The Least Expected

Their entry into the house was with weapons still holstered. Although considering what the three men were worth, they could have easily entered the Sherman ranch house fully loaded. When their knock was answered with a welcoming smile from a weathered man, the oldest of the brothers turned toward the younger two and gave a short nod. No need for irons here. Just go in, eat, and get back out.

But it could never be that simple.

"You want some more coffee?" Jonesy asked, holding the steaming spout over the youngest member's cup, ready to pour with one nod. It never came, only a blank expression, and Jonesy found his eyes wandering to the oldest.

"Sheldon." The man that wore a deeper set of lines around his eyes barked, getting a head to spin as the boy was released from whatever thought he had been lost in, no matter how empty it may have been. "The man asked if you want some more coffee."

"Huh? Oh." He looked down at the cup, not quite empty, not quite full and then turned his eyes toward the crinkled, albeit somewhat puzzled gaze above him. "I thought we were gonna get whiskey."

"Later, Sheldon." The bark went deeper, like the teeth were ready to snap into flesh. "This is just lunch."

Jonesy glanced at the ticking clock on the mantel. Closer to supper, actually. But it didn't matter what they wanted to call their meal if the men that were doing the eating paid for it. He had yet to give them a number, and as the man that sat between the older and younger was on the rotund size and asked for seconds and then heaped-up thirds, the price wouldn't be a couple of the smallest coins.

The youngest one, Sheldon, now he didn't have a threatening appearance at all, even Jonesy could have handled him in a fight. It might have helped that the boy didn't seem all there. But the other two, Jonesy knew he wouldn't be able to lift a finger against. Only the shotgun if need be. As he walked back into the kitchen, his eyes sought the double barrel. Just close enough to reach, he figured.

"Hey, is there any more bread left?" This came from Portly in the middle

"A couple of slices," Jonesy answered, pausing with the plate raised, expecting another request. It came. And with a hint of a smile, Jonesy brought in the needed butter and jam to go with it.

"You're a good cook," said the man, devouring what was in front of him, not bothering to swallow the contents before adding words to his tongue. "Best I've tasted in a long time."

"Why, thank you!" Jonesy grinned, suddenly liking the man as it wasn't too often he got a hearty compliment. Usually all he heard was, "What? Mulligan again?"

"You about finished, though?"

Jonesy's head turned, the tone of the oldest darkening even further. Now this fellow, he didn't like. And he didn't want that sullied expression to swing toward him when he told them what all of their eats was going to cost. Because if Portly answered with a nod, then it was time for Jonesy to answer with open palm.

"Yeah, sure, Ben. One more finger swipe around the plate oughta do."

Thanks to Portly, Jonesy now knew the oldest man's name. Picking up the empty plate, Jonesy paused by Ben's chair. "If you're ready to go, that'll be two dollars."

Ben smacked his lips. "What for?"

"Why, for all of the food."

"I didn't notice a sign outside that said this was a restaurant."

"No, but it's a stage stop."

A smirk grew far enough to bend into Ben's cheeks. "We didn't come in on the stage."

"That doesn't matter. You asked for food. I gave it. You ate it. Now you pay for it."

Ben narrowed his eyes as he glared into Jonesy's. "No."

Now he needed the shotgun, and as Jonesy would have to turn around to get it, his intent would be too obvious, and he likely would get a gun butt over his head. Or worse. He dared to take one step backward toward the iron, but Ben's eyes went with him. At the sight of the shotgun behind Jonesy, still out of reach without a leap, Ben's pistol came into his hand.

"I wouldn't try that," Ben warned.

"Try what?" Jonesy shrugged, attempting to look the part of a non-threat. That was something he could do well.

Ben tipped his head to the side. "You know. And you'd do better to take a wide step around that thing until well after we're gone."

"You've got nothing to worry about," Jonesy said, but hearing the familiar thuds approaching the kitchen door, he had a lot to worry about. Slim and Jess. Or maybe his greater fear was trotting in the two men's shadows. Andy.

Unfortunately, Jonesy wasn't the only one that had ears keen enough to catch the steps. Portly's gun went into his fist the moment Ben started to stand. Now two of the three were armed, and the unsuspecting hands on the other side of the door would be empty.

Jonesy's tongue slid over his lips, but he couldn't be satisfied with the mere touch. There had to be a warning to go with it. "Slim, Jess! Watch out!"

A bull would have had a more considerate reaction to being rankled.

Slamming into the wall from the hit, Jonesy's back screamed for mercy, the rest of his body, the same. Portly's grip into his shoulders refused to let up, even after the door was burst open and two ranch partners, angry before, but now fuming, stood on Portly's other side.

Slim's eyes snapped with the same fire that jumped off of his tongue. "Leave him alone."

Ben waved the gun close enough to Slim's nose that if the barrel would have been a real eye, it could have counted the little hairs that were there. "After you drop your irons, belt and all, to the ground."

They didn't need further convincing. The two blues connected briefly and then doing it one handed, released their belts, the clop to the floor done in unison.

Slim's glare was reserved for the man that was the apparent boss. "Now what?"

"Yeah, Ben," Portly said, taking his food-tainted breath away from Jonesy's face long enough that the older man could finally pull in some fresher air. "What are we gonna do?"

"I thought we just came here to eat, Ben." Sheldon finally pushed his seat away from the table. "You said you didn't want our name in these parts until the Longmire Brothers took out the Cheyenne bank. Are we gonna change that instead and roll 'em over here?"

Ben's grip on his gun tightened. Even though it never changed directions, the hard look that passed between older to youngest brother sparked with such severity, everyone else in the room expected its point to go to the one with the innocent bat to his lashes.

"Well, laying low was the intent, Sheldon," Ben said, the growl in his throat like an angry rattlesnake that was about to strike. "But it looks like to keep our plan in Cheyenne quiet, we can't just tie these fellows up."

Portly's head bent toward the man he still held in his clasp. "Kill them?"

"We have to. So much for getting fed and moving on."

Jonesy quirked a brow. "You could've just paid what you owed, either that or not eat so much."

Portly's hand connected like fire to Jonesy's cheek.

"Leave him alone!" Slim's leap was cut short by the gun pressing into his ribcage.

"Why?" Ben shrugged, keeping his iron trained into the heaving flesh. "What does it matter what's done to him, or any of you for that matter, when we're gonna kill you all?"

"You gonna do it here, Ben?" Sheldon asked, a strange look in his eyes, almost that of delight.

"No," Ben answered roughly. "It's no good to leave bodies wide open. Besides, I don't want to take time to do burying. Let the wolves and buzzards take care of what's left."

The strange look was now a haunting glow. "Can I kill one, Ben?"

"We'll see, Sheldon." Ben looked over each man in his gun's possession. Only the older one looked weak, but even he would likely bray a bit when it came to putting a barrel into his skull. He definitely wouldn't trust Sheldon's slower wit to handle the tall blonde or the other one with the spitfire in his eyes. "But more'n likely none of these men here are your size. Best leave this kinda beef for me and Link to chew on."

None of the Sherman household had forgotten the smallest member, but at the mention of there being a lack of a match to Sheldon's size, everyone's thoughts honed tightly onto Andy. Only Slim and Jess knew where he was. While they were walking up, checking on a heifer due to calve, Andy had put his boot in a particularly ripe pie. He was just at the fence line giving the heel enough slaps to relieve it of its pungency.

At any moment he could come bursting through that door, and give Sheldon a body that was just his right size to kill.

Since Slim's life was close to being lost, all he could think of was to save the one that still had his firmly attached. He quickly inhaled the air that was molasses-thick around him. "You lollygag much longer and the buzzards you are talking about won't be sitting on their perches anymore, but flying far away to find something better to peck on."

Ben's glare had the sear of a branding iron. "You in a hurry to die, or something?"

"No. But I figure you'd be in a hurry to run."

"Sure we will. Run right over to Cheyenne and whack their bank open."

"Come on, Ben," Link said, even though Jonesy's mind would keep addressing him as Portly. "He's right. Taking our time is just asking for more bodies to dispose of. This is a stage stop remember?"

"Of course I remember, what do you think I am? A nitwit like..."

Ben quickly pulled his eyes away from Sheldon. His youngest brother might be rather empty headed since birth, but there was no point testing his ability to understand the kind of description Ben was about to heap on him. Sheldon's teeth could snag into his hide just as easily as one of these men destined for a grave. Thinking of such...

His gun swung toward the two ranchers. "Get outside."

Experience allowed Jess to give the slightest movement of his eyes in Andy's direction. His blue connecting and then pulling away, it was one with the kind of craft that wouldn't tip off the men holding them at gunpoint that there was another family member present. But Slim couldn't trust his gaze to not linger. Keeping his head in a forward position, the air had a strange quiver around him. Fear, he guessed it was, but Slim also held a measure of faith that Andy was going to remain beyond the outlaws' sight.

Maybe it was because Jess' stance remained solid beside him. If Jess thought Andy's life was even close to dangling over the same kind of empty holes that they were, he would be fighting until every bullet in their irons had slammed into his flesh.

Since Jess was so close, he dared take in the expression that he wore. He received a nod and understood. Andy was safe.

Seated on the ground, Andy's back was against the sign pointing the way to Laramie. Enough of a screen that if he stayed lowered he would remain hidden. They still had a stretch to get through before that affirmation could be completed. It was about to get its first, and perhaps most difficult test.

"Up that way," Ben said, his finger rising to the hillside behind the barn.

He had been forced to take the boot off, and instead of balancing on one leg to keep his sock from being almost as soiled as the sole, Andy put his backside against the ground. Chipping away at what was a cow's worst feature, Andy's head spun at the unfamiliar voice. When he saw the guns, more than his backside was in the dirt. He put his belly flat against it.

Maybe Slim heard his movement, Andy didn't know, but Slim must have flinched, for the closest gun pressed into his back. Andy held his breath.

"Just keep moving. And here I thought you were anxious to die."

"Not anxious at all," Slim answered, his bluff strong.

In reality, he had all the different prongs of worry sticking into his flesh. He had heard Andy's body, maybe it was him slapping dirt, but he had expected the gun to swing to what lay behind. Instead it went sharply into Slim's flesh. A better place than pointing at his little brother, but any ease at that thought couldn't come.

The walk up the hill wasn't meant to be slow, and as the incline was started, reaching the top only allowed a clock's hand to tick upward once. Andy waited another minute for them to disappear on the other side before slowly rising, but once his single boot hit the ground, he was running.

His very first thought was to put his backside onto his horse and let the hooves fly toward Laramie. That one was quick to be forgotten. The feeling inside of him was way too strong that he would be too late. Whoever led Slim, Jess and Jonesy up the hillside meant business, immediate business. Even at that moment, Andy was afraid he would hear the triple blasts of death.

No, if there was any help coming for his family, it was up to him.

Kitchen door coming open with a bang, Andy saw the discarded holsters on the floor. It was only a moment's hesitation, but when there were lives hanging in the balance, even a second felt like an eternity. Reaching down, Andy put the pair of irons and their leather seats in his clasp. What exactly he was going to do with them hadn't seen creation's dawn in his mind, but he had to have something. Andy reiterated his decision. He had to do something!

Going up the hill in their steps, Andy struggled to keep the leather belts in hand. Sweat turned his palms into puddles, but there was also a particular nuisance attached to his legs. The quivering was so hard he couldn't conduct a proper stride. But he was almost to the top so there was no point fretting over the irregular pattern he took getting up there, just what he was going to do now that he was in position. He went flat when he heard the unfamiliar voice, the performance coming from below as hard as his heart throbbed.

"Any last words?"

Slim swallowed, but the brick was still lodged. Yet even if he could have spoken with clarity, his final message wasn't for a killer to hear. He figured if he gave it to the Almighty instead that Andy would someday feel its delivery. His eyes trailed upward to focus on the cloud that seemed to rest on the hilltop.

I'm thankful that Andy'll keep on living. You'll do me proud, Andy. I know you will.

Slim's lips parted. He could at least handle a whispered, "Amen." But then a face rose into the puffy white and his prayer rapidly changed. Dear God, no!

Jess knew without looking, as he could sense the rigidity that Slim's backbone had made. Andy was somewhere close. With Ben in front of him, his iron controlling both his and Slim's frames, it was easy to know when the outlaw made the same discovery. Jess would have launched his body onto the man if the bullet was even an inch farther away.

"A kid!" Ben's gun momentarily went upward to search for the skull, but then he used it to beckon his brother. "Go after him, Sheldon. You wanted someone to kill, so drag the boy down here and then you can unload your pistol."

"No!"

Jess inwardly screamed the same, but it was Slim that released the vocal exclamation. And for perhaps the first time in Jess' life, he was too slow. His body was in the position to spring on Ben, but Slim beat him to it. The bullet showed an ounce of mercy and didn't rush into Slim's chest, but the butt of the iron wouldn't have the same compassion. Crashing it over Slim's head, he spun, and his capture was completed by Ben's arm circling his neck, one cinch away from being strangled.

With an arm tight around his neck holding him in place, Slim watched Sheldon run uphill, the man's eyes glazed over with passion's worst kind of sickness. The desire to kill. And Sheldon's target was his little brother.

Slim squirmed. "Andy knows nothing about you. Let him be and you and your brothers can still ride out of here."

"His eyes and ears caught enough," Ben answered, giving Jess a cold enough stare to keep his boots still. Otherwise Ben would have to pull the trigger before Sheldon returned with the boy. But shouldn't he have caught up by now? Ben raised his head along with his voice. "Hurry up, Sheldon!"

Andy ducked behind a rock, the steps in pursuit the same volume as the man's bellow from the other side of the hill. He might have been armed, twice if he could fill both hands properly, but while Andy had slid Jess' gun out of its holster, he put it right back inside. He could shoot a target up close if he had to. And likely if it got that far, he would have to, but despite how often he pretended as such, Andy was not Jess Harper. He wasn't ready to kill. Probably not even ready to maim.

But there were three men that could. The three outlaws, for sure, but the ones Andy really had in mind was Slim, Jess and Jonesy.

"I've gotta get down there." His teeth were quick to insert into his bottom lip, afraid that the man after him would hear.

Andy dared peek around his secure wall. No. The man's aim was toward the house. Good, that way Andy could slip back down the hill, closer to the base this time, hopefully not being seen.

The grass tickled his face as Andy crawled, but the part on his body that had a more serious itch was his hand. As he lowered himself into position, Andy had wrapped his fingers around Jess' gun. It wouldn't do much seated inside its holster, but this way, even if the tremors assaulted him with such ferocity that a bullet would go directly into the ground, Andy had lead's protection.

Within a few feet of the cluster of men, Andy barely raised his head. Immediately his breath went still. Slim was caught in one of the men's clutches, arm so tight around Slim's neck that he could hear his brother's struggle for air. The fat man had his hand clamped onto Jonesy's vest, keeping him well within reach of the insides of his gun. Jess was the only one free. But even that wasn't accurately assessed. Slim's life was in a precarious dangle right in front of him. One twitch from Jess' frame and Slim would be dead. In fact, all of them could be the same within seconds.

He barely licked his lips, the dryness so severe it crackled like fire the moment Andy removed his tongue. If only he had the bravery to stand up and bark out the order to let Slim go. If only he could put a bullet precisely into the leg of the fat man so Jonesy could be released. If only there wasn't a third man, coming on top of the hill that would see him clearly.

"Ben!"

"What now?"

"I can't find the kid..." Wild eyes suddenly oozing with passion, Sheldon pointed his finger. "There he is, Ben! Right behind you!"

Andy had heard Jess tell a lot of stories about winning gun battles. One of the most common reoccurrences was that sometimes in the heat of the battle, all that was needed was one second to get the win. Andy was just given his. The moment Ben and the fat man's heads swung in his direction, Andy reacted with a similar speed that would have brought an iron off of his hip if that was where its home was. But he had already been wearing Jess' gun in his hand. And that's exactly where it needed to go. In Jess' hand.

The gun sailed through the air. "Jess, catch!"

Momentum swinging Slim's way, as Jess' hand caught the iron, Slim's boot went backward, clopping the knee behind him so hard he heard it crack. The next crack was out of Jess' weapon, the bullet going into Link's shoulder. When the two men stumbled backward, falling to the ground in consecutive thuds, their two captives were suddenly released. Slim and Jonesy's first act was to put the two guns in their possessions and make the proper aim.

There was still one more.

"Up there!" Andy shouted as he watched Sheldon's pistol coming out, the steps long as he hurried downhill.

"Easy boy," Jess said, iron in a straight point as his other hand went wide. "I don't wanna have to shoot you, but if you don't put that thing up, you're gonna force the bullet out."

Sheldon's aim was also a direct line, not a single wobble. It was his voice that was doing all the shaking. "You shot my brother."

"Yeah." Jess nodded slowly, letting the last bob go toward Link, clutching his shoulder where he lay. "He had it coming."

"So do you."

"I reckon you think so, but let's make the rest of this go the easy route. Put your gun on the ground."

"I only do what Ben says."

Slim cast his eyes quickly at the oldest brother. "Tell him to put it down, Ben. You and Link are still alive, let's keep Sheldon that way too."

It wasn't quite a sigh, the noise coming from his throat closer to a growl. But whatever it really was, it was the sound of defeat. "Drop it, Sheldon."

The eyes had lost their lust for death, replaced with an emptiness that couldn't be fathomed unless you were the man behind the fog. Head lolling to the side and then down to his chest, Sheldon let go of his gun. Jess was quick to stuff the one in hand inside of the belt at his waistline and then grabbed the one surrendered to the dust.

Lungs were prone to release air when tension was let go. Four chests pushed out the heaviness through their mouths in unison, eyes coming together with a glint.

"That was a lot closer than most, at least for me anyway," Jonesy said, taking a step away from Portly, but never losing him behind his gun.

"For all of us." Slim motioned for Andy, and soon had his brother in a one-armed embrace. "You saved our lives, Andy."

"Oh, but Jess was the one that fired the shot, and you took that other fellow down with a kick."

"Don't skirt the hero's praise, Andy," Jess said, giving his little partner a wink. "Slim's right. None of that woulda happened if it hadn't been for you. I must have the kinda stuff that rubs off on unsuspecting skin."

Slim tried to hide his grin behind a frown. "I hope not."

"Aw, dadgummit, Slim. You know I'm just joshing."

"Uh-huh".

Jonesy swung his gun toward the trio. "What'll we do with 'em Slim? Stage line's not gonna appreciate us loading up these low-levels on the Laramie run, especially if there's nail- biting passengers on board."

"Jess and I can ride them in. Actually, Andy and I can ride them in. I think he deserves all the recognition he can get today. Come on, Andy, help me lead them home."

Eyeing the men astride their saddles, tied so they couldn't break free, Jess crossed his arms over his chest. "Looks like the Longmire brothers are gonna be put away for a long time."

"In mire up to their ears, to boot."

"Dadgum, Jonesy."

He shrugged. "Had to say it while I had the chance. Oh wait, one more thing..."

Slim, Jess and Andy watched as Jonesy walked up to Ben, the grin on the old man's face unwavering as he reached into Ben's pocket. Taking the two coins in hand, he gave them a clank.

"You should've just paid what you owed, either that or not eat so much."