. He had forgotten his sling, but maybe Cole wouldn't notice.

As he closed the distance between the one calling him and himself, he noticed that there was a good mass of people surrounding a table off to his left. He raised a brow, curious as to what went on in the three hours he'd been sleeping, and finally met up with Bob, apparently the one who was calling him.

"Bob?"

"Cole told me t'come an' get'cha, but I saw you comin' down the stairs anyhow. Good timin', I might add," Bob nodded slowly, jutting out his bottom lip in an effort to look impressed.

"What? Why?" Jim's sleep-muddled brain hadn't quite remembered what it had requested he'd be woken up for.

"You dense or somethin'? Jesse's here!"

"Oh, yeah, right." Jim pushed himself onto the balls of his feet and craned his neck over the crowd enveloping the table to see Jesse James leaning back in his chair with his booted feet on the tabletop. There were numerous shot glasses around him, most full, but many empty. A little disappointed, Jim sank back down to press his heels to the floor and backed up. They were trying to get him drunk, and he wasn't refusing. Jim hadn't ever seen Jesse drunk, he usually had more sense than that. But maybe sense was something Jesse had lost when Zee died. He couldn't be sure as he backed up and scooted in between patrons to find his way outside. He was stopped when someone violently jerked on his right shoulder and turned him around.

"Cole, the hell're you doin'?" he asked angrily as he realized that Cole was the one that had spun him.

"Where're you goin', ain't y'gonna see Jesse?"

"He looks a lil' busy, is all, Cole."

"Ah, those're jus' some fans that spotted him when he rode up," Cole was looking Jim over now. He'd become aware of the fact that Jim had refused to put on his sling. Jim touched his arm self-consciously, unnerved by Cole's gaze. To his relief, Cole said nothing about it. Instead, he placed a hand on Jim's back and pushed him in Jesse's direction.

Jim almost stumbled into the mess of people, but saved himself at the very last moment by latching onto a nearby chair. He stood up, turning to glare at Cole before wordlessly making his way to the table that seemed to be getting more popular by the second. He parted a few men and was nearly behind Jesse, who had Frank by his right. He'd missed something, because suddenly the group was laughing at something obviously hysterical. As the only one not laughing, apparently he stood out, and Frank spotted him. He tapped Jesse on the shoulder to get his attention and the pointed to Jim. Jesse turned and offered a surprisingly sober smile.

"Jim!" he had to shout over the clamor of the others around him. "C'mon an' sit."

Jim sat. He glanced up at a man who leaned over and put another shot on the table. "Jesse, who are all these people?"

"Got me," Jesse said with a bit of a laugh. "But they're buyin'!"

Jim smirked. He sounded stable enough, but was this just a façade or was the alcohol talking? He motioned to a random shot glass, raising a dark brow. Some juvenile part of him wanted to show his older, famous cousin that he had learned to drink in the past year. "You mind?"

"When'd you stop bein' too young for whiskey, Jim?" he seemed amused. "Go 'head."

"'Bout nine months ago," he picked up the glass and downed it in one gulp, opening his mouth with an "aah" sound before he turned the glass upside down and placed it on the table.

"Pretty good at it, too, ain't he, Jesse?" Frank chimed in from his seat.

"Yeah," he agreed absently as he noted the way Jim was holding himself. "Jim, you alright?"

Jim glanced at his shoulder and nodded. "Yeah, fine. Jus' got in a lil' tussle with some posse members a few days back."

Jesse understood then that he'd been away from his brother and cousins a long time. It hadn't seemed as long, seeing as he'd spent it with Zee. Damn, he was thinking about her again. He couldn't stop; it was too hard to avoid anything having to do with her. Well, at least he didn't tear up every time like he used to. And he got out of that house, where every room there were traces of her, memories that he had forgotten until he reentered the area. It was better this way, he assured himself as he looked up to Jim and turned his head to Frank, because they would help him move on.

"Jesse?" Frank had placed his hand on his brother's shoulder, gripping it a little to get his attention. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I was jus' thinkin', y'know?" he said, turning his head to speak to Jim, who had apparently left. "Where'd Jim go?"

"Dunno," Frank shrugged, removing his hand. His eyes were suddenly looking past him at somebody. "I think Cole wants t'talk."

Jesse turned. Indeed, Cole stood near the back of the room with Tom, Clell, Bob, and Jim, staring at Jesse intently. Turning to face his strange gathering of admirers he lifted a hand and stood.

"Thanks for the drinks, fellas. Y'can help yourselves to 'em, if y'all want," he and Frank pushed through the collection of men and women to get to Cole.

"We still leavin' for Savannah tonight, right Frank?"

"Savannah? What's in Savannah?" Jesse leaned against the wall as he furrowed his brows.

"Our next big haul," Cole answered him smartly, looking back to Frank expectantly. Frank hesitated, his eyes darting to Jesse. Cole sighed impatiently.

"Whad'dya say, Jesse? You up for some robbin'?"

Jesse's eyes rose to the ceiling in thought. He wanted to go, he'd be bored out of his mind if he didn't, but it was a question of if he loved Zee enough to not go back. He'd quit for a reason, for her, and if he suddenly gave that all up.. did that mean he didn't love her anymore? No, he was sure that he did love her, but she was gone. Jesse James wasn't going to be constricted by his wife from beyond the grave, no matter how much he loved her.

"Sounds good."

There were a couple of hoots from Cole and Jim, and the entirety of the group was grinning, including Clell.

"Well alrigh'! Jesse James is back in the game," Bob clapped Jesse on the back and Jesse began to smile as well.

"We're ready to go, too," Tom offered, motioning to the horses waiting patiently outside. "Me an' Clell took care of the horses so that we'd be able to leave whenever we wanted."

"We should be headin' out now, anyway. Y'all had your fun. Time t'get down t'buisness," Cole seemed insistent, but maybe he was just excited. "Everyone's ready t'head out, right?"

The gang nodded their heads sporadically, waiting for Cole to start walking outside. They followed obediently, in silence, spreading themselves out in pairs. If it were a movie, it'd be the epitome of cool, complete with background music that expressed exactly how cool it was. They mounted their horses after untying them, turning them all in the direction of Savannah, Missouri. The beasts snorted impatiently, shaking their heads as they waited for someone to tell them to go. Bob looked to Cole, who nodded in a wordless sort of approval. Bob grinned.

"Let's ride!" he shouted as he dug his heels into the horse's flanks and it took off. Jesse was surprised at this as well. He started off riding, catching up to Frank.

"Bob says that, still? Cole's still lettin' him?"

"Sounds stupid, don't he?"

"Just a bit."