LIES AND CONSEQUENCES

by Saddletramp

Home for summer break, Andy falls in with a bad crowd, leading to his arrest. When his cronies break him out of jail, they go on the run. While Mort and Slim hunt the fugitives, Jess takes it upon himself to find Andy. As usual, nothing goes as planned resulting in murder, mystery and mayhem. NOTE: This story stands on its own but ends in a cliff hanger. Sequel already in process

LIES AND CONSEQUENCES

CHAPTER ONE – THE GUN

Shrouded in its protective cloth, it lay silently in the darkness. It was a work of manufacturing genius; a piece of metal which could spew fire and death in the blink of an eye. It had lain there for years, unused but never forgotten. Its use was behind it. The days of being its owner's sole companion were over – or so everyone thought. The bone grip had been worn to fit only one hand, a hand which until now, had found no use for it anymore. A piece of cold steel, it couldn't hear the fireplace brick being coaxed out of its resting place. It couldn't feel the calloused hand lift it gently, hesitantly, and reverently. Holding it again, Jess Harper felt long ago feelings of hate and anger; feelings he thought he had left behind while building his new life. His handsome face was set in a serious, grimly clenched jaw as he lifted the protective cloth away, exposing the polished weapon. A practiced hand spun the chamber before solemnly sliding bullets into their respective places. With a final spin of the chamber, he settled it into the holster on his right hip. It fit the well-oiled holster like it had never left.

Two gloved hands rested on the doorframe which separated the sleeping quarters from the room in which he stood. He bowed his dark-haired head in sorrow before sighing a silent sigh then casting his cobalt eyes upwards, seeking reassurance, strength and courage. If those who slept peacefully in their beds could have seen, they would have seen blue eyes filled with abject misery as he anticipated the forthcoming confrontation. No matter what happened in the next few days, his time here was done. Even if everything went right, he knew he could not return to this place he called home. Home, his heart lurched at the ache he felt, the loneliness he knew he would once again encounter, and the loss of everything which meant anything to him.

Hesitating only a moment while he contemplated the next few hours, if not days, Jess paused, asking for forgiveness for what he was about to do. He knew he had to do what he had to do. There was no one else who could do it; no one else with the speed, the skill, and the reputation. No, it was up to him to protect his new family. It could mean an end to the Jess Harper he had become. It could mean he'd be on the run again, dodging the law, a wanted outlaw. If it all worked as planned, Andy would be safe back home with Slim but mourn his leaving, or even hate him; Slim would know and understand, yet regret the actions taken by his friend. Jonesy would say he'd "never trusted that varmint anyway" but would hold his own counsel when no one was watching. That left the Sheriff, Mort Cory. Under other circumstances, Jess was pretty sure he would have had no qualms about bucking the law. But he had become friends with the Sheriff and trusted him. It was a friendship he cherished and it pained him that he might have to betray that trust. But Mort had sworn to uphold the law. And therein lie the rub. No matter what, Mort would be a lawman first. If necessary, Jess would do everything in his power to evade being captured; even if it meant having to harm someone he thought highly of. It was the only way and he regretted knowing how things could end, hoping against hope that the extreme measures would not be necessary.

But it was because of the people who slept under this roof that he faced the morning with grim determination. He knew he was the only one who could be sacrificed, if that is what it would come to. Slim was a good and honest man. He'd spent a lifetime working to make the ranch and relay station profitable while raising his younger brother. And for that reason, Jess could not allow Slim to be put in harm's way. No, Slim was needed here to carry on. He was also the sole kin to the young boy, Andy. Unlike Slim, Andy had a wanderlust within him. He was still young, brash, and impatient to see the world. He needed Slim's example to follow; not the reckless ways of the drifter they had taken into their home. From the first day, Andy had envied Jess' travels and adventures. Even though Jess had relayed little of his life prior to landing at the ranch, Andy had built up a dream world wherein everything was exciting and he could do whatever and go wherever he pleased. Jess knew it was because of him that Andy had gotten into trouble. Enough that even after having called the Sherman Ranch home, Slim had asked him to leave the homestead; banished to the furthest ranch cabin until Andy straightened out. If Slim knew he'd come back to the house to get his gun, he'd be furious. Slim would take it to mean a betrayal of the trust he had given him; that his outlaw way of life had only been hidden and that he hadn't really changed after all. Slim had grown up in a world where everything could be quantified into black or white, and Jess forgave him any untoward thoughts he may have had in that regard. But Jess knew better. He'd been thrown into a life he didn't choose simply because he was good with a gun. And it was that skill that Jess would need to call upon if things were to work out.

From the corner of his eye, Jess saw Jonesy's door open and the elderly man step out into the room. Any other time, Jess would have found it comical to see Jonesy barefoot, in his night shirt and bowler hat. Seemed like Jonesy wore that hat 24 hours a day. But Jess was in no mood to laugh as he studiously avoided eye contact. Jonesy's eyes quickly noticed the mantel tile lying slightly askew. He didn't need to guess what that meant. Jess had come for his gunfighter gun.

"Trouble?" Jonesy asked quietly, receiving a small nod in response. "Andy?" Again, a nearly imperceptible nod. "Slim know?" This time he shook his head no. Jonesy's voice carried no surprise at seeing him, no accusation; only a belief that Jess would never come for his hidden gun unless circumstances demanded it. From the first day he'd arrived at the ranch, Jonesy had harangued him at every opportunity. Yet it was Jonesy who would push everyone – including Slim - out of his way in order to care for an ill or injured Jess.

With pain filled eyes, Jess nodded at the old man, a silent goodbye before easing himself out the door and mounting his horse. He took one last look at the place which had changed his life before turning and cantering away.

CHAPTER TWO – HOW IT ALL BEGAN

Sheriff Mort Cory didn't immediately look up when his office door slammed shut. He knew without looking that his doorway would be filled by the form of tall, slender, Slim Sherman, a local rancher and close friend. He also knew Slim was mad – and rightly so. However, it was not the Sheriff who Sherman was mad at. No, that honor belonged to the now 16-year-old Andy Sherman currently residing behind bars beyond the open door separating Mort's office from the jail cells.

Slim was obviously agitated as he sighed upon taking a chair across from the Sheriff. Removing his hat, he ran a tanned hand through his unruly blonde hair.

"What's the damage this time?" he asked, half afraid to find out the answer. He'd learned of his brother's arrest by way of stagecoach driver Mose. It was hay season and Slim could little afford the time it took to ride into town to fetch his brother, let alone pay any damages, fines or bail that may have been incurred. This was the third time in as many weeks that Andy had caused trouble in town. The crimes, and thus the expenses were growing exponentially. Mort was long on patience and tried to give Andy leeway before the youth and his friend's antics had left no choice but to arrest them for breaking the law. He'd been making his rounds when he'd heard the gunshot and been at Mr. Jonas' doorstep quickly. But he'd only been able to catch Andy while the other two wastrels disappeared into the night. He'd been looking for them since Andy's arrest but they were nowhere to be found.

It was with sadness that Mort shook his head at Slim's question. He rubbed a wrinkled hand over his drawn features before answering.

"It's bad this time, Slim." Mort began cautiously. "He broke into the mercantile. When Jonas caught him in the act, Andy or one of them two hooligans he's been hanging out with shot him."

Slim looked towards the jail cells. His brother was standing, hands wrapped around the bars, a defiant look upon his face. Mort continued on.

"Mr. Jonas wants Andy charged with breaking and entering and attempted murder. Now that they have been identified, the other merchants want to bring charges too. Andy's looking at some serious charges. The other two will be also, as soon as I run them to ground. Andy's been kicking over the traces lately and this time he's gone too far and was caught in the act. He'll have to stay in jail until Judge Garner arrives and sets bail – if he allows it."

Slim felt like he'd been kicked in the gut. He remembered how he had felt when his father had been labeled a traitor and now Andy's arrest was tearing him up again. Slim could still feel the emptiness and helplessness he had felt then. He vividly recalled how the town had turned on him and the shame he felt as being labeled a traitor's son. Only this time it was Andy causing him those feelings. Slim had worked hard to keep the family name honorable. He'd never been in trouble with the law – at least not like this. Minor skirmishes, yes, but never anything which might lead to a prison sentence. He swallowed hard. Andy was barely sixteen. This was serious, very serious.

Mort could read the anguish in Slim's eyes as he said, "I'm sorry, Slim, but that's just the way it's got to be."

Slim nodded slowly. "Can I see him?"

"Sure boy." Mort responded. "You can have all the time you want. Maybe you can set him straight."

Slim nodded again and rose to approach Andy. Peering at his brother through the bars, Slim was startled by the open hostility emanating from his brother. Before Slim could say anything, Andy launched into a verbal tirade.

"You'd best be getting me out of here." Stormed Andy.

"I can't. You heard Mort. There's no paying the fines this time, Andy. You'll have to wait to see if Judge Garner sets bail for you." Slim shook his head. "It's not like last time or the time before. This time you got caught in the act, hurt someone, and that's a serious offense."

"They ain't got no proof I was involved in them other crimes. I never hurt nobody." Snarled Andy, making Slim cringe at his poor grammar. "Just like everyone else, I heard the shot and came to see what was going on. I just happened to get there first, saw Jonas was hurt. He's mistaken. I wasn't part of no robbery." He lied. "Now I'm in here like I was some kind of criminal. Ain't no reason to keep me in here."

"Andy . . ." Slim began.

"Save it BIG BROTHER. You're supposed to look out for me. You promised Ma when she died. Now get me out of here."

Slim tried and failed to hide the pain those words invoked. The reference to his promise to their mom was a low blow, one Andy knew would cut Slim to the quick. Slim was surprised and was taken aback by Andy's entire attitude. He'd been somewhat rebellious in his younger years, always seeking adventure and wanting to travel. Slim thought sending him back east to school would have been the remedy. Slim's life was ranching, but it had been obvious from early on that Andy was destined for something else – something more. That's all he'd wanted for his brother, a chance to find his calling. But he never would have envisioned Andy turning against his upbringing. He'd tried keeping Andy on the straight and narrow. He'd sent him back east for a chance at the life he wanted, taught him right and wrong as best he knew how, and honestly couldn't understand where he had gone wrong.

When Andy started acting out, Slim and Jess had had a long discussion about how to fix it. Jess had been all for a good butt kicking, but that wasn't Slim's way. Since his return home for the summer, all Andy could talk about was his two new friends, adventure, and the owl hoot trail. He was still convinced that Jess had experienced "the life" prior to arriving at the ranch. Unable to dissuade Andy from his image of Jess' past, Jess had agreed to remove himself from the situation by going to the line cabin. It did no good as Andy and his friends had created their own excitement; their escapades culminating in the shooting of Mr. Jonas while breaking into the store. Slim shook his head. Apparently, he had failed as mentor, father, brother, and teacher. He had done all he could and there was nothing more he could do to save Andy from himself.

With slumped shoulders and sadness, Slim nodded to Mort as he exited the jail. Behind him, he could hear Andy, his voice still cracking as he matured into manhood, calling him names, and cursing him. Slim felt his heart breaking. This wasn't the brother he had raised and he didn't know what to do. He decided a drink at the local saloon was called for and crossed the street with that in mind.

CHAPTER THREE – A BAD START TO THE DAY

Slim awoke from a sound sleep when the rooster began to crow. He groaned at the pain at the back of his head. He'd barely been conscious when Jess had lowered him into his own bed, being careful to not awake the sleeping Jonesy. He didn't remember the rest of the night, but his head reminded him of his overindulgence trying to ease the pain caused by his baby brother's antics. For the first time, he was sorely tempted to just let Jess take care of the morning chores. He'd never done that before – leave Jess to handle things alone. It was his own responsibility. He was head of the ranch and relay station; he never shirked his duties.

Strangely, he couldn't remember anything from the previous night except for the few moments of consciousness before he passed out again. Slim had no recollection of Jess finding him, nor of the ride home; only a few brief moments of knowing he was home and safe. His brow furrowed at the thought of Jess, realizing Jess was not asleep in the bed across from him. Where was Jess? he wondered. Then he remembered, Jess was at the far line cabin on the property. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts only brought on a deeper headache. If Jess was at the far line cabin, then how did he help Slim get home? Slim had no explanation and his foggy brain gave him no answers.

Groaning inwardly, Slim pulled on his boots and shuffled his way out of the bedroom and over to the table. Elbows on the table, his hands supported his aching head. He winced when Jonesy thumped the coffee cup down in front of him with an unusually loud harrumph and a verbal "Serves ya right!" Jonesy was no less quiet nor considerate of Slim's condition as he banged pots and pans in the kitchen before putting plates of pancakes and eggs on the table. Slim looked at the food with one bleary eye, not sure he could stomach anything. He had barely filled his plate when someone was pounding on the door.

Jonesy opened the door to find Lon, the deputy sheriff standing in the doorway. He looked anxious and fussed with his hat in his hands. He nodded at Jonesy's greeting and stepped into the house.

"Slim." Said Lon hesitating. "Slim, I... I got some bad news for ya." He said looking around anywhere except directly at Slim. "It's Andy . . ."

Slim was on his feet and standing in front of Lon, his hands wrapped in Lon's vest and almost lifting him off the floor. "What about Andy?" he asked in a threatening voice.

Lon swallowed hard before answering. "He's. He's escaped from the jail." Blurted Lon. No one heard Jonesy mutter under his breath "Oh, that's the trouble" while wondering how Jess knew about it so quickly. Slim let go of Lon's vest. Running one hand through his hair and absently sticking the other one in his back pocket, he turned and walked away, stopping at the mantel over the fireplace. "And you think he's here?" asked Slim without turning to look at Lon. It was more of a statement than a question. In his angst over Andy's lawlessness, he failed to notice the brick covering the hidey hole in the chimney was slightly askew.

Lon nodded. "But there's more, Slim." He said looking at both Jonesy and then at Slim's back. "Mort was hurt really bad during the escape. He's over to the Doc's right now."

Slim swung around, panic in his voice. "Shot? Andy shot Mort?"

Shaking his head no, Lon corrected himself. "No, he wasn't shot but he was pistol whipped pretty bad. No one knows who did it but there were tracks of three horses, one wearing a bar shoe. They'll be fairly easy to follow. I'm guessing those two friends of his were behind it all. Just don't know who hurt Mort."

Lon stood fussing with his hat for a few seconds more before looking at Slim and Jonesy. "I'm sorry, Slim, but I gotta search the house and barn for them. If you tell me they ain't here, I'll believe you, but I still gotta do the search. And Slim," Lon said after another hesitation. "Mort said to ask you to come in and see him."

Slim nodded his understanding. "No, Lon, they aren't here, but you do what you have to do." He sighed. "In the meantime, I'll go saddle my horse and I'll ride back to town with you."

Lon nodded with relief and began his search of the house. Finding no one, he went to the barn, again finding no one and nothing out of place. Together Lon and Slim rode back to Laramie.

When Lon and Slim entered the doctor's office, Mort was pale but awake. It was clear he was in a lot of pain. His head was swathed in bandages that matched the sheet covering him. He nodded in recognition of his visitors but made no move to sit up, an indication that he was seriously injured. Knowing that it took a lot to keep Mort quiet, Slim worried over the seriousness of Andy's escape and the resulting injury to his lawman friend.

"Slim", Mort's voice was a shadow of his normal tone. "I'm deputizing you to ride with Lon to bring back Andy and those two hoodlums he's been hanging out with. I'm afraid anyone else might be a little too exuberant in chasing the boys down. I don't want them hurt, just brought back." Mort closed his eyes and swallowed. It was obvious the effort to speak had taken a lot out of him. "I should really send Jess with Lon and have you stay behind to watch the town until I get back on my feet. But I'm hoping you can influence Andy enough to turn himself in." His eyes searched the room. "Where is Jess?" he asked.

Both Lon and Slim shook their shoulders.

"I haven't seen him in town." Stated Lon.

"He's out to the line cabin. It'll take a day to get a message out to him. With the boys having a good eight hours start on us, we don't have time to go get him." Replied Slim.

Mort looked confused and rubbed his hand across his forehead. "I must be imagining things." He said. "I swear he was here last night. I'm sure he's who found me and brought me to the Doc's."

Slim shook his head. "No, Jess has been out to the line cabin for a couple weeks. I doubt he's been in town. He hasn't stopped by the ranch or anything." But even as he said that, he was pretty sure it had been Jess who had gotten him home and helped him into bed after his night of drinking. Yet no one had seen Jess. It was puzzlement.

Leaving Mort to rest, Lon and Slim gathered supplies before heading out in search of Andy and his two friends. Little was said between the two men as they searched the trails for tracks and anything that would lead them to the escapees. Each was lost in their own thoughts, wondering whether the fugitives would surrender peacefully. Neither wanted to use lethal force on the young men. Admittedly, the two older boys Andy had hung out with were well on their way to being hardened criminals, but Andy hadn't crossed that line yet – at least Slim hoped he hadn't. He hoped that Andy was still redeemable even if it meant a stretch in jail or doing community service. They were already in trouble, with a debt to society that needed to be paid, but things could get worse – much, much worse.

Lon and Slim rode throughout most of the day before losing the trail when the trio crossed a stream. They split up and rode both up and down the water way, looking for where they had exited, yet found nothing. Disappointed, they accepted that they had lost the trail and began the journey back to Laramie.

Neither of them noticed the horse and rider that had shadowed their every movement from the time they had left Mort Cory at the doctor's office until they had turned around. Only then did the shadowy rider leave them, continuing on where they had turned back, secure in the knowledge that he could follow the trail the others had missed; knowing he'd be able to reach the boys and intercede before the Laramie law started another, longer and harder search for them.

Jess had watched from the hillside as Lon and Slim began their trek back to Laramie. He knew he could find the boys, not only because he was an experienced tracker, but he knew exactly where they were headed. He just hoped he could catch up to them before they reached their destination. Sometimes it paid to sit in the corner of the local bar and bring no attention to himself. Gamblers and drinkers soon forgot he was among them and carried on with their business. This is how it had been with the overconfident Abe. He'd let slip his plans for him and "his boys" to light out for Braxton. Jess knew the Braxton Sheriff's reputation a little too well. He'd never been in the town but knew it was no place for the inexperienced Andy Sherman. The town was rumored to be run by a crooked Sheriff and a haven for those shunning the law, as long as they greased the Sheriff's palms well enough. But if they failed to pay, or if they accidentally crossed some indistinguishable line, Braxton's Sheriff would arrest them. It was then their troubles would really begin. Rumors abounded regarding mistreatment of inmates. Jess carried no concern for the older Abe or Terry, figuring they were mature enough to take whatever the town dished out. But Andy was another matter. Knowing how easily a person could change from a respectable citizen to a wanted criminal, Jess felt it his duty to protect Slim's brother from experiencing the seedier reality of life on the outlaw trail.

CHAPTER FOUR – ON THE RUN

Andy sat across the campfire from his two friends – Abe and Terry, contemplating all the things they had done before and after leaving Laramie. It wasn't good. Abe and Terry had broken into houses along the way and stolen whatever food and money they could get their hands on. They showed no remorse and obviously enjoyed the thrill of stealing. Luckily, they hadn't really hurt anyone; hadn't killed anyone, but destruction marked their progress into the great unknown.

Abe was a full head taller than either Andy or Terry and was solidly built. He had brown eyes and told the others that he was part Indian, which is how he explained the dark brown hair that hung below his shoulders. The oldest of the three – almost 20 years old - he had instigated much of the shenanigans they had gotten into in town. Abe idolized Billy the Kid and the way he laughed at the lawmen trying to capture him. Abe was handy with a gun and boasted of having killed a couple men in gunfights. He had a hard edge to him, a knowledge beyond his years that both intrigued and frightened Andy. Unlike Jess, Abe boasted of his adventures and time spent evading lawmen. Andy thought he had found someone to share adventure with, someone who knew and lived the lawless life out on the owl hoot trail. He had found their antics in town fun and then exciting when they escalated their misadventures by breaking into various stores and taking what they wanted. Even as they continued their crime spree, a tiny voice inside him kept telling him he was doing wrong. When he expressed his concern, his delinquent friends assured him they were hurting no one and the merchants were rich and could well afford to lose the items they took. Eventually, Andy was able to ignore the voice, happy to be with friends who were doing something more exciting than working day in and day out on the ranch and relay station. Together, far from town, they had enjoyed the spoils of their thefts. Abe had always gone after the liquor and firearms. Together they had practiced shooting with the guns and ammunition they had stolen. Abe and Terry had always toted guns and were quick to use them. In spite of idolizing his gun toting companions, Andy didn't like the feel of a gun on his hip and rarely wore one, something which made him subject to ridicule from Abe and Terry.

Andy marveled at how Abe could hold his liquor. He'd seen Jess and Slim drink and occasionally even get drunk, but they didn't drink nearly as much as Abe could consume in one sitting. As for himself, he could barely stand the taste of beer, but a single whiskey gulp had him feeling warm and fuzzy and he was easily coaxed into imbibing freely.

Terry was tall and dark haired like Abe, but slender. He looked younger than his 18 years of age as he'd been sick a lot and just never seemed to ever gain weight or muscling like the other boys. Terry was the thinker and planner of the group, quickly becoming a master at lock picking. Where Abe just acted, Terry thought things through, figuring when to break in, what to take and how to escape unnoticed. It was because of Terry that the storekeepers had been confused upon finding things missing from their shelves, yet the doors remained locked. Conversations amongst the shopkeepers soon discovered they each had experienced unexplained diminishing stock.

Andy had chaffed under the strict upbringing of his brother. Stuck twelve miles from Laramie and far from any surrounding ranches, he had found the work and the relay station both tedious and boring. He wanted more, craved more than changing stagecoach harnesses or chasing cattle. He wanted to go where those stagecoaches went. Being stuck at the ranch, he was convinced that something new and wonderful was just around the corner – if he could only get away and strike out on his own. He'd idolized Jess Harper from the day he had ridden into the relay station. Jess was exciting with his checkered past and fast draw. Jess had been everywhere and seen everything. He was a real-life gunman, an admitted former outlaw, a tracker, and a loner. In spite of Jess refusing to tell anything about his life on the trail, Andy just knew there was adventure out there, just beyond his reach.

Andy had resented being sent off to St. Louis for a better education. He wanted to be out on the trail, not cooped up in a classroom. The city, while much busier, felt more confining than being stuck at the ranch. There were no open spaces, no fields – just city and it was stifling. He blamed Slim for having sent him away from his hero and making him go to school instead of taking off on the owl hoot trail. He would have talked Jess into taking him – he just knew it. But Slim had sent him away with Jonesy to keep an eye on him, ending any attempts to head out into the unknown. He didn't appreciate Slim's dedication to the ranch and how it required work from sunup to sundown with rarely any time for fun. Somewhere in his subconscious, Andy knew everything Slim did was so that he (Andy) could have a better life. With nearly twenty years between them in age, Slim had become more father than brother and Andy begrudged the firm hand with which he had been raised.

He and Jonesy had returned home for the summer. While spending some time in town, Andy met up with and fell in with both Abe and Terry. What he couldn't find with Jess, he was finding with his two new friends. It had been thrilling to do the very things he'd always been taught not to do. Abe and Terry showed no remorse about taking what they wanted, even enjoying their adventures. They had shared generously with Andy, slowly drawing him into their circle of deceit and thievery. He never even realized how they were grooming him to be just like them. Andy remembered the first time he had lied to Slim about his whereabouts during a break-in. It had been harder than he thought, but the next time it was a little easier and all too soon he could lie to his brother without even thinking about it. However, he still knew he was wrong and covered up his guilt at lying by becoming hostile and aggressive towards everyone. His first theft from the store had been an apple – one which he couldn't even eat because he felt so guilty. But like lying, enjoying his stolen items got easier the more he did it.

He hadn't shot old man Jonas, Abe had. But it was a worried Andy that Jonas had seen when he looked up. He'd started yelling and the three boys had beat a hasty retreat, but not before Mort arrived. Jonas had pointed his finger at Andy, even though Andy hadn't worn a gun. In the confusion, that little factoid got lost. Mort had questioned Andy repeatedly as to the whereabouts of both Abe and Terry. But Andy was loyal to his friends and answered Mort's questions with false bravado and disrespect. There was no way he'd give up his companions, he wasn't a snitch. It didn't occur to him that he'd been much worse than a snitch. He'd lied, stolen, then berated and verbally attacked Slim when he'd come to the jail. Andy had been sure he'd be released into Slim's care just like all the other times. But it wasn't so this time. His older brother had left him to sit in jail until the Judge came to town. Andy seethed over being left behind. Part of him knew it was out of Slim's hands, yet he resented it just the same.

Andy had finally run out of expletives with which to accost his brother and the sheriff and settled onto the bunk, feet drawn up and sulking over the miscarriage of justice he'd been subjected to. He pretended to be surprised when Abe and Terry had burst in upon the Sheriff. Holding Mort at gunpoint, the boys had directed him to set Andy free. It was while the Sheriff had his back to the boys, doing their bidding, that Abe had pistol whipped him. As Andy stepped over Mort's prone body, he had to fight the bile that swelled up into his throat. Blood stained the wooden floor beneath the lawman's head. Andy instinctively knelt by his side only to have Abe grab his arm and haul him towards the door. Both Abe and Terry's voices carried the urgency of their need to flee the town before anyone found out about the escape. Now, as Andy flicked torn pieces of grass into the fire, his mind went back to the lawman, worried about both the man and the consequences of their actions. Abe looked on as Andy stood up and brushed the seat of his pants.

"Just where do you think you're going?" Abe asked. Abe wasn't sure about Andy's devotion to the threesome and their criminal lifestyle. He'd balked at breaking into the houses and the way Abe had shoved people around. Abe had enjoyed the feeling of superiority it gave him to make people quake in terror before his gun, but Andy had wanted no part of it. Abe didn't care about that so much but knew he had to keep the Sherman boy from breaking away from the group. That required cultivating Andy's loyalty carefully, so that he remained focused on their outlaw lifestyle. He didn't think Andy would cut and run because he was wanted by the law too, but wanted to keep tabs on him just the same. It wouldn't do for Andy Sherman to get all noble and turn himself in for the crimes they had committed. Doing so could only lead to the downfall of Abe and Terry – and Abe wasn't going to let that happen. One way or another, he would make sure that Andy couldn't betray them. Braxton seemed like a good place to test that loyalty. He knew how the town worked. If Andy didn't stay "in line", a few dollars placed in the right hands, and a few words spoken in the right ears, could result in Andy's arrest by the Sheriff. Abe had no reservations about leaving Andy to the mercy of the Braxton lawman while he and Terry rode on in search of their next heist.

"I need to use the facilities." Andy lied. He realized he'd gotten good at lying. Abe nodded his agreement and watched as Andy left the small circle of light from the campfire. Andy walked to the horses on the picket line. He stayed there for a while, petting Cyclone and talking to him, worrying out loud about what lay in store for the three who were now fugitives. Part of him was exhilarated because he would get to experience the high adventure he'd imagined Jess had lived. But part of him regretted the things he had done.

Sighing deeply, Andy started to return to join the others, only to freeze in place, out of sight, as two men rode into the camp unannounced.

Wearing duster overcoats, they were dirty and rough looking men who stepped down from their horses without being asked. The men went to the stewpot without asking or having been offered a meal. Scooping out the contents onto plates, the two men hunkered down by the fire, oblivious to Abe and Terry. These men were much larger than themselves and even Abe hesitated to call them out on their behavior. The men gobbled down their food as if they hadn't eaten in days, swilling it down with the hot coffee the boys had made. Finished with their meal, they each tossed their plates down carelessly as they stood up. One used the back of his hand to wipe his mouth while the other picked at his teeth trying to dislodge something stuck there. Almost casually the men pulled the sides of their dusters behind them, holding the bulky fabric with one hand, revealing the guns at their sides and the stars they wore upon their vests. Lawmen!

Upon seeing the badges, both Abe and Terry's hands went for their guns, only to have the Deputies beat them to the draw. When the gun smoke cleared, the Deputies still stood untouched, their opponents lying in a twisted heap upon the ground.

One of the Deputies callously kicked Abe and Terry's bodies over onto their backs and began pawing through their clothing, pocketing any money or things of value he found there.

"There's another one." Stated the second man as he rummaged through the boy's saddlebags. "There's three saddles here.".

"Can't let 'em live." Said the first man as he stood and began a sweep of the area. "He might have seen us."

The second man nodded in agreement as he began looking around while answering. "Don't matter none. Won't live long enough to tell anyone."

"Come on out, young 'un." Called the one circling the outer edges of the campsite. "We'll get you one way or another, so why don't you make it easy on yourself?"

Andy's heart skipped a beat and his mouth went dry. He didn't recognize either man. They were not from Laramie. He was afraid Mort had put out flyers on the three of them, and these were men from another county. He shook his head, not being able to understand how quickly they had been found. They had been riding for several days, avoiding the main trails, crossing streams, and doubling back often. They definitely had left Mort's jurisdiction well behind them. But it didn't seem like it had been long enough for the law from anywhere else to be seeking them. They hadn't committed anything serious like murder or bank robbery. Sheriffs rarely sent out deputies in search of petty thieves like they were – or had Mr. Jonas died from his wounds? Or was it Mort? Had Mort died from being pistol whipped? Was that why they were being sought? How had they been found so quickly? Why did they kill the boys and were now stealing from them themselves?

Andy turned and ran, frantically plunging deeply into the underbrush. Without warning, he was jerked off his feet as an arm pinned him against a solid body and a gloved hand covered his mouth. Andy struggled and kicked wildly in terror, garnering a barely heard "ooph" from his assailant before he recognized his name hissed by a familiar voice, Jess' voice. Jess' back was against a wide tree which provided only slight protection for the both of them.

Jess shoved Andy into the thicket, while diving between trees himself. The movement brought gunfire in Jess' direction, but away from Andy.

"Who are you?" Shouted Jess. Anything else he might have said was drowned out in a hail of bullets. Jess closed his eyes and asked for forgiveness for what he was about to do. He could hear the men beginning to move towards him, using the trees for protection, their shots closer and more accurate with each moment. Jess dove once more, hitting the ground and rolling to the next tree for cover, bullets trailing his every move. Now sure of where the deputies were hiding, he fired off return shots, hearing the distinctive thud as one Deputy fell from his bullet. The second deputy fired more carefully, but also fell to Jess' accuracy with a gun.

After a few moments, Andy emerged from his hiding spot, surveying the four dead bodies before looking at Jess. Stunned, he watched as Jess mechanically dropped the empty cartridges and refilled his colt, no emotion visible upon his face. He then stalked over and began kicking dirt over the glowing fire. "Don't ya know better than run a fire out in the open? Dang thing can be seen for miles around. Brought those two right into your camp."

"Jess, you killed two Deputies." Andy whispered in horror.

"It was them or us." Was Jess' only response as he looked up and then around at their surroundings. "Get your things and saddle a horse. You were never here. You never saw any of this."

"Ain't we gonna bury them?" Questioned Andy.

"We ain't got time to be polite. If anyone else saw that fire or heard those gunshots, they'll be on us in no time – and you'd best not be forgetting that the law is looking for you too. You gotta know either Mort or Lon is on your trail. Not to mention Slim. Now get movin'."

Jess' body was rigid as he brushed past Andy and disappeared into the underbrush only to reappear a moment later leading Traveler

Andy was still rooted to the spot where Jess had left him.

"Get your horse, boy." Commanded Jess impatiently. Andy became terrified as he saw the coldness in Jess' eyes. He was incredulous as he continued to stare at Jess. "But it was self-defense. They murdered Abe and Terry and they would have murdered us too. I'll testify for you!"

Andy stood frozen in horror as Jess approached. Gripping Andy's shoulders, Jess gave him a good shaking before releasing him. Pointing at the dead bodies, Jess raged. "We gotta leave – NOW!"

"But Jess," pleaded a nearly crying Andy. "We can make them understand!"

Jess had been adjusting his cinch but now turned to look at Andy. "Make them understand what – how I killed two Deputies?" he shook his head. "They'll never believe you. Remember all the lies you told Slim and Mort? They'll say you are lying to cover for me. So now you're going to lie and say you were never here. You didn't see anything. You'd already split from Abe and Terry before this happened." He stared at Andy so hard Andy swallowed convulsively. Jess continued on. "Don't you get it? You can go back if you want. You're only wanted for a couple misdemeanors. You'll only have a little jail time or maybe some community service." He dropped the stirrup back down into place. "But there ain't no excuse for killing a lawman. They'll hang me." Jess stepped up onto Traveler. "Is that what you want, Andy – to see me hang?" He said coldly. Jess gathered up his reins and prepared to leave. "Stay or go. You're old enough to make your own decision, but I'd rather go back to the owl hoot trail than ever feel a rope around my neck again."

Andy was torn as he watched Jess turn and begin to move away. He was afraid for Jess; afraid that a rope was all that awaited his brother's best friend and partner. Jess was right, he could still go home and face whatever the law threw at him, but not Jess. Jess was heading out into the unknown – alone. Seeing Jess leave galvanized Andy into action.

"Jess, WAIT!" he called out, grabbing his saddle and running to the tied horses. "I'm coming with you!"

Jess turned and came back. "Boy, if you're going on the run, you better learn a few things." Andy turned to look at Jess quizzically.

"First of all," Jess started, pointing at the horses, "turn Cyclone loose. He'll find his way home."

Andy got defensive. "But he's my horse!"

"Ya – and that golden color will attract all kinds of attention. Palominos aren't all that common and people will notice him wherever you go. You don't want people remembering they ever saw you."

Andy still stood with his arm over Cyclone's back, holding the saddle blanket in place, unwilling to let go of his prized mount.

Jess was still pointing at Cyclone and the defiant Andy. "And that bar shoe he wears. Once someone is on your trail, that track will be easy to follow. No, Andy – saddle one of the bay horses and turn Cyclone and the other horse loose."

Reluctantly Andy did as he was told, finally saddling and riding one of the bay horses as he followed Jess' lead in leaving the deadly scene. He couldn't help but look back at the dead bodies of his one-time friends and watch as Cyclone faded into the distance. He didn't care for the knot in the pit of his stomach. He'd made his decision. He'd sided with Jess and was now really on the lam. He wondered whether Mort and Mr. Jonas were okay and if Slim knew he was gone. He wondered when or if anyone would find the death camp. Would they come after him and Jess? Would they ever be able to go home again? Andy was already beginning to regret the things he'd done in town and lying to Slim.

CHAPTER FIVE – THE OWL HOOT TRAIL

Riding with Jess now was nothing like the companionable rides they had shared going into Laramie or out on the trail. Jess rarely spoke unless communication was necessary. He was single minded, riding long and steady, only taking breaks to rest the horses. He was constantly on the alert, checking their back trail and focusing on his destination. They were headed higher into the hills where the horses wouldn't leave tracks and there was more cover from those who may be seeking them.

Nights were growing colder and Andy found little warmth using his saddle blanket and the single blanket he carried. He now regretted having left Abe's coat on the ground where he had dropped it. He'd been mad at Jess, watching incredulously as Jess had gone through Abe and Terry's saddlebags.

"What are you doing?" He'd questioned angrily.

"Lookin' for anything that might be useful – like food, or this coat." He'd said tossing Abe's coat to Andy. "Don't look like you were very prepared to be out here." Now shivering in the evening cold, Andy realized Abe and Terry hadn't planned their flight from justice as there was nothing useful other than the coat he had left behind.

The cold nights didn't seem to bother Jess, but then again, Jess carried a full bedroll with ground tarp and blanket. Since they only had some jerky, biscuits, and hardtack, Jess insisted on keeping a cold camp. He said that until it was safe to light a fire that couldn't be seen for miles away, there would be no campfire. Andy had always envisioned Jess' outlaw days as being high adventure. His empty stomach and uncomfortable nights coupled with the long days of riding had him seeing an entirely different side of life. One day faded into another, each day a repeat of the previous one. There was nothing exciting about shivering through the night, the hard ground, and his growling stomach. When he had whined to Jess, he had been met with a cold, hard stare, Jess' mouth drawn into a thin, tight and white-lipped frown. It was enough to make Andy afraid of the man he now rode with – or maybe afraid of where they were, how they were living and what their future held.

They had been riding for several days before Jess found a place to his liking. An outcropping of rocks and trees provided shelter from the elements and prying eyes. It was deep enough to bring the horses inside with them if they so chose. There was plenty of grass for the horses and water was easily accessible from a nearby stream. Jess had pushed them hard. It was an exhausted Andy who collapsed onto the ground, thankful for the break, only to be rousted by Jess and sent out to gather firewood.

Andy set to work collecting kindling and branches for a fire while Jess saw to the horses. Andy thought he had collected a fair amount of wood, but Jess sent him back out for more, stockpiling the extra under the overhanging rocks. Jess sent him back out for more wood so many times that Andy was beginning to resent it and made his displeasure known. Whenever Andy was about to voice his displeasure, it seemed Jess anticipated him, giving him another cold, hard look which let him know there was no room for complaining about their circumstances. Andy didn't know which was worse – Jess chastising him or ignoring him. Jess was non-communicative as he took string and hooks from his saddlebags, silently heading down to the stream in hopes of snagging some fish for supper. He left Andy with instructions to start the fire and set up camp.

Andy looked around him in consternation, scratching the back of his head. He resented the high handedness with which Jess ordered him around. "Do this. Do that." he grumbled as he contemplated their circumstances. The last time he'd made a fire from scratch had been years ago. He wasn't sure he still remembered how to even begin. The ground was too hard to dig a pit into, so he created a circle with rocks he found easily. Dry grass formed the base of his would-be fire, with small twigs handy to help feed it – if he ever got it started. He searched his pockets and his and Jess' saddle bags for matches. Finding none, he searched for a flint, anything he could strike a spark with – again nothing was found. None of the rocks in the area created a spark of any kind when he struck them with his knife. He was grateful he at least had a pocketknife, even though he had stolen it from one of the Laramie merchants, but it was useless by itself. Finally, he selected a stick and used his knife to sharpen the end. Relying on his memory for the technique, Andy rubbed the stick back and forth between his hands, hoping to create enough friction to ignite the dry grass. He was still trying when Jess returned with one medium sized fish. Jess watched him for a few moments before reaching in his pocket and drawing out a flint which he dropped into Andy's appreciative hands. In only a few moments, Andy had the beginnings of a comfortable campfire going.

"Don't never go anywhere without fire makings" Jess admonished Andy when handed back the flint. As he began to prep the fish for cooking, Jess looked over at Andy. "Just what were you three planning on doing?" he asked. "You obviously weren't prepared to be on the trail for any length of time."

Andy shrugged his shoulders, somewhat afraid to face Jess and the truth so he began with another lie. "I didn't know they were going to break me out of jail." He began, but he knew the boys were coming for him. Abe had slipped a note through his jail cell window. Andy had hidden it from Mort and just sat back and waited for his friends to free him. "Terry was the planner. We depended upon him to settle the details of everything. We were supposed to break into one of the stores and take what we needed." He paused for a moment. "But someone foiled that plan, started shooting so we had to hightail it out of there." He looked at Jess, but Jess was unreadable. "Abe and Terry said we weren't hurtin' nothin' by what we took. We didn't hurt no one," he hung his head. "At least not until old man Jonas got himself shot. Besides, them merchants could easily afford what we stole, it wasn't any big deal."

Jess tossed a twig he'd been worrying into the fire. "So, you're saying that it's okay if someone comes in and takes one of Slim's calves?" He asked, his voice even, although if Andy could have seen his eyes, he would have seen the darkness behind them.

"Heck no!" exclaimed Andy. "That's stealing!"

"What's the difference between that and what you did?"

"Why that's," he stammered. "Why, that's totally different. Those merchants make a lot of money on what they sell. Slim don't. He barely gets by with what we've got. We can't afford to lose even one calf!"

"What makes you think the merchants don't need everything they earn?" asked Jess calmly. "And what about Mort?"

"What about Mort?" responded Andy indifferently. "He knew what he was getting into when he took the Sheriff's job. He shouldn't have arrested me and held me for trial. He should have let Slim bail me out like all the other times."

"So, it was okay to hurt Mort because he was the Sheriff?" questioned Jess again.

Andy shrugged defensively. "I didn't hurt him none. It was Abe that clubbed him. I just wanted out of jail. It wasn't right for me to be sitting there for a week or more until some high and mighty judge who don't know nothing about me decided whether I could get bail or not."

"Hmmm," said Jess thoughtfully. "So, the fact that you'd been in trouble multiple times and were involved in a robbery and shooting – even if you didn't do the shooting – wasn't serious enough to face charges?" he paused for a moment. "What did you expect – to be let off scott free? What you boys did wasn't just kid's play, Andy. Merchants lost money; people got hurt. You're old enough to know right from wrong and when you done wrong, you gotta pay for it one way or another."

Jess said no more as he set the fish over the fire to cook. Soon they were enjoying the first real food they'd had in days. The fish had barely been enough for one person, let alone two, yet it temporarily eased the famished stomachs of the two refugees.

Settling down onto his blankets, Andy realized Jess had not set out his blankets. Instead, Jess was checking his rifle before heading towards the overhang's opening.

"When do we hit the owl hoot trail?" Andy asked naively.

Jess gave Andy a hard look, his voice harsh when he replied. "This is it. You're lookin' at it."

"But it ain't nothin'." whined Andy. "I thought there'd be more. Where's everyone else?"

Jess stalked back underneath the overhang. The flickering fire illuminated the hard lines in his face, the darkness of his eyes as he spoke in a deep, lecturing tone. "There ain't no one else." He started, pointing a finger at Andy. "When you're out here it's every man for himself. You don't trust nothing and no one unless you're traveling with them – and sometimes not even then. You don't share anything ya got 'cept maybe coffee 'cause they'll be fixin' to take it from ya at the first chance. Everyone out here is up to no good or running from somethin'." he paused to take a breath. "You don't tell no one where you're really from or where you're really goin'." He looked around their small cave. "Out here it's the survival of the fittest – and you'd best be the fittest or you won't last long." He turned and went to the edge of the cave.

Undeterred, Andy began again. "But, can't we go into town and do something? Maybe get a real meal or buy supplies for the trail?" He was taken aback when Jess swung back towards him and angrily answered once more.

"And what do you propose to pay for it with? Or do you plan on stealing that too?" Jess' words stung as he was again reminded that they were on the run. "What kind of fool rides into town knowing his face might be looking at him from a WANTED poster hung on the Sheriff's wall for everyone to see? No, Andy, neither one of us can go into town or any legitimate business unless we want to run the risk of being caught. That's why those hole-in-the-wall establishments exist – the ones where you have to be constantly alert because the next guy will slit your throat for whatever he thinks you got. You still believe that there's good in everyone. You wouldn't last five minutes in one of them places. Now get some sleep. I'll take the first watch. I'll wake you in 4 hours." Then Jess walked out into the dark night, signaling he wanted no further talk on the subject.

It seemed like Andy had barely closed his eyes before Jess was waking him. Rubbing his eyes, he watched Jess settle down into his own blankets.

"But the owl hoot trail always sounded so exciting." Complained Andy, trying to restart the conversation, sounding more like his 14-year-old self instead of the 16-year-old he was.

He continued ignoring Jess' obvious signal to drop the subject until Jess rolled partially back over. Making eye contact with the youth, his voice was cold as he began. "I never told you nothin' about being on the trail other than I'd been on it a time or two. There ain't nothing thrilling about cold nights, empty stomachs, avoiding the law and bounty hunters. Anything exciting was in your imagination and I sure as blazes never put that image in your mind. And there sure ain't nothing fun nor exciting about these scars I carry. You seen 'em and ya know they ain't pretty. It was those cheap dime novels that got you all fired up. Now go stand your watch and don't fall asleep," commanded Jess as he hunkered back down into his blankets.

Andy stared at Jess' back for a while before finally grudgingly taking his post beyond the comforting warmth of the fire.

The next morning dawned with a steady downpour. Andy suddenly understood Jess' insistence upon what seemed an excessive amount of wood. Nestled beneath the outcropping, they were warm and dry with plenty of fuel to stay that way; including carrying them over until the now soaked trees would dry out to provide more firewood. Even with the downpour, Jess donned his rain poncho and scouted the area while taking care of the horses.

Food was still a problem. Their food had only lasted the first couple of days out on the trail and was now just a fond memory. Andy decided he'd be happy if he never saw a piece of jerky or hard tack again, although he didn't decline it when offered. At least it was something to put in his empty stomach. Jess refused to use a gun for hunting in case the rifle report brought someone into their camp. Although, it didn't matter because none of the woodland creatures would be stirring during the rain. It was doubtful whether the fish would even be biting. They were in for a long day of waiting – waiting for the rain to stop, waiting for the wood to dry so they could collect more, and waiting until some rabbits or grouse began to move so they could set a trap and hopefully catch something of more substance to eat.

The rain continued on into the next day and the day after. Andy didn't know what to do with himself, so he paced the confines of their shelter, trying to ignore his growling belly. Every few hours, Jess donned his rain poncho and scouted the area, admonishing Andy to stay alert during his absence. Eventually Jess brought the horses back with him into the shelter. Steam rose from their bodies as they began to dry in the warmth of the cave. Although ever alert, Jess seemed content to sit with his knees drawn up, head on folded arms on his knees and doze. Any conversation Andy might try to have was stymied by Jess' noncommittal answers, if he even bothered to answer.

Andy was seeing a different side of Jess than he had ever seen before. The "ranch" Jess had been jovial and a prankster. Together they had played jokes on Jonesy and Slim and seemed able to talk about just about anything. This "outlaw" Jess was different and Andy realized he was seeing what Jess' life had been like before coming to the ranch. This Jess was cold, remote and had no penchant for any silliness. Whether riding the trail, seeking shelter, or even holed up like they were, he was all business. He was constantly scouting the area around their camp, checking and rechecking in case they were being followed, hiding from anyone who might pass close by. He constantly schooled Andy on how to live on the run. He was restless in his sleep, alert and gun drawn at any unusual sound during the day or night. Andy knew some of Jess' behavior was because Jess hadn't bargained on taking him on the owl hoot trail. Jess had reverted back to his loner self yet took his protection of Andy seriously. It was one of the few comforts he held – Jess would never desert him.

While Jess dozed, Andy was left to his own resources. Finally settling down by the fire, he began to think about everything that had led up to his being a refugee hiding out under the overhang of some rocks. He thought back to how he had accused Slim of being too strict in his upbringing. Like Jess had said, he wanted adventure, lured by the stories he'd read in the novels. He'd idolized Jess since the day he had arrived at the ranch. Looking back, he realized how he had hero worshipped Jess, imagining all of the things Jess had done prior to settling down with them. Now, he understood why Jess had never actually revealed any details of his past – not even to Slim. Other than knowing without a doubt that Jess would always be his friend and protect him, Andy discovered that he really knew nothing of Jess' past life.

It was because he hadn't wanted to be stuck on the ranch that he had begun acting out, only to realize that where he was at the moment was exactly what Slim had been protecting him from. It humbled Andy to finally understand that Slim only wanted the best for him. When their father died, Slim was away fighting in the war. As the only son left at home, even at his tender age he felt the weight of responsibility for taking care of the family, a burden he was simply too young to even try to take on. He'd resented Slim then, not understanding why his brother didn't come home. He was only aware there was something they called a war had killed their father and kept his brother away. It hadn't helped things when Slim returned and their mother had passed away soon after. The farm had been mired in debt. The Sherman boys were pitied due to the loss of their parents yet vilified for having their father labeled a traitor. Feelings had run high yet Slim had been steadfast in defending their father and taking over running the ranch. Andy finally grasped what a toll it had taken on Slim to raise him and send him back east to school. Slim had given up his own hopes and dreams in order to make the ranch a profitable enterprise while raising his brother. Slim had understood early on that ranching was his life and he wanted no other. But he had also understood that Andy wanted more and was destined to do something other than ranching and had done everything in his power to prepare Andy for his future.

Andy wiped a tear from his eye, hoping Jess hadn't seen. He'd been an unappreciative brat who had hurt his brother in more ways than one. He'd skipped part of the schooling Slim held so precious. He'd gone against everything he'd been raised on – never stealing, never lying, swearing and calling his brother names. He'd also railed against the family's best friend, Sheriff Mort Cory. Now Andy held regret for his actions. He was ashamed, deeply ashamed of everything he had done.

"Jess." Andy began, only to get a noncommittal "hmm?" from Jess who didn't even look up.

"I need to go back. I have to tell Slim I'm sorry for everything, that I was wrong in doing what I did. I'll turn myself in and take whatever punishment the court hands out." The last few words came out in a rush but once said, Andy felt a great weight lift off his shoulders. He knew he had made the right decision.

Jess raised his head and rested his chin on his folded arms. He studied Andy for a few minutes before answering. "That's good. You'll be safer than traveling with me. We'll start out in the morning. I'll make sure you safely get back to Laramie."

"But, what about Braxton? It's closer than Laramie – only a few miles away. That's where Abe . . .."

Andy never got to finish his sentence and certainly didn't see Jess move before finding himself shoved against the stone walls of their enclosure, an angry Jess just inches from his face. "You don't never want to go to Braxton." Jess growled

"But." Andy tried to respond

"Ain't no 'buts' about it. In case you didn't notice, them lawmen were from Braxton. I'm taking ya to Laramie. You'll be safer waiting for trial in Mort's jail."

"But I didn't have nothin' to do with them!" Andy complained.

"You think that's going to matter? If the Sheriff don't know about his Deputies already, he'll find out soon enough. When he does, he's going to be looking for someone to blame and you'll be easy pickings if you're already in his jail. No, Andy, you're going back to Laramie."

Jess' words chilled Andy to the bone. He had heard of lawmen like the Braxton Sheriff, but never seen it firsthand. It was clear that Jess had experienced such injustice and was warning him away from the same experience. Andy was relieved when he thought Jess said he would ride into town with him. "You, you'll be coming with me then?" he asked.

Jess shook his head no. "I'll ride part way with you, make sure you get where you're going but I'm not turning myself in." Jess let go of Andy, walked away and stretched. He walked to the entrance of their shelter and back. Seeing Andy's disappointed look, he continued. "You're plenty old enough to understand. You made your choice and I have to make mine. I can't go back Andy. I told you before, I won't hang for doing something I had to do. I don't know why those Deputies were so bent on killing us. Heck, I don't even know why they killed them boys like they done. But I'm not about to let the law get its hands on me. They'll never believe anything I say. I've had too many wanted posters out on me; spent time in jail. And, even if I go to trial, I'll be found guilty and sentenced to hang. I'm dead either way." He shook his head at Andy's attempted rebuttal. "No, Andy, you can't testify. They'll turn on you just as sure as I'm standing here. We have to do what is right for each of us." Jess settled down into his blankets, leaving Andy to take first watch for the night. Disappointed, Andy wordlessly took his post, knowing it would only be a few hours before he could sleep and that when he woke up, they would begin their journey back to Laramie.

The sun was already high in the sky when Andy awoke to the smell of food. Looking over, he saw Jess hunkered down by the fire, two large trout skewered and almost done cooking. Smiling, Jess handed one of the fish to Andy. "Figured I'd get us something a little more substantial than jerky to start out the day. I was in luck," he said settling back to enjoy his own fish. "Fish were biting."

"Why'd you let me sleep in?" questioned Andy.

"We had long, hard days getting here with little to eat. You haven't been sleeping well out here on the trail. You needed the extra rest. The next few days and maybe even months are going to be rough on you. I let you sleep while you could. We've got a long trip. Best be starting out with a good meal. Don't know when we'll find us some game again."

"We?" Andy returned hopefully, only to get a stern look from Jess.

"I done told you, I ain't turning myself in. I'll ride with you as far as I can."

"Jess, I . . ." Andy hesitated. "I understand why you can't go back. But I don't want to be alone through this, I'm not strong enough to do it on my own."

"You're stronger than you think and you won't be alone, Andy," returned Jess. "Slim will be right by your side like he's always been. Once things get straightened out, he'll forget you ever done wrong. That's just the way he is. Oh, he'll be madder than a wet hornet for a time, but he'll never abandon you." Jess looked directly at Andy. "You're his brother, Andy. He loves you. Don't you ever forget that."

"Will I ever see you again?" Andy was losing his best friend along with the battle not to get emotional.

"I can't answer that, Andy" replied Jess. "I can only do what I can do. I don't know what the future holds."

"But you will," said Andy hopefully. "You will come home if it is ever possible?'

Jess didn't answer Andy's question because he knew he'd never be able to call the ranch his home again. He was once more an outlaw and outlaws didn't have homes to go to. Tossing the left-over bones into the fire, Jess stood and began packing the few belongings he carried. Seeing Jess wasn't going to answer, Andy followed suit and packed his own belongings. It wasn't long before they were on the trail and headed home to Laramie.

Neither talked much as they rode along. Pretty much everything had already been said between them and each rode, thinking their own thoughts. The three days of rain had turned the mountain path into a muddy quagmire. It played a heavy toll on the horses and they were forced to rest often. It was mid-afternoon when Jess called another halt to rest the horses. They had made steady progress and were not in any hurry. Even though they had days yet to ride, Andy could feel his stomach start to churn as anxiety built over what would happen after he turned himself in. Jess was determining how far he could ride before he'd have to leave Andy's side. Even on the trail back, he had to keep watch for any lawmen who might be out looking for Andy or for whomever killed the Deputies. When they got closer to Laramie, he'd continue to watch Andy from a distance but he couldn't ride into town. Unfortunately, this was something Andy was going to have to do alone. Watching from a distance was the best he could do to take care of Andy's welfare without being caught himself.

Surveying the steep trail, they were about to embark upon, Jess cautioned Andy to hold his horse back to allow each of them plenty of room on the slippery slope. Jess wanted to try the trail before allowing Andy to proceed. Andy watched as Traveler slipped and slid, guided by Jess' quiet hands and legs. He was about halfway down before indicating for Andy to begin his decent. However, Andy's horse was not quiet like Traveler. Andy had had to hold hm back, fighting the horse's attempts to rush down the muddy slope to reach Traveler. Although an expert rider, Andy had trouble controlling its random plunges. Fearing a wreck, Jess had signaled for Andy to dismount and lead his horse down the slope. Andy's horse fought the tight reins and reared. There was a loud snap as Andy's rein broke, throwing him off balance. At the same time, his saddle slid towards the horse's haunches. Unable to rebalance himself, Andy fell to the ground. Frightened by the saddle sliding, and the sudden loss of contact with its rider, the horse plunged forward, kicking and bucking as the back cinch encircled its flanks and the saddle rolled and twisted around its belly. Jess had his hands full staying aboard the normally unflappable Traveler. He watched helplessly as Andy's horse continued to buck his way down the slope, falling and rolling in his fear driven plunge for freedom. Eventually the both cinches gave way, freeing the horse from the frightening contraption upon his back. Terrified, the horse fled the area in a full out gallop and was out of sight within moments. Jess turned his attention back to Andy. Jess' heart stopped when he saw Andy laying, unmoving, upon the trail. He was beside Andy in a heartbeat. Blood flowed from a gash on the side of Andy's head. Jess immediately wrapped his spare bandana around the wound trying to staunch the flow. Thankfully it slowed, but Andy did not regain consciousness and was very pale. Jess knew there was no sense in trying to catch Andy's horse. It was too far away by now and Andy was too injured for him to take the time to search. Laramie was still days away. There was only one solution – Jess would have to back track and take Andy to the doctor in Braxton.

CHAPTER SIX - BRAXTON

Holding Andy before him in the saddle, it had taken Jess until well after dark to reach Braxton. The doctor fussed at him for kicking open the office door until he got one look at him holding Andy in his arms. He immediately showed Jess to the examination room, asking questions and beginning his exam before Andy was even on the table. Jess stood back and fretted. Andy was his responsibility. He'd let Andy take to the owl hoot trail with him and it was his fault Andy had gotten hurt. He knew he was taking a chance bringing Andy to the doctor. But he would do anything to keep Slim's brother safe. He sincerely hoped there were no WANTED flyers out on him and news of the dead Deputies hadn't reached any law enforcement yet. That would be all the needed, he thought ruefully, to find his face on a flier outside the Sheriff's office.

After a thorough examination, the Doctor looked at Jess. Before him, he saw a tired and haunted man; possibly someone on the run, but someone who cared more for the boy he'd brought in than his own welfare.

"He's going to be alright." Said the doctor, not sure whether the man before him was even listening, but saw the anxiousness slowly drain away, yet he never left the boy's side.

"Your brother?" asked the doc

"Something like that," answered Jess. It wasn't really a lie but was easier than explaining the real relationship.

Standing back, hand on chin, the doctor studied Jess once more before holding out his hand and introducing himself. "I'm Doc Collier" he said, hoping the young man would respond in kind. Still distracted by Andy's quietness, Jess didn't turn to the doctor, merely shaking his hand and muttering "Harper, Jess Harper. This here is Andy."

"Mr. Harper," began the doctor. "May I make a suggestion?"

Jess turned to look at him, his attention now fully on the doctor. He didn't answer, waiting for him to say whatever he was about to say. The doctor cleared his throat before beginning.

Doc Collier saw the change in Jess' eyes and demeanor. He cleared his throat again. "Perhaps I can suggest you move your horse to the barn behind the building here. There's only my buggy horse in there and no one goes there but me."

Jess looked at Doc Collier sideways, unsure of why the man was helping him. It took a few moments before Jess nodded his agreement, yet reluctant to take his eyes off Andy.

"He'll be fine right here. Just let yourself in the back door when you've stabled your horse."

Jess was torn. He wasn't sure he could trust the doctor not to run for the Sheriff at the first opportunity. But, knowing a strange horse tied out behind the doctor's office might arouse suspicion, he decided the barn was a better option. It only took a couple minutes to stable and feed Traveler before returning to Andy's bedside. He panicked when the doctor was nowhere around and was about to beat a hasty retreat when the doctor returned carrying a tray of sandwiches and hot coffee. He set it down and indicated for Jess to help himself. Jess didn't need to be asked twice.

Other than asking the standard questions as to how Andy had gotten hurt and how long it had been, Doc Collier made no attempt at conversation. It seemed he had no desire to know who Jess was or why he had arrived on his doorstep with the injured Andy in the middle of the night.

After examining Andy once more, Doc Collier excused himself, going to his own room to sleep. Although the doctor had provided sleeping accommodations for Jess, when he came to check on Andy in the morning, he found Jess sound asleep on the chair by Andy's bedside.

CHAPTER SEVEN – TRAILING THE ESCAPEES

Slim Sherman and Mort Cory stopped at the edge of what was once a campsite. Mort felt sadness at finding Abe and Terry dead, apparently taken by surprise as neither had drawn their guns. The camp's disarray and the two dead Deputies were a puzzle. Obviously there had been another person at the camp – someone who had gunned them down. But had the unidentified person shot all four of the victims or only the Deputies? It didn't make sense that the Deputies had killed Abe and Terry in cold blood, so that meant the unknown person had killed all four. Mort shook his head, not understanding how this could have happened. He hadn't put flyers out on Abe, Terry and Andy, so there was no reason for there to have been any altercation between the Deputies and the two young men. And, where was Andy? It was beyond Mort's comprehension that Andy could have carried out this massacre, yet he was the only one unaccounted for. But he also knew that Andy didn't carry a gun. Sure, he was well schooled in handling a firearm – both handgun and rifle, but even though Abe and Terry had been quite brazen with their gun antics, Andy had never participated in any gunplay. Even Mr. Jonas, once he had calmed down, verified that it was Abe who had shot him, not Andy. Andy had stopped to assist him until one of the other boys physically pulled him away and they ran. No, Andy wasn't the perpetrator of this crime scene.

As Mort continued to walk the camping area, Slim retrieved the fold-up shovel from Mort's pack and began the arduous task of digging graves for the four men. He looked up and then joined Mort when Mort signaled to him. Mort was kneeling beside a pile of spent cartridges. Someone had emptied and then refilled their gun in this spot. Slim hoped Mort hadn't noticed the boot print alongside the shell casings. There was a distinct void where there was a hole in the sole of the boot – Jess' boot was worn like that. He'd teased Jess that he needed a new pair of boots but Jess had insisted that they had just now gotten broken in good.

Deliberately stepping on the boot print, Slim set off to examine the rest of the camp area. Together they began surveying the exterior of the camp, finding various places where it appeared some sort of struggle had gone on. Mort's "Oh no." caught Slim's attention. Turning, he saw Mort stand up, a bandanna held in his hands. A weathered, blue bandanna.

"Jess?" they said in unison.

Slim reached out a hand to touch the blue cloth. "It looks like Jess'" he said. He shook his head. "No, I won't believe it. Jess had no reason to kill Abe and Terry, let alone kill two Deputies. Wound them, most likely, if necessary, but never kill them." Slim continued to finger the bandanna. "I'd bet my last dollar, if it was Jess, whatever he did, he did to protect Andy."

"Except for the bandanna, which may or may not be Jess', there's no sign Jess or Andy were ever here. Do you think he thought better of keeping these two hooligans' company and left before this happened? And why do you think Jess was involved?"

Slim straightened up from studying ground around them. "The ground's been brushed. Someone wanted to make sure there weren't any prints."

"Jess" murmured Mort as he looked at Slim strangely and Slim knew it was time for a small confession. Taking a deep breath, he began. "The night Andy broke out of jail was the same night I got drunk. I didn't know it at the time, but it was Jess that got me home. Apparently, he'd been making regular evening trips into town to keep an eye on Andy. He'd still been in town when the jail break happened, so he knew about it before anyone else."

"And that's how I got to the doctor's office so quickly," added Mort with sudden clarification.

Slim took another deep breath and looked at Mort. "It wasn't until after Lon and my failed search that Jonesy told me everything. When Jess took me home, he took his gun, Mort. His gunfighting gun. He was going after Andy and was expecting trouble – big trouble." There was heavy silence between the two men as each contemplated the potential meaning behind Jess' actions.

Before burying the two Deputies, Mort removed their badges. They were imprinted Braxton County Deputy. They would ride on into Braxton and deliver the bad news to the Sheriff in person. It would mean several days of riding, but Mort figured it was the least he could do.

There was an awkward silence between the men in the Braxton County Sheriff's Office. Mort and Slim were sitting across from Sheriff Lenaway's desk. Lenaway was short compared to Slim – more than a head shorter than the rancher. He had a round face, thinning gray hair, and thick flabby arms which complemented his barrel of a stomach paunch.

"They were good men." Said the Sheriff sadly as his pudgy hands fingered the returned badges. Looking up at Mort and Slim, he continued on. "I thank you for bringing me the news. They were several days overdue and I had begun to worry. They were chasing two men who held up the stage a few days ago. It wasn't like them to have not reported back in." He shook his head in disbelief. "So, you think who ever killed them also killed the other two young men you came across?"

"It looks that way, but we can't be sure. There's a lot about the scene I can't explain," replied Mort. He hadn't told the Braxton Sheriff that he had been on the trail of his jail escapees, only that they had come upon the scene while looking for Slim's brother. It was only a small lie of omission. He felt it was better to keep Andy out of any implications or repercussions regarding the shooting until they knew more about the situation. Mort knew if the Braxton Sheriff thought Andy was involved and happened to find Andy before Mort and Slim, he might harm Andy in retaliation. Mort didn't know the Braxton Sheriff personally; had only heard he was a harsh man when it came to criminals. It seemed his inmates were prone to unexplained bruises and once in a while the occasional broken bone. Andy may have done wrong and was wanted by Mort, but he certainly didn't deserve to be subjected to Lenaway's alleged treatment if arrested.

"So, you say you're looking for your brother?" asked the Braxton Sheriff. "What makes you think he is here?"

Mort answered before Slim had a chance to say anything. "We didn't say we were looking for him here. We came here to deliver the news about your Deputies. While we're here, I hope you don't mind us asking around to see if anyone has seen the boy." Mort didn't like the way the Sheriff was looking at them.

"No, no, I don't mind," replied the Sheriff. "In fact, if I were you, I'd start by checking with Doc Collier. If anyone's been sick or injured, he'll have treated them. He sees everyone in the area so if there's anyone new, he'll know. His office is at the end of town." He stood up and picked up his hat. "Come on, I'll introduce you."

CHAPTER EIGHT – BETRAYED

Jess awoke with a start upon hearing his name spoken urgently. Doc Collier was holding Jess' hat and coat. "You gotta get out of here." Spoke the doctor, indicating for Jess to take his things and head for the back door. Collier lifted the window curtain which overlooked Main Street and let it fall back, hoping no one had seen him. His eyes were wide and he seemed on the verge of panic. "Another lawman and his Deputy rode into town this morning. They're headed this way with Sheriff Lenaway. If you're wanted, you don't want them finding you here."

Jess hesitated, looking at Andy who had not regained consciousness.

"Don't worry about him. I'll take care of him." He assured Jess.

Jess headed out the door, grateful for the warning. He stopped, his hand on the doorknob. "Send a telegram to Slim Sherman in Laramie. Tell him Andy is here," he said before closing the door and heading for the barn. Doc Collier returned to Andy's bedside, waiting for the Sheriff's knock on his door. He didn't like the Sheriff much. He'd been a young doctor when Lenaway had become Sheriff. At first, he had run a clean town, but as the years passed, rumors began to surface regarding the treatment of his prisoners. He'd been called to the jail a few too many times to treat prisoners who supposedly injured themselves while in custody. Lately the Sheriff had been exerting undue pressure on the merchants, demanding insurance money so their businesses could remain in operation. Whether in fear of, or respect for Doc Collier's experience and his necessity to the town, Doc's medical clinic was one of the few that Lenaway exempted from his protection money.

Doc Collier didn't know why he'd warned Jess about the new Sheriff and Deputy he'd seen. He could have stayed silent and let them take him by surprise. But he had a feeling there was something else going on about the young man who had brought Andy to him, who had stayed by the boy's bedside for two days and nights watching over him in case the youth should awaken. His concern was genuine; even his parting words had been for taking care of the boy. He wondered who Slim Sherman was and what he had to do with the boy he thought was Andy Harper. He didn't have much time to wonder as there was a loud banging on his door.

Doc Collier opened the door but blocked the entrance with his body. "What do you think you're doing making so much noise?" commanded the doctor. "For all you know I've got a sick patient in here who shouldn't be disturbed, and your pounding on my door would certainly disturb them." He crossed his arms, a deep frown upon his face which showed his displeasure at being disturbed.

"Well, do ya?" asked the Sheriff.

"Do I what?" countered the doctor.

"You got a patient I shouldn't be disturbing?" returned an aggravated Sheriff. He knew Collier held no fondness for him and was making things difficult on purpose. He also suspected that the doctor was stalling him for some reason and he didn't like that one bit.

"Yes. I've got a sick boy that shouldn't be disturbed." Collier saw the blond Deputy straighten up, suddenly taking an interest in the discussion.

It was Mort that spoke next. "I'm Mort Cory, Sheriff of Laramie," he introduced himself. "We're looking for a missing boy about 16 years of age, tall and slender, with dark hair. Goes by the name of Andy Sherman."

Doc Collier shook his head. "No. No Andy Sherman," he said. "I've got an Andy in here alright, but that's not his last name, and you know I can't tell you any more information without his kin's approval."

The doctor had barely finished before Slim shoved his way past him. He stood in the main office for a moment, unsure which way to turn. He heard a moan and burst into the adjoining room.

"Andy!" Slim nearly shouted. He ran back to the main room. Trying to control his voice he called to Mort. "Mort! It's Andy. We've found him." He turned and returned to Andy's bedside.

The doctor followed, hot on his heels. "Just one moment, whomever you are. You don't belong in . . ." the doctor stopped talking. The blond Deputy was on sitting on the side of the bed. He held one of the boy's hands in his, his other hand gently touching the side of the boy's face.

"Andy," he said softly. "Andy, it's me, Slim. I'm here, Andy. I'm here."

"He's in a coma," said the doctor flatly. "He needs to be left alone. I don't want any strangers in here."

"That's Slim's brother." Was all that Mort said.

A thoroughly perplexed Doc Collier turned to face Mort. "I don't understand," he began. "I thought the man who brought him in was his brother. He wouldn't leave the boy's side – not even to sleep." He turned to face Slim. "Wait a minute – You called him Andy Sherman and the Sheriff just called you Slim – Slim Sherman?"

Slim turned to look at the doctor. "Yes. I'm Slim Sherman. Andy's my brother."

"The man." Began Collier. "Just before he left, the man said to send a telegram to Slim Sherman in Laramie and tell him Andy was here."

Now Collier had all three of their interest.

"Just who was this man, what did he look like?" questioned Lenaway.

Collier shrugged. "Just a man. Dark hair, about six foot tall. I don't think he told me his name." He lied, knowing full well he knew Jess' name.

Both Mort and Slim looked at each other but said nothing.

"What do you mean he didn't give you his name?" chimed in Lenaway.

Doc Collier shrugged. "He didn't introduce himself. I was more concerned over taking care of the lad. It didn't seem important at the time."

"Well, where is he now?" continued on the Braxton Sheriff.

"I've no idea." Answered Collier, for once telling the truth.

Suddenly Andy became restless, his arms and legs moving like he was trying to escape someone or something. His head rolled back and forth on the pillow. "Why'd you have to do that? Why Jess, why?"

Collier moved to examine Andy. Looking up he motioned to the three men to leave the room. "You need to leave. He's starting to come out of the coma. I wouldn't take anything he says too seriously. With this type of head injury, the thought process gets scrambled." He ushered them out of Andy's room, closed the door and returned to his patient.

Outside, in the waiting room, Lenaway began to question Mort and Slim. He wanted to know what Andy had been mumbling about. Who was Jess and what shouldn't he have done? But while both Mort and Slim gave slightly evasive answers, the Braxton Sheriff concluded that the Laramie Sheriff and Deputy were protecting the man responsible for the death of his own two Deputies. Angered, he returned to his office, only to be followed by Mort. Much discussion ensued wherein Mort revealed that he was indeed looking for Jess Harper but only for questioning. Mort asked the Sheriff to let him be the arresting officer, fearing that Jess would shoot it out with Lenaway if cornered. Grudgingly, the Braxton Sheriff allowed that Mort and Slim could go after Jess as soon as they knew Andy was going to be okay.

Slim sat beside Andy's bedside, grateful that his brother was wide awake and appeared no worse for wear. But it was worrisome that Andy couldn't remember anything after Abe and Terry had broken him out of jail. The doctor called it selective amnesia. Something had happened that was so traumatic that Andy's mind couldn't deal with it. He would remember in time, but no one could predict exactly when that would happen. Andy didn't remember saying what he did when waking up from the coma. He didn't remember even seeing Jess nor falling from his horse. Doc Collier gave Andy a sedative and assured Slim that he would sleep most of the day. He shooed Slim out of the clinic, saying he could do no good just sitting, watching his brother sleep.

It was only a couple hours later when Slim returned. He and Mort needed to head out looking for Jess and he wanted to be sure the doctor would take care of Andy. Assured he would be in good hands, Slim and Mort began the search for Jess. It didn't take Slim long to spot the familiar footprints leading from the back of Doc Collier's offices to the barn behind it and then the hoofprints clearly indicating someone had ridden away in a hurry, not bothering to cover their tracks. The tracks were fairly fresh so Mort and Slim had every confidence that they could catch up with Jess and get things straightened out.

But Jess led them on a less than merry chase. He had paused long enough outside the clinic's door to hear both Slim and Mort's voices. He knew they would come after him. What he didn't know was whether Braxton's Sheriff would be with them. He might be able to talk to Slim, or even Mort, but he wasn't about to let Sheriff Lenaway get his hands on him. While he loathed the idea of being arrested, he'd heard enough rumors to know the Braxton jail was no place he wanted to be. Knowing he'd be followed; he doubled back and crossed his own path multiple times. With over two hours head start, he had made good use of his former lawless background, causing both Mort and Slim to lose his trail multiple times, only to suddenly be able to find it again. Finally Slim pulled his horse to a halt.

Turning to look at Mort, he asked the question that had been preying on his mind since they had left Braxton. "You know what's he's doing don't you, Mort?"

Mort nodded knowingly. "Ya, he's leading us somewhere – somewhere where he feels safe. Apparently, Doc Collier was covering for him. Something stopped him from going to the law or being seen. Jess had to know we'd follow hm." Mort looked around him and towards the skyline. "He's making sure it is only us following him. Only then will he reveal himself and maybe get this mess straightened out." Slim nodded in agreement, turning to follow the trail his partner had left behind. They rode for another half hour before a bullet bit the dust in front of them.

"That's far enough." Jess' voice came loud and clear, yet neither man could tell exactly where it came from. Jess had chosen well. He was hidden from view yet Mort and Slim were in a clearing, easily visible.

"Jess, you need to turn yourself in, tell us what happened," called out Mort.

"Ain't gonna happen." Came the reply. "Them two Deputies killed Abe and Terry in cold blood. Gunned them down without a chance to defend themselves. I saw it. They came after me and I defended myself. I killed them. It was self-defense but no one is ever gonna believe me. They'll hang me if I come back."

"Can I come up?" called Slim

"Leave your guns with Mort – and Mort you stay right where you are. I don't want to hurt you, but I will if I have to," came Jess' chilled answer. He watched as Slim handed Mort both his gun belt and his rifle.

"There's an opening off to your left. Take that until I meet you."

With a quick look at Mort, Slim nudged Alamo forward and into the opening where Jess had indicated. Mort waited impatiently, watching as Slim disappeared from sight. Slim had only ridden a short way when Jess commanded him to stop and dismount. Only then did Jess reveal himself, yet he stayed standoffish, not coming forward to greet his partner, his rifle balanced over crossed arms, ready for action. Slim barely recognized the man before him. Jess' voice was harsh, his body tense, aware of every movement around them.

"Slim." He greeted solemnly with a nod of his head.

"Jess." Slim responded back, not sure of how things were going to go. Slim looked around before taking a deep breath. "What happened to Andy, Jess? Jonesy said you'd gone after him. You took your gunfighters gun."

"I found him, tracked him down. He said he didn't know Abe and Terry would break him out of jail. When he saw how bad Mort was hurt, he got scared and ran. I also knew Abe's reputation. He was bent on becoming famous, so there's no way he'd let Andy confess to anything. He had to keep Andy with him to keep him from going to the law. I'd overheard Abe mention Braxton. Abe was planning on hiding out, greasing the Sheriff's palms a little with the money they'd stolen. I was prepared to do what I had to do to keep them from reaching Braxton. My working gun just wasn't going to do the job. But I sure never figured on no Deputies spoiling the party."

"How'd he get hurt?"

"I found him after the shooting." Technically, it wasn't a lie, he just didn't mention that Andy has been at the campsite and seen the whole thing too. "He didn't have nothing to do with it. It was all on me. But he'd had enough time to work things out for himself. He wanted to turn himself in and take whatever was coming to him, even if it was a stint in jail." Ever cautious, Jess paused and did a visual sweep of the area before continuing on. "We were headed back to Laramie." Jess seemed to be getting nervous as he looked around the area again, slowly backing away from Slim. "His rein broke going down a slope and he got thrown. Andy hit his head when he fell. I took him to the doctor. I'm sorry I had to leave him, but I couldn't chance getting arrested. . . . is he okay?"

Slim nodded as he spoke. "He's fine. He's out of the coma but he doesn't remember anything from the time Abe and Terry broke him out of jail until he woke up." He paused before asking the question foremost in his mind. "What happened out there, Jess, at the campsite?"

Jess was shaking his head as if in disbelief. "It's like I just told ya. I'd just ridden up on the boy's campsite. I'd left Traveler a way behind and was just about to announce myself when the two Deputies rode in. They didn't act much like Deputies. They rode right in and dismounted, helped themselves to the food and everything without asking or being invited. Only then did they reveal their badges. They never told the boys they were under arrest, just pulled their guns and killed 'em in cold blood. They never had a chance to turn themselves in or defend themselves. Then the Deputies laughed about it and started rummaging through everything. When I made myself known, they didn't hesitate, started right in shooting at me. I had no . . ."

A gunshot echoed across clearing where they stood. Slim watched in horror as Jess' body jerked and spun, arms flailing before his legs collapsed and he laid unmoving upon the ground, a red stain rapidly spreading across his chest. On a ledge above them stood the Braxton Sheriff holding his rifle in both hands over his head as he crowed: "I got him! I got him. I got that Deputy shooting bastard".

Slim was beside Jess in an instant. He grabbed his extra bandanna and pressed it over the gaping wound in Jess' chest, realizing that blood also soaked the ground beneath him. He'd been shot in the back and it was a through and through. He shouted for Mort while putting pressure on the cloth, watching as Jess' life blood flowed between his fingers and over his hands. Jess was bleeding out and he was desperate to save his partner's life.

Jess's eyes were going blank as he tried to talk. "Don't try to save me," he gasped. "I ain't worth it. They'll just hang me. Let me go, Slim, let me go." One hand was cupped around Slim's elbow as he continued to press on Jess' wound, futilely trying to stanch the endless flow of blood that would spell Jess' death. "Jus' take me home. . ." Jess' sentence went unfinished and his body went limp as he succumbed to the darkness calling his name.

"You're not going to die!" shouted Slim. "I won't let you. You're going home alright and not in a pine box. Stay with us, Jess, stay with us." He pleaded.

Suddenly Mort was beside him, pressing bandages into the gaping wound, doing his best to help stanch the flow. They looked at each other, knowing the chances of getting Jess to the doctor in time was hopeless.

Sheriff Lenaway joined them, a triumphant grin upon his face. "I got that dirty bastard. County won't be out of pocket on this one. I saved 'em the cost of both the trial and a hangin'." Whatever else he'd been about to say was cut off when Mort landed a swift left hook to the Sheriff's jaw, knocking him to the ground. Lenaway rubbed his face ruefully.

"What'd you do that for?" he said as he struggled to his feet. "He's just a dirty no account drifter that killed my Deputies." He wasn't prepared for a second attack – this time from Slim whose blow also put him to the ground. This time the Sheriff was holding his jaw when he stood up.

"What's with you two?" he asked, checking to be sure his jaw wasn't broken. "He something special to you? You couldn't possibly be friends with the likes of him." Said the Sheriff, about to kick Jess' body, only to find himself backed up against a tree with Slim's fists gripping his lapels. Seeing the angry look upon Slim's face, Lenaway had the good sense to shut up and be scared.

"Ya, he's something special to us," growled Slim. "Not only is he a part time Deputy," he looked back for a second, seeing Mort still working over Jess, and then back at the Sheriff, shaking him once more for good measure, "that man you called a no-account drifter just happens to be my partner." Lenaway's feet were barely touching the ground as Slim's grip got tighter. "And I take it mighty personal when someone shoots him." Slim's grip got even tighter, as he easily lifted the pudgy Sheriff up to face level. "You accused him of killing your Deputies. I know Jess and I know he'd never kill a lawman without provocation. But you're worse than what you accuse him of. At least your Deputies were shot in self-defense; not back shot like you just done. You're the lowest lowlife there is." Slim finished by tossing the Sheriff to the side in disgust. Lenaway lay where he had fallen, watching as Slim returned to Jess' side. As soon as he saw they were preoccupied, he crawled away and rode back to Braxton.

CHAPTER NINE – CAPTURED

Without all the twists, turns and double backs encountered on the way out of town, the trip back to Braxton was faster but more grueling. Traveler was not fond of the travois he pulled carrying his master. Slim remained anxious as he was sure his partner could feel every bump and lump along the way. Arriving at Doc Collier's clinic, he and Mort levered Jess onto the examination table.

Examining Jess, Doc Collier fussed and fumed while cleaning the wound. He half listened as the men replayed the events leading up to their arrival. However, his head jerked up when he realized that Jess had been shot in the back. It was then, even as Collier worked feverishly over Jess, that he spilled about the unsavory lawman's track record with mysterious injuries and deaths of his prisoners along with his demand for protection money. Somehow, he wasn't surprised that the Sheriff had gone one step further, willing to commit murder in his determination to seek justice for his dead Deputies.

After what seemed like hours, the doctor stepped back, exhausted. Wiping his forehead, he shook his head. "I've done all I can do," he said, one hand gently resting on his patient. "The rest is up to him. If he makes it through the next couple of days, and the wound doesn't become infected, he'll survive."

The Doctor didn't sound too hopeful, leaving Mort and Slim unsure of the future. Slim volunteered to stay at the clinic so that he could watch over Jess and catch up with Andy while he healed. Mort chose to retire to their hotel room in order to calm down before confronting the Braxton Sheriff again.

The room was dark when Jess awoke. His first reaction was relief that he was still alive, followed quickly by the knowledge that he would only live long enough to hang for murder. He knew it was useless to tell his story about the deputies murdering Abe and Terry in cold blood. No one other than Slim and Mort would believe him. Not only was the story unbelievable, but he was a gunman and no one was going to take his word for anything. Moaning slightly in discomfort, he tried to touch the bandages covering his chest, only to find his free hand restrained. Looking down in confusion, he jerked his hand up in an attempt to free it, feeling steel bite into his wrist. The sound of metal clanking on metal let him know he was handcuffed to the bed's railing. With his left arm in a sling and his right arm handcuffed, he knew he wouldn't be going anywhere for a while. He sighed and settled back into his pillows. His future looked bleak. The only daylight he would see for the rest of his life, however long that may be, would be through the bars of a jail cell window

Jess' jerking on his handcuffs awakened Slim who had fallen asleep on the chair beside his bed. Jess sighed silently; thankful his partner was nearby. But even that little effort had exhausted him.

"Get these damn things off me." Demanded Jess, once again jerking on the handcuffs, although his voice wasn't as strong as it usually was.

"Sorry, buddy." Replied Slim quietly, not wanting to wake either his brother or the doctor. "That danged Sheriff was insisting you be treated over in the jail house. This was the best we could get him to compromise to."

Slim offered Jess a drink of water, hoping it would help his dry throat and voice. He could tell the smallest effort exhausted Jess.

"How bad?" whispered Jess weakly.

"Doc says you'll live."

"Ya, long enough to meet the hangman." Quipped Jess.

"You aren't going to hang," declared Slim. "We'll get this all straightened out. You shot in self-defense. No jury can convict you for that."

"Except they were lawmen," came the reply. "They'll hang me sure as the sun's gonna rise."

Slim put a comforting hand on Jess' shoulder. "Just rest for now, Jess. That's all you have to do – just get better. Mort and I will do everything to get you set free." He didn't know if Jess heard him or not. Jess had already slipped back into a healing, restorative sleep.

For two more days, Slim split his time between Andy, Jess and the Sheriff's office. Lenaway stopped in several times a day, anxious to get his prisoner transferred to his jail. He seethed every time Doc Collier told him Jess was still too weak to sit up, let alone be moved. No, he still needed to be under the doctor's constant care.

Andy still couldn't remember anything new but had progressed to being up and walking around a little at a time. No one would tell him how Jess came to be shot, only that there had been a serious misunderstanding. Although he asked after Abe and Terry's whereabouts, all he received were vague and unsatisfying answers. Having the gap in his memory weighed heavily upon Andy. He kept feeling like there was something really important he should know about. Although he had been advised not to force his memories, Andy still kept trying to piece together whatever had happened during the days he'd been gone from Laramie.

It was the third night after Jess had been shot that the Sheriff slipped silently into Jess' room. Jess had insisted both Mort and Slim go back to the hotel to get a good night's rest, never figuring he'd be in any danger with the doctor being close by. Jess awoke with a start, trying desperately to draw air into his burning lungs. Something was being held over his nose and mouth, cutting off his air supply. With one hand restrained by the handcuffs and the other supported by a sling across his chest, he was at his assailant's mercy. He tried to roll back and forth, pushed with his legs but couldn't free himself from the weight bearing down upon him. He could feel himself on the verge of blacking out when the object was suddenly gone. Doc Collier stood in the doorway, holding a lamp to illuminate the room. He couldn't see the revolver held against Jess' side as Lenaway hissed "Say one word and I'll kill the boy." Wild eyed, his chest heaving, Jess just stared at Lenaway while drawing fresh air into his lungs.

"What are you doing here?" stormed the doctor.

"Why, I was just checking on my prisoner," replied Lenaway insincerely.

"In the middle of the night, when everyone's asleep?" challenged Doc Collier.

Lenaway shrugged. "I didn't get over here during the day. I didn't want to disturb you, so I let myself in. I was just checking to see how he was doing, when I can transfer him over to the jail."

"When I say he can be transferred. Now get out of here." Demanded Collier.

"Sure, sure." Replied the Sheriff, surreptitiously holstering his gun but placing a heavy hand directly over Jess' bandaged wound. He pressed down, causing Jess to wince and sweat to break out on his forehead. "One word." He hissed under his breath. "One word and the boy dies."

Jess' eyes locked on Lenaway. Through gritted teeth he warned. "Touch that boy and you'll be the one who dies."

"Sheriff." Said Collier, his voice indicating that he'd take no guff from the Sheriff.

"Ya, ya, I'm going." Lenaway said, lifting his hand and grinning crookedly at Jess before exiting the office

Jess fought to control his anger and the pain Lenaway had caused. He now feared for Andy's safety. Doc Collier came in to examine him, uttering a gasp upon seeing blood seeping through Jess' bandages.

"He did this, didn't he?" he asked, knowing that Jess probably wouldn't implicate the Sheriff. He had no doubt the sheriff had threatened harm to himself or Andy if Jess said anything. Over the years of being a practicing doctor, Doc Collier had developed s sixth sense when it came to people. Jess was no coward. The way he had fought back from his injury showed a strong heart and an even stronger will hidden beneath the rough exterior of the man before him. Collier was beginning to think that between Harper, Sherman and Cory, that there would be a new day dawning in Braxton – one where the Sheriff no longer ruled the town with an iron fist, but also a town where prisoners were no longer abused while in custody.

CHAPTER TEN – BRAXTON'S SHERIFF

It was barely daylight when Lenaway returned to Collier's clinic. He went straight to Andy's room, rousting the boy from a deep sleep. Trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes, Andy froze when he felt the cold steel of a revolver against his neck. Andy could smell the Sheriff's putrid breath as he leaned over and whispered in the boy's ear, telling him to get dressed and not make a sound. Andy shakily did as he was told, his eyes never leaving the gun in Lenaway's hand. Following the Sheriff's motion to stand up, Andy found himself thrown against the wall, the Sheriff's fat hand pressing against his neck so that he couldn't move. He struggled, trying to avoid the handcuff the Sheriff slapped on his wrist before dragging his arm behind his back and twisting it until Andy gasped and stopped struggling. Lenaway knocked Andy's knees out from under him, dropping him face first onto the floor where Lenaway swiftly captured his other wrist and secured the second cuff.

"What are you doing?" Andy cried out, his still changing voice breaking under the stress.

"Shut up, you young welp." Lenaway said as he jerked Andy to his feet and shoved him towards the door. Still unsteady from his accident, Andy tripped and almost fell, but righted himself. "You came in here with that Harper fellow. You must have been traveling with him. That means you're either a witness or an accessary in the killing of my Deputies. You're under arrest."

By now both Doc Collier and Jess were awake. Collier was trying to stop Lenaway from taking Andy, only to be physically shoved away, causing him to fall. Lenaway's gun pointed at him, caused him to stay where he had fallen. "The boy's going to jail and there ain't nothing you can do to stop it."

Jess couldn't see anything from his room, only hearing Andy cry out and loud voices as the doctor and Sheriff argued over the removal of Andy from the clinic. Jess jumped out of bed, intent on rescuing Andy. He'd forgotten about the handcuffs until he hit the end of his tether, the attachment to the bed jerking him to an unsteady stop. Frantic, he fought uselessly against the restraint, calling Andy's name in desperation, sure he heard Lenaway slam Andy into the closed door before forcibly manhandling him out of the clinic and across the street to the jail.

Doc Collier ran into Jess' room, aghast at finding Jess on his feet, the bed dragged halfway across the room. He never could have imagined the volatile Jess Harper who stood before him. He was partially relieved Jess was handcuffed to the bed. He'd never before seen a man so angry and so bent on rescuing someone else. Jess was so single minded that it scared the doctor. He was glad he wasn't on the receiving end of Jess' anger.

Regardless of Jess' intentions to rescue the Sherman boy, his injuries would have prevented any success in that regard. He simply wasn't healthy or strong enough to stand up for any length of time, let alone take on Braxton's Sheriff. Collier was worried about Lenaway's penchant for mistreating prisoners. However, he was pretty sure that once he left Jess' room, Jess would do everything in his power to escape. He didn't put it past the defiant Harper to tear the bed apart if it meant going to Andy's aid.

To ensure Jess could not possibly hurt himself in any attempt at freedom or rescuing Andy, Doc Collier dosed him with a sleeping powder. It was only as Jess appeared to succumb to the medication that Collier was able to get him back into bed. Satisfied that Harper would sleep for the next few hours, Doc Collier gathered up his medical bag and prepared himself to confront Braxton's Sheriff and assure himself that the boy had come to no harm.

Once inside his office, and away from prying eyes, Lenaway snickered as he body slammed Andy into the iron bars before forcefully tossing him into a cell. Unable to stop his forward motion or put out his hands to protect himself, he fell forward when his legs hit the bunk. The side of his face and shoulder impacted the jail's wall as he fell. He had a hard landing on the jail bunk's thin mattress, the wind knocked out of him. Andy felt nauseous from the rough handling, a severe headache overcoming him as he lay there. He tried to sit up only to feel his world spinning, forcing him to lie back down; yet lying down with his hands still handcuffed was nearly unbearable. Fighting the need to vomit, he suffered in silence, frightened of what the Sheriff had and could yet do to him; praying that Mort or Slim would arrive quickly and rescue him from the nightmare in which he was trapped.

Sheriff Lenaway propped his feet up on his desk, his gun drawn and resting comfortably out of sight, as he eagerly anticipated the arrival of Mort Cory and Slim Sherman. He licked his lips in delight, knowing he now held the high cards in the investigation as to his Deputies' murder. While he doubted Andy Sherman had anything to do with the murders, he had been in Harper's company and could be considered a material witness. Either way, he had grounds for holding the younger Sherman in jail and under his supervision. He grinned at how he had outsmarted the Laramie Sheriff. Cory was out of his jurisdiction and his being a lawman held no weight in Braxton. The older Sherman was merely a temporarily deputized citizen. He had even less standing than Cory. It was even better that his prisoner was Sherman's brother. He was sure Sherman would do nothing to put his brother in danger, leaving Cory alone and virtually useless in the grand scheme of things.

He was only slightly surprised when it was Doc Collier who entered his office first. Collier ignored Lenaway, going directly to the locked cell.

"Can you sit up, boy?" he asked gently. He watched as Andy struggled and was finally able to right himself, although he leaned back against the jail wall as if he couldn't hold himself upright. Collier almost gasped upon seeing Andy's scraped face and swollen black eye.

"Let me treat him." Collier demanded. Lenaway merely laughed and tossed the cell keys to him. Collier let himself into the jail cell. Turning back to Lenaway, he also demanded the cuffs be removed. Lenaway laughed again. "Not gonna happen," he said. "Gotta keep the prisoner from harming you or himself while in custody." Collier seethed but said nothing as he began to treat Andy's injuries.

It was only a few minutes later when Mort Cory and Slim Sherman let themselves into the Braxton Sheriff's office. Mort scowled, but Slim stopped dead in the doorway upon seeing Andy incarcerated and the doctor treating him. Lenaway hadn't told them he'd arrested the younger Sherman, let alone that he'd been injured.

Hands on Lenaway's desk, Mort leaned over and demanded the cuffs be removed. Lenaway merely shrugged his shoulders and repeated how he had to keep the prisoner from hurting himself or the doctor. Before Mort could react, Lenaway pointed his revolver at the Laramie Sheriff.

"Now get this straight," said the Braxton Sheriff. "That boy is my prisoner. Whether he's a material witness or involved in killing my deputies, he's still my prisoner. He'll either testify at Harper's trial or stand on the gallows alongside him."

Mort was taken aback. "But we don't even know if he was there!" he exclaimed. "He doesn't even remember anything since he left Laramie over a week ago. You can't possibly expect him to testify to anything."

"He'll remember. He'll remember how Harper killed my Deputies and the other two boys you told me about. He'll remember all right, if for no other reason than to save his own hide."

While the standoff was playing out, Slim strode into the jail cell. He gently took Andy's chin in his hand, turning his brother's face to view his injuries. Dropping his hand, a livid Slim joined Mort at the Sheriff's desk, only to also be held at bay by the sheriff's gun. Motioning to both of them, he ordered them to toss their guns into an empty cell where no one could reach them. As they were turning back to face the sheriff, the jail door slammed open, banging loudly against the wall.

A livid Jess Harper stood in the doorway, his clothes askew. Sling still around his neck, his left arm hung uselessly at his side as he leaned heavily on the door jamb for support. His right hand held his unholstered colt at his side. He took one look at the injured Andy before his gravelly voice warned Lenaway, "I told ya if ya touched that boy I'd kill ya." He stated, the threat very apparent in the depth of his deep voice.

Before Jess could bring his arm up, Lenaway fired at the vengeful Harper, his bullet hitting the doorjamb beside Jess' head. Time stood still as Mort and Slim watched Jess' hand come up in an automatic response. The lawman fell backwards, dead before he hit the floor. Before Mort could dive for the Sheriff's gun, Jess' urgent "DON'T" stopped him in his tracks.

Jess threw a quick look outside before turning his attention back to those inside the Sheriff's Office.

"Don't follow me," he warned both Mort and Slim. "I wouldn't like having to hurt either of you. You both been good to me." He paused, taking a shaky breath and holding his left arm with the other, his gun still in hand. He was sweating profusely from the effort, his breathing labored. When Mort moved as if to go towards him, he brought the gun back into play. "But I ain't turnin' myself in. I'll never get a fair trial here in Braxton. They'll hang me and I got no yen to dance at the end of a rope." He was backing out of the door. "Don't look for me 'cause you'll never find me."

There was a flurry of action as soon as Jess closed the door behind him. Mort went to the Sheriff, verifying he was indeed dead. Slim ransacked the Sheriff's pockets and desk drawers, finally finding the keys to Andy's handcuffs. As soon as his hands were freed, Andy threw his arms around his surprised brother. It took only a moment for Slim to return the embrace, each holding onto one another as if they'd never let go.

"I'm sorry, Slim, I'm so sorry." The youth sobbed into Slim's chest. "It's all my fault. Jess would never be in this trouble if it hadn't been for me. He came looking for me. He was protecting me from those Deputies."

Slim stepped back from Andy, a confused look upon his face. Holding Andy at arm's length, Slim began to speak. "What are you talking about Andy?" questioned Slim. "No one knows what happened other than what Jess told us. You're just repeating what you heard Jess say."

"He took Alamo," called Mort from the doorway. He had retrieved their guns from the empty cell and was watching the road where Jess and Alamo had disappeared. Slim turned to join Mort only to have Andy jerk him back to face him.

"I know what happened," he said earnestly. "I was there. I saw those deputies kill Abe and Terry in cold blood. No warning nor nothing."

"Your lies can't save him, Andy," replied Slim. "I told you, you're only repeating what you've heard Jess say. You weren't even there. Jess said he found you after the shooting." He turned once again to join Mort only to have Andy grab his vest and forcefully turn him around. Andy grabbed both of Slim's lapels and shoved him back up against the desk.

"You gotta listen to me, Slim!" Andy practically yelled. "Ya, Jess found me after the shooting. I saw it all happen, turned and ran. I ran right into Jess. So, ya, he wasn't lying when he said he found me after the shooting. I didn't have a gun. He pushed me into the undergrowth and went the other way, drawing their fire. He tried to ask who they were but they never identified themselves, never said nothing, only started firing on him. He had to kill them, Slim, he had to kill them." He was shaking Slim so hard that when he let go, Slim fell backwards, tumbling over the Sheriff's desk and landing on the floor on the far side.

Andy drew in a breath, scared for what he had revealed; scared he had hurt his brother and scared he had somehow condemned Jess with his outburst. Slim shook his head to clear it. But when he looked down at the paperwork which had fallen off the desk with him, it was him who drew in a shaky breath. Grabbing two of the WANTED posters from the pile on the floor, he stood up and called to Mort.

"Slim, come on, we gotta catch up to Jess," commanded Mort.

"Mort!" Slim called again to his lawman friend. "You gotta look at this." He said, still not believing what he was seeing. Disgruntled, Mort came to stand beside Slim, looking at the posters he held.

"Isn't that . . ." began Slim as Mort let out a low whistle and took the posters from him.

"Sure as shootin'. Well, I'll be horn swaggered." Came the unusual reply from the Laramie lawman. "Them's the two we buried out there. They weren't Deputies at all, they were wanted men. They must have come across the real Deputies somehow and killed them then took their badges."

Mort removed his hat and scratched his head in consternation. He looked around the room at the other occupants. "Well, this changes everything." He said as he thought through what needed doing. "We need to telegraph and get a U.S. Marshall out here." They all began talking at once. "Jess is innocent!" cried Andy. "Jess doesn't know!" said one. "He thinks he's still a fugitive." Said another. "And he's in no condition to be out there alone!" added Doc Collier. He looked at Slim. "You must go after him. I dosed him pretty heavy with a sedative. I have no idea how he's still on his feet or got out of the handcuffs, but he's in extreme danger being out there alone in that condition. When the sedative kicks in, he's going to be out for hours. I figure it is adrenaline that's keeping him on his feet right now, but when that wears off." the doctor shook his head. "If that wound starts bleeding again or gets infected, he won't be able to take care of himself. You must find him - and soon."

By now a crowd had gathered. News spread quickly that Lenaway had been killed and the perpetrator had fled Braxton. "He's the same one that killed our deputies!" shouted someone in the crowd. Another shouted to form a posse. Others shouted they'd get the rope for the necktie party. The crowd was ugly and getting uglier by the minute.

Hoping his presence would calm the crowd, Mort Cory stepped out onto the boardwalk in front of the Sheriff's office, his badge clearly visible. He was joined by both Slim and Dr. Collier. Holding up his hands for silence, Mort waited patiently for the crowd to settle down.

"My name is Mort Cory," he began. "I'm the sheriff in Laramie and I'm the one who brought the news of the Deputy's deaths to your Sheriff." There was a rumble through the crowd. "But it has just been discovered," he continued, "that the men Slim and I buried were NOT your town Deputies, but in fact two men wanted by the law." He held up the posters of the two men. "These are the men we buried. I'm sorry, but I don't know the status of your Deputies, but since these men were wearing their badges, I'm assuming they encountered and killed them." The crowd was listening now.

"What about the man at Collier's clinic?" shouted someone from the crowd.

"Jess Harper was only wanted for questioning. Lenaway shot him in the back while we were talking to him." There was a murmur through the crowd.

"But he killed Lenaway!" shouted some else.

"Lenaway used a sixteen year old boy to bait a trap for Harper. He held us at gunpoint and he shot at Harper without warning or even trying to arrest him. Harper shot back and killed him. There's four of us who witnessed it."

"What happens now?" asked someone.

"I'm sending for a U. S. Marshall to come take over until you can elect a new Sheriff."

"Will you stay until he gets here?" a spokesman for the crowd asked.

Mort looked questioningly at Slim, Andy and Collier, knowing he really had no jurisdiction in Braxton but realizing the town needed to feel some form of normalcy.

"I can find Jess." Slim answered the unasked question. Mort nodded; his decision made.

"All right, if that's what you want, I can be acting Sheriff until the authorities get here."

That seemed to satisfy the crowd and they slowly drifted away.

"I'll just go saddle Traveler. I may as well use him since he's here." Said Slim as he stepped off the sidewalk.

"I'm coming too!" shouted Andy, only to have Doc Collier reach out and pull him back.

"Oh no you aren't" began the doctor. "With the concussion you already had plus the way you were treated this morning, you're not safe on a horse. Nope, you are headed right back to my clinic and bed."

Andy wrenched himself away from the doctor's grip. "I'm going." Yelled Andy angrily. "Jess needs me. I gotta tell him I remember. That everything is okay."

Slim looked at Andy sternly. "You're not going," he said flatly. "What makes you think Jess will believe anything you'll say? All you've done is lie since you got home from school."

"But, Slim" said Andy, trying to hold back the tears. He felt guilty that Jess was on the run because of him. He needed to make it right.

Slim shook his head. "No, Andy, you aren't well enough to ride and you'll only slow me down." Slim looked down the road Jess had taken, worried about how much distance he had been able to put between him and the town. He knew when Jess was on the run that he could be hard to track. Knowing that Jess was afraid for his life, Slim knew he'd be even harder to corner, let alone get close enough to let him know he wasn't wanted anymore. He didn't even know if Jess would trust him again. He'd trusted them when Lenaway had shot him. Slim remembered how long Jess had lived at the ranch before Jess had begun to trust him. He didn't know if everything they both had worked so hard for was now ruined by the actions of a crooked lawman.

Just as Slim finished saddling Traveler, Doc Collier entered the barn. Handing a bag to Slim he said "Here's some food for your journey, and this" he said handing Slim a canteen, "is birch bark tea. Jess is going to need it to fight any infection."

Slim nodded in acknowledgment as he stepped up onto Traveler. Worry caused his forehead to furrow into wrinkles. He was worried – about Andy, about finding Jess, about Jess' health and how he was going to convince Jess he as no longer wanted.

Slim tracked Jess until he could no longer see the trail. Unhappily he stopped for the night, his loyalties torn between finding Jess and worrying about his brother. He knew why Jess had run. Somehow, he couldn't blame Jess for not wanting what would surely be a biased trial. There were so many legalities to straighten out. Jess hadn't killed any deputies, but he had definitely killed the Sheriff. Would that count as self-defense? Was he pushed into having no choice but to shoot Lenaway? Had he shot out of anger or self-defense? Would he have shot Lenaway anyway? And what about Lenaway's treatment of Andy? The jail wall had done an ugly job to the side of Andy's face and there was no rational explanation for the black eye. Slim had no doubt the rumors about Braxton's sheriff were true. He dearly regretted it had been his brother who had been subjected to the mistreatment.

CHAPTER ELEVEN – UNABLE TO TRUST

Jess shivered as he awoke slowly. His body hurt from laying on the rough underbrush. He found it strange that he hadn't cleared an area within which to sleep. The morning dew had soaked his clothing. He looked around, trying to figure out where he was and why he was lying on the ground. He neither remembered dismounting nor falling off, yet Alamo was only a short way from him, still saddled and looking dejected. He remembered then, having been dosed by the doctor. He'd pretended to succumb to the medication, spitting it out as soon as the doctor turned his back, then escaping his handcuffs and shooting the Braxton Sheriff. He groaned, knowing the law would be after him yet again for another shooting. It was just lucky they could only hang him once for all the atrocities he had committed.

He wiped a hand across his face wincing when it hurt. He looked at the hand which had been secured in the handcuff. He had fought and pulled until his hand had grudgingly slid through the metal encircling his wrist. It had not come without injury, however, as a chunk of skin had been scraped away during the effort. He didn't even remember it hurting, but it sure hurt now and was stiff. He worked his fingers, finding them unwilling to do his bidding. He patted his pocket, searching for the knife that wasn't there, chastising himself for the very thing he'd lectured Andy about – being prepared. Then again, he hadn't really had any plan in mind when he'd gone after the Sheriff, figuring he'd die in the shootout. His sole thought had been to rescue Andy. His flight from Braxton had been spur of the moment, not even taking his own horse for his escape. He blamed his fuzzy thinking on the medication the doctor had gotten down him. He'd been fighting it from the moment he'd swallowed it. Pure adrenalin had kept him on his feet and well into his getaway. But somewhere along the line he had succumbed to the medication and slept – which explained his uncharacteristic bed in the woods.

He tore away part of the sling which was once again holding his injured arm. Wrapping one injured hand with the other injured hand was difficult at best. "Boy, you sure know how to get into trouble." He muttered to himself. He rubbed his thighs and upper arms, trying to coax some warmth back into his shivering body, yet knowing he'd have to wait for the sun to come out in order for his clothes to dry.

Scooping up Alamo's reins, Jess prepared to mount, only to discover that he couldn't. He didn't have enough energy or strength to hop into the stirrup nor simply step aboard the taller horse. Leaning against Alamo, Jess realized he felt hot and was sweating in spite of shivering in his wet clothes. He moaned inwardly. He couldn't afford to get ill – not now. Leading Alamo down the road, Jess found himself stumbling every so often and sometimes felt disoriented, yet he continued on, determined to outdistance anyone who may be on his trail. He finally found an incline where he could scramble up and then step onto Alamo. It was a relief to be back aboard the horse, although Alamo was not the most cooperative of mounts. Jess wished he'd planned ahead and had Traveler beneath him. Added to their understanding of each other, his saddle carried his extra clothes, blankets and other supplies. He needed the bandages contained therein. By midafternoon, he was barely aware of his surroundings and almost missed hearing another horse on the road behind him.

Slim had gotten back on Jess' track as soon as there was enough daylight to see hoofprints. He'd stopped to let Traveler rest but he'd eaten lunch in the saddle, unwilling to waste any more time. He found where Jess had spent the night, although the markings were confusing. Resolved to find his partner, Slim continued on until late afternoon when Traveler suddenly perked up. His ears pricked forward and his head came up, his nostrils flaring as he smelled the scents in the air. His ambling walk became animated as he pulled at the reins to let him hurry forward. Sensing he was close to catching up to Jess, Slim cautiously allowed Traveler to canter forward, pulling up when he found Alamo standing alone on the trail with no sign of Jess. Slim pulled Traveler to a stop, scanning the area for his partner.

"Don't move, Slim" came a voice from the edge of the trail. Slim turned to see Jess holding a gun on him.

"I thought I'd never catch up to you!" exclaimed Slim. "I've got to. . ."

"You ain't taking me back!" growled Jess, cutting off whatever Slim had begun to say. "Now step down off my horse. Easy now!" he motioned with his gun. Slim did as he was told. Following Jess' motioning, he moved away from Traveler.

"Jess, you need. . ."

"I don't need nothin'." Replied Jess angerly as he moved to Traveler's side. "Now you just toss your gun over there into the brush.

"Don't" barked Jess when he thought Slim might draw on him instead of tossing his gun.

For the first time, Slim took a good look at his partner. Jess didn't look well. His shirt was soaked with sweat even though it wasn't that warm out. He seemed unsteady and his gun hand was bandaged. His arm was out of the sling, but he still carried the sling around his neck. Something was very wrong.

"Jess, you . . ." Slim said and started to step forward, only to be warned back one more time. He watched helplessly as Jess dragged himself aboard Traveler. Gone was the lithe hop into the stirrup and even though Jess still held his gun on Slim, he wobbled in the saddle and sweat poured down his face.

Forcing himself to sit up, Jess holstered his gun and grabbed Alamo's reins.

"I'll leave Alamo down the trail a bit," he spoke. "It'll slow you down some and since he ain't carrying no supplies, you'll either have to follow me with nothing or go back to Braxton. Go back to Braxton, Slim, don't follow me. Here," he tossed one of the canteens towards Slim. "Don't want ya wantin' for water." Then, nodding his head at Slim, he turned and quickly rode away, leading Alamo behind him.

"Jess, WAIT!" called Slim. "You need . . ." but it was too late. Jess was already gone, leaving behind the canteen containing the birch bark tea. Slim shook his head, if only Jess had tossed the other canteen, then he'd at least had some medicine. Sighing in resignation, Slim searched the brush for his handgun. Then, picking up the abandoned canteen, he began following the trail, knowing that he'd have a good long hike, but at least he would be able to find his horse and wouldn't have to walk back to town. Slim racked his brain, trying to figure out how to let Jess know he wasn't wanted anymore, but came up empty.

He was resigned to returning to Braxton empty handed and worried about Jess' health and escape mentality. If only he had listened, they could be riding back together. Slim shook his head. He couldn't chase Jess with no supplies so he had no choice but to return to Braxton. He'd been gone from the relay station for too long. He couldn't take any more time to follow Jess. He had to go home and get things straightened out. He also remembered that Andy still had to turn himself in and take his punishment. His duty was to Andy and the ranch. He had no choice, he had to return home.

It was a sad, cold, and hungry Slim Sherman who stopped at the hitching rail in front of the Braxton Sheriff's office. Andy was out the door in a flash, but Mort was right on his heels.

"Where's Jess?" Cried Andy, disappointed that he had not returned with Slim.

Slim shook his head. "He's gone, Andy. I caught up to him but he pulled his gun and rode off on Traveler with all the supplies," he shook his head. "I had no choice. I had to come back without him."

"But he's injured!" Cried Andy again, almost in tears. "You gotta find him, Slim. Ya gotta. It's my fault he's out there."

Slim placed a comforting hand on Andy's shoulder. "I tried," he said sadly. "I caught up to him but I couldn't make him listen. He's all right." Slim lied, knowing full well Jess was anything but all right, but he needed to comfort Andy. "He's headed back out on the owl hoot trail and we'll never find him until he's ready to be found." Then looking at Mort, he continued on. "I have to get back to the station. I've left it too long already. Jonesy will be wanting to know what's happening and you," he pointed at Andy, "have a little matter of breaking and entering and a jail break you need to atone for." He sighed. "We can't help Jess right now. It's time we go back home."

Andy jerked away from Slim's touch, anger flashing through him. Fists knotted, he pounded on his brother's chest. "NO!" he bellowed, tears streaming down his face. "You can't leave him! He never left me when he could have. I know what it's like out on the owl hoot trail. I know why he never talks about his past. It's awful Slim, it's cold and lonely and dirty and . . . well, he'd never leave you. You can't leave him. What kind of friend are you?" Andy's ramblings ceased as he dissolved into tears against Slim's chest. Slim just held him, gently rubbing the boy's back as he cried out his pain and frustration, knowing exactly how Andy felt and knowing he could do nothing to change the current situation.

Mort nodded his agreement, wishing his answer could be different. "The U.S. Marshal will be here tomorrow. I need to get back too. Lon's had a lot on his hands while we've been gone. Let's go inside and work out the details."

Andy sat quietly as Mort and Slim worked out the details for leaving as soon as the U. S. Marshal arrived. Because of the jail break, Andy would not be allowed to return to the ranch. He'd have to go straight to jail with Mort. He didn't like that prospect but knew the time had come to pay for what he'd done. Mort had been lenient and let him move around freely while in Braxton. He didn't relish riding into Laramie in handcuffs but, unlike the Braxton Sheriff who had mistreated him, he knew he could entrust himself to Mort's care. All he could think about was Jess out on the trail alone. He hadn't believed Slim when he said Jess was okay. He'd seen how shaky Jess had been when he'd shot Lenaway. He had given his word to Mort to not run away or follow after Jess, and although it now galled him, he knew he had to keep his word if he were ever to be trusted again.

Later that night, all three settled into their room at the hotel. Andy tossed and turned well into the night before deciding he just couldn't sleep. Too much rambled around in his brain and he couldn't forget about Jess being innocent yet riding the owl hoot trail. It seemed he wasn't the only one who couldn't sleep as Slim stood looking out the window towards the trail Jess had taken. Andy's words had weighed heavily upon him and he was torn between duty and loyalty. He had a duty to his livelihood – the ranch but yet he owed his loyalty and friendship to the man who now rode alone, believing himself wanted by the law. He shook his head. He had to go back yet he couldn't leave Jess behind.

"Slim" began Andy, trying not to wake Mort.

"Hmmmm" was his non-committal answer.

"If Mort agrees, there is a way for you to stay here and go back after Jess and have the relay station covered."

Slim turned to look at Andy "That's not possible." Was his reply.

"Yes, it is." Came Andy's enthusiastic reply. "If Mort allows me, I can go back to the station. With Jonesy, I can run it and keep everything going until you get back. Jonesy will make sure I stay put and do my work. Mort will know where I am and I'll turn myself in as soon as you get back." Andy's enthusiasm had gained momentum as he laid out his idea. He had no way of knowing whether either Slim or Mort would go for his suggestion.

"Well, what do you think?" Andy questioned, hoping desperately the two grownups would agree.

"I think we could make that work," came the reply from Mort's bed as he sat up. Seeing the other two look at him he chuckled. "I couldn't sleep either. It's been rubbing me wrong that we gotta leave Jess out there not knowing he can come home."

Forgetting he was a "mature" sixteen years old, Andy let out a whoop and danced around the room, exuberant that Mort had accepted his proposal and Slim would be riding after Jess.

CHAPTER TWELVE – ALONE AND INJURED

Jess regretted how he'd left Slim afoot and only took Alamo a mile down the road before tying him to a convenient tree for Slim to find. Without extra clothes, bedding or supplies, he was pretty sure he had made it impossible for Slim to follow him any further.

Setting off at a steady pace, Jess covered a great deal of distance from where he's left Alamo. He was feeling worse as the day wore on and it bothered him that Slim had almost ridden right up on him. Only his survival instincts had warned him of Slim's approach and he was thankful it had been Slim instead of a posse. He had to be more careful if he didn't want to be waylaid and dragged back to Braxton to face charges.

By early evening, he was riding hunched over the saddle horn, barely able to stay in the saddle. He shivered while sweating profusely and now had a headache so bad he could hardly think. He was nearly pitched off Traveler when he stopped suddenly at the edge of a clearing. Before him was what appeared to be an empty cabin. There were some chickens in the yard and a horse in the corral, but no light shone from the cabin and no smoke rose from the chimney. Jess was pretty sure it wasn't an abandoned place, yet it wasn't as neat as a regular working farm. However, that may be, it appeared that there was no one in residence at the moment. Taking a chance, Jess rode forward, sliding off Traveler when he stopped at the front porch. Jess knocked and called out, hoping desperately that no one would answer. Only his voice echoed in the night. The door swung open easily at his touch as he let himself in. There was a small glow in the fireplace. He stirred the ashes, bringing the glow back into a flame before adding wood. It was the last thing he would remember doing before he passed out on the floor.

"Henry!" Henrietta Ferguson called out to her husband. Henry, hearing the tone of his wife's voice, jumped from the wagon and rushed into the house, rifle at the ready. Henrietta stood transfixed, staring at the stranger who appeared to be asleep on the floor of their cabin. Henry, in protective mode, warned his wife not to go near their intruder. But when his commands for the stranger to wake up and face them went unheeded, Henrietta decided there was something wrong with the man – something more than being exhausted and asleep. Ignoring her husband's warning to stay clear, Henrietta came forward to examine the stranger. She reached out a hand to touch the man's forehead, only to jerk it back quickly. Henrietta was wide eyed when she turned back to her husband. "Lands sake, Henry, the man's burning up! He's got a bad fever."

"Ain't no concern of ours," replied Henry unsure of what to do.

Henrietta turned on her husband. "You'll help me get him into bed." She said as she gently touched the young man's face, feeling sorrow and wondering what had brought him into their home. Henrietta believed things happened for a reason. There was a reason this man came into their lives; she just didn't know what that reason was. Ever an optimist, she looked at the boyish face and knew he was not there to harm them. Perhaps he had been sent to them merely because he needed someone to watch over him while he healed.

Grudgingly, Henry did as his wife bid, although fussing the entire time. Once they had their intruder settled into bed, Henrietta fussed and fumed as she unwrapped the bandaged hand, only to discover it infected. Further checking over the young man, she also discovered the healing bullet wound to his shoulder but said a prayer of thanks when it was not also infected.

"This young man has had a hard time of it," said Henrietta to her husband. "Wonder who he is."

Henry snorted. "Probably some gun slinger who got himself in trouble. Look at that gun he carries. I ain't never seen one like that." Henry shook his head. "That boy wakes up, he's out of here. We don't need no trouble brought down on us 'cause of the likes of him."

"Oh, poo." Declared Henrietta. "A professional took care of that shoulder, but no one's looked at this hand. It's been neglected. He must have hurt it out on the trail, but I can fix him right up. The boy just needs some doctoring and food, then he'll be right as rain."

"And out of here." Returned Henry. He turned to finish unloading their wagon while Henrietta set to treating Jess' infected hand.

Warmth and the smell of food cooking greeted Jess as he regained consciousness. His eyes searched the room he was in, trying to remember how he got here. His shoulder felt much better and, raising his gun hand, saw that it was freshly bandaged. The bed in which he lay was comfortable. Finally, he remembered having let himself into the empty cabin. He started for a moment, realizing the owners had returned. Wildly he searched for his gun, only to find it hanging on the bedpost beside him. He relaxed then, figuring they neither held no fear of him nor were a threat to him.

"Oh, good, you're awake." Came a soft, elderly voice as she entered the room. He watched her approach. She was of undeterminable age, willowy thin with gray hair and a kind face. "We found you on the floor when we got home." She sat in the chair beside his bed and placed a hand on his forehead. Smiling she began, "Your fever has broken. We were kind of worried about you since you slept so long, but then again, it seems your body needed it. Your hand is looking better already," she said smiling. "I'm Henrietta Ferguson, folks call me Netty." She said adjusting the covers on the bed. "You'll meet my husband Henry when he comes in from doing chores. Now, what's your name?"

"Harper. Jess Harper," Jess replied. He'd thought about using another name but decided he'd had enough lies. Besides, out here they weren't too likely to have heard that he was wanted. "How long I been here?" he asked.

"You've been out for two days," she said patting his shoulder. "Now, how would you feel about eating something, hmmm?" she said smiling. "I got a nice stew cooking. We'll eat as soon as Henry comes in. You're welcome to join us at the table if you feel up to it. If not, I'll be happy to bring you a tray." Before Jess could answer, she had left, shutting the door quietly behind her.

Jess waited anxiously to hear keys rattle or the click of a lock, indicating he was being held prisoner. But there was no such sound and he remembered his gun hung beside him. Maybe they were just a nice couple who had taken in a stranger in his time of need.

Supper was a bit awkward. While Henrietta smiled and tried to draw him into conversation, Henry's eyes never seemed to leave him. If two people could ever look alike, Henry was the male equivalent of Henrietta, although slightly stouter. Even when Henry spooned food into his own mouth, his eyes were on Jess. They weren't suspicious eyes – Jess had seen enough of those in his lifetime – but curious eyes as if Henry hadn't made up his mind as to what kind of man this stranger sitting at his table was. Henry seemed protective of Henrietta, making sure she kept her distance from Jess, but he took no overtly hostile action towards him. To his surprise, it was Henry who extended the invitation to stay a day or two until he felt well enough to ride on. Henry also mentioned needing to go into town in a few days and would be glad to pick up anything Jess needed. Since Jess was now without any money, he gracefully declined the offer.

By morning, Jess was feeling much better. Feeling obligated to his hosts, he tried to repay the Ferguson's kindness by fetching water and carrying firewood into the house. Henrietta voiced her displeasure that he was working so hard so soon after being ill, but Jess dismissed her concerns, feeling the need to make things right with the couple. Henry said little, but never left the house for longer than to feed the stock and do basic chores. He still kept an eye on Jess, yet never said anything to make Jess worry over his own safety.

It was still dark when Henry burst into Jess' room, his shotgun trained on Jess. Automatically, Jess reached for his gun but stopped, hands raised, by the farmer's warning. "You get up now," began the farmer "And don't try anything, I ain't afraid to cut you in half. The reward says dead or alive." He motioned for Jess to precede him into the living room. Hands raised, Jess did as bid, sitting down onto a chair when ordered to do so.

"Here, Netty." He said handing the shotgun to his wife. "You keep this here gun on him while I tie him."

Although Henrietta protested, she complied with her husband's directive. Jess winced yet said nothing when his injured arm was pulled behind him and the rope bit into his healing wrist.

"I'm too old to try to take you in by myself." Began the old man. "I'll have to leave you tied up until I can bring the Sheriff back." He moved to where Jess could see him. "Don't you try testing Netty none while I'm gone. She's as fine a shot as there is. That reward money will buy us supplies to get us through the winter with some left over." He finished, satisfied that Jess would go nowhere until he'd brought the Sheriff back.

"What reward?" Demanded an outraged Jess.

"For killing the Sheriff's Deputies." Came the reply. Henry opened an older, dog-eared newspaper. Center front on the first page was a wanted poster with Jess' likeness and an article describing his past indiscretions and now wanting him for the death of Braxton's Sheriff and Deputies."

"It ain't like that." Jess said, belligerently. "I was cleared of them original charges, and I didn't kill them deputies in cold blood like it says. They were the ones who killed two boys in cold blood. Never announced themselves nor nothin'. I was defending myself and a young boy. Ya, I killed 'em, but I killed 'em to save another's life. They would have murdered him for sure if I hadn't been there."

"Lies!" exclaimed Henry, incensed. "You just keep your mouth shut." He said as he slapped Jess across the face. "You keep spilling them lies, I'll gag you so you can't talk." Henry stepped back, feeling vindicated and slightly pleased with himself at capturing a wanted fugitive. He didn't see the rage in Jess' eyes as they turned from cobalt blue to the darkest depths of black. Jess held his tongue, vowing the physical affront would not go without retribution.

Turning quickly, Henry grabbed the rifle from over the door, kissed his wife and left. Hoofbeats could be heard as he rode away.

Henrietta and Jess stared at each other for a long time, each unsure of the other. Jess could see the uncertainty in the woman's eyes. Eventually Netty laid the shotgun across the table and sat down, head in hands and began crying. Jess worked at the ropes but Henry had done a good job of tying him. With his feet tied to the chair legs, the rope around his upper chest pinned his arms to his body, leaving only his wrists with any mobility. Jess twisted and turned his wrists in an attempt to free himself but to no avail.

"Netty," Jess called softly. 'I didn't do what they say. Please, you have to let me go. If they take me back to Braxton, I'm a dead man. They'll hang me before I can even get a fair trial – if I could even get a fair trial in Braxton."

Netty wiped her eyes and, arms wrapped around herself, paced the small kitchen area. Jess could see she was stressed, pacing back and forth, occasionally casting a look his way. She seemed to make up her mind and grabbed a kitchen knife. Approaching Jess, he wasn't sure whether she was going to use the knife on him or the ropes holding him. He breathed a sigh of relief when she knelt down beside him and began sawing at his bindings. As she cut, she began speaking.

"Henry won't be back until late. It takes a might to get to town and then he has to find the sheriff and convince him to come back here. That'll give you a good eight hours head start."

She gave him a small shove as the ropes fell away but noted that he was in no way healed or in any shape to be riding. "You go get your horse but stop back at the porch before you leave. I'll have some provisions ready for you to take."

Nodding an acknowledgement, Jess returned to his room to fetch his gun, hat and coat before rushing out to the barn to saddle Traveler. As promised, when he returned to the house, Netty had a sack filled with food, medicine and bandages ready for him.

"Jess," she said uncertainly as she handed it to him, "you be careful. You're not fully healed yet. Take care of that hand so it doesn't get infected again."

He gave her a big hug and began to step away but swung back to face her. "You going to be alright here alone?" he asked, suddenly feeling protective of this kind woman. He could see the stress on her face as she nodded and waved her hand to shoo him on his way. He didn't see her watch him until he disappeared from sight, all the while crying but firm in her belief she had done the right thing.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN – REMAINING BEHIND TO FIND JESS

Slim Sherman stood in the street of Braxton, watching anxiously as his brother and Mort Cory rode away. He was still torn over his conflicting loyalties, wishing there was a way to satisfy both needs. Jess had been made an official partner the previous year, marking a milestone in the three-some's relationship. Jess had become part of the family, almost as if he had been born to be a brother filling the age gap between Slim and Andy. Slim's demeanor and logic had calmed the hot headed and sometimes explosive tempered Jess. At the same time, Jess' ability to see the humor in things and take some of life's barbs unperturbed, helped Slim to loosen up and begin to enjoy life. They were opposites who worked well together, each wielding an influence upon the impressionable Andy.

Yet it was Andy who had read more into Jess' past than was actual knowledge and it was Andy's imagination which had created the excitement of being on the wrong side of the law. By now, Slim had determined that it wasn't Jess' fault that Andy had done what he had done, although he did place some blame on the now deceased Abe and Terry. Andy never told him what happened out on the owl hoot trail, but he was pretty sure he had Jess to thank for Andy turning himself in and taking whatever punishment came his way. Slim felt proud that Andy had stepped up, suggesting a solution to Slim's dilemma. He would never be able to repay Sheriff Mort Cory's lenience in allowing Andy to stay out of jail and run the relay station, allowing Slim to remain behind and search for their missing friend.

Sighing, Slim turned and mounted Alamo. He had a tough job ahead of him. Finding Jess when he didn't want to be found was nearly impossible. However, over the years, he had learned a lot about Jess' habits and tracking, and was confident he could catch up to his partner. Convincing Jess that he was no longer a wanted man would be the difficult task. Jess could forgive a lie, but not a betrayal – and that is how he would see Lenaway's shooting him in the back. He was sure Jess would lay the blame on himself and Mort, even though nothing could have been further from the truth. Slim decided he'd just take one step at a time and play the cards he was dealt.

Following Jess was easier than Slim could ever have anticipated. Jess had made no effort to cover up his trail. Slim now knew that he had been right – Jess was very ill. This concerned him all the more and he hurried more than usual in an attempt to catch up with him. The fourth day on the trail, Slim came upon a small farm. He noted the buildings seemed to need repair. There were chickens pecking here and there and a horse in the corral. Slim rode up to the farmhouse only to be greeted by an elderly lady toting a shotgun.

"State your business," she said clearly.

"I'm Slim Sherman," he announced. "I'm looking for a friend of mine." He tried to sound friendly.

"Ain't no one here 'cept me and my husband." She said, still sighting down the barrel of the gun.

"Well, maybe he's been by, maybe stopped in for a drink or to water his horse." Suggested Slim hopefully. "He's about six foot tall, slender, dark haired, blue eyed and has an injured hand."

Slim thought he saw a glint of recognition in the woman's eyes but it was quickly replaced with obvious mistrust as her hands tightened on the gun. She'd seen the badge on Slim's chest, figured he'd lied about their friendship, and wasn't about to help a lawman capture the man she knew to be innocent.

Henrietta had fretted the entire day after she'd set Jess free. Not only was she worried about his health, but she was worried about what Henry would say when he found out. All day, Netty prayed that she had done right in believing the young man who proclaimed his innocence. He was so kind and polite; he just couldn't be everything the paper said about him. He had explained how he had come to shoot the deputies who obviously weren't upholding their oath as lawmen. Somehow his words had rung true and that is why she had helped him escape.

She was still fretting over Henry's reaction when late that night he came galloping into their yard calling her name. He was alone and riding the horse faster than she'd ever seen him ride. He kept calling her name and saying something about Jess which she couldn't understand. Henry dismounted before his horse came to a stop and ran into the house carrying a newspaper in his hand. "Netty!" he fairly yelled as he entered their home. "It's Jess!" he exclaimed excitedly. "He's been cleared. He's not wanted anymore. We gotta set him free." Henry's voice died out as he spied the chair where he had left a bound Jess. He turned to Netty, mouth agape. "Where's Jess?" he asked in surprise.

"He's gone." She said resolutely. "I set him free."

Henry slumped into a chair, scratching his head before supporting his head on his hands, elbows on the table. "Oh Netty, if only you had waited until I got back." He let the sentence drop, unfinished.

"I couldn't let you turn him in to the Sheriff." She whimpered.

Henry stood up and put his arms around Netty as she began to cry in earnest, realizing the implications of what she had done. By helping Jess escape, he was still on the run, not knowing he had been cleared of all charges and the WANTED posters had been recalled. Tears staining her face, Netty walked out to stand on the porch, staring off into the star lit skyline where she had last seen Jess. "God be with you boy." She said to the evening air.

Now, as she stood on their porch, gun trained on the blond lawman, she lied to protect Jess. "Like I said, ain't no one here but us. But someone fitting that description rode by a few days ago. Watered his horse. Rode off that-a-way." She said pointing with her gun in the opposite direction from which Jess had ridden.

Slim touched his hat, thanked her and rode off in the direction she'd indicated.

Slim had ridden for a good half hour before he realized he couldn't find any prints of any kind. No one had been this way in days, possibly weeks. Pulling Alamo to a halt, he turned in the saddle, one hand leaning on his horse's rump, as he looked back at where he'd just come from. It was then he remembered the star pinned to his vest and the woman's reaction to him. He'd have known if she were hiding Jess, Alamo would have let him know if Traveler was anywhere nearby. In his heart, Slim knew Jess had been there all right, but Slim would have laid down bets that he'd ridden in the opposite direction. Following his instincts, Slim changed direction, skirting the farmhouse and crisscrossing the area until he found what he was looking for. He figured the woman had also lied about when Jess had been there. These tracks were only a day old and definitely Traveler's. For the first time in weeks, Slim felt hopeful, sure that he'd catch up with Jess shortly.

But Slim's hopes were dashed when the trail went cold. No matter how he scouted around, he couldn't find where Jess had passed through the area. Once again, he had disappeared. Stymied, Slim made camp for the night, figuring he'd puzzle out Jess' thinking and then be able to find his trail again in the morning. He was glad for the tarpaulin he'd brought as his makeshift tent protected him from the drizzle that began during the night. He only hoped Jess was as well prepared.

Come morning, Slim only waited long enough for things to dry before he rolled his blankets and tarpaulin and set out determined to find Jess. He was sure Jess would have been up and on the trail before daybreak, if he hadn't ridden through the night. With no trail to follow, Slim used his tracking skills and did his best to remember the few things Jess had said about escaping the law. Deep inside, he knew he was on his partner's trail – if he could only catch up to Jess long enough to tell him he wasn't a wanted man anymore.

Several hours in, Slim came across a campsite in disarray and which seemed abandoned. As he walked around, he got a knot in the pit of his stomach. The blankets were crumpled and rain soaked; the coffee pot carelessly tossed aside from a fire that appeared to have been extinguished by the overnight shower. However, his blood ran cold when he picked up the abandoned coffee pot only to discover it was riddled with bullet holes. Looking around he found more bullet holes marking the various trees surrounding the area. There had been a gun battle here. "Jess!" he said anxiously to himself as he looked hopefully towards the horizon, "Where are you?"

Knowing Jess wouldn't return to the campsite, Slim gathered up the blankets, intending to dry them out and at some point, return them to him. He speculated that Jess had been ambushed but escaped, leaving behind everything except his horse and saddle. There were plenty of hoofprints and footprints traversing the area, to let Slim know there were multiple riders on the prowl.

Still sure of Jess' direction, Slim continued on in search of his partner. Now, however, he also kept an eye out for any other tracks or riders. It was getting dark and he knew he needed to find shelter or a place to camp for the night. He'd scouted around carefully, assuring himself that he was alone before selecting a spot sheltered from the wind. He kept his fire low, not wanting to invite any unwanted characters to join him and knowing if Jess saw it, he'd be on the move again. Leaving the stew pot nestled in the fire's ashes, Slim knew it would stay warm until morning when he'd heat it back up for breakfast. He settled down into his blankets, preparing to sleep with one eye open. He didn't know who the intruders were that invaded Jess' camp and he didn't care to run into them in the night.

With only a sliver of a moon lighting the evening sky, darkness soon surrounded Slim and the area where he slept. When he heard the rustling in the trees; the sound of one person quietly working their way towards his encampment, he palmed his gun beneath his blankets, ready for any incursion. Fully awake and nerves on end, he watched through barely open eyelids to see who would appear.

Jess came in so silently that Slim almost missed his arrival. Gun in hand, Jess hunkered down by the stew pot and helped himself to the contents, his eyes always on the supposedly sleeping Slim. Slim had to stifle a smile; Jess was always hungry – probably more so since his supplies lie scattered back in the raided camp.

Watching Jess, it saddened Slim to view his friend and partner. Jess' clothes were torn and dirty. He was unkempt and was extremely cautious, constantly looking around, scenting the air and watching – just watching. He reminded Slim of a feral animal, forced to be close to humans but wholly untamed and ready to bolt at a moment's notice.

"You can just toss your gun out now, Slim," Jess said surprising Slim, yet never letting his own gun waver from being trained on Slim. Slim chuckled and carefully peeled his blankets back, sat up and tossed his gun in Jess' direction.

"You okay?" asked Slim, his eyes roving over Jess, looking for any new injuries. Even in the darkness, he could see that Jess was pale; his buddy was ill.

Still shoveling food into his mouth, Jess nodded. "I'm okay, but why'd you do it Slim?" he asked

Shocked and confused, Slim answered back "What are you talking about?"

"Why'd you set me up for that Braxton Sheriff to shoot me in the back?" he said between mouthfuls. "And them two bounty hunters on my trail – you send them after me too?" he asked angerly.

Shaking his head, Slim answered. "Wasn't like that at all, Jess. Once Mort and I figured out you were leading us somewhere, well, we just plain got careless. Never even thought that we might have been followed and like fools, left a pretty clear trail to follow. Mort and I just wanted to talk to you, bring you in safely."

"Ya, well we both know how well that turned out," interjected Jess bitterly.

Slim shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know anything about the bounty hunters. They shouldn't be after you anyways, you've been cleared of all charges. You can come home."

"Don't lie to me, Slim, it doesn't become you," replied the suspicious Jess. "You're still wearing a badge. You didn't come after me just for the fun of it. I ain't goin' back. I done told you that before. I'm not hanging for protecting Andy. If I had it to do all over again, I'd still do what I done, but I ain't givin' up my life because of it."

"Jess, I . . ." exclaimed Slim. "Jess . . .Jess" his voice trailed off as he watched Jess slump to the ground. Slim immediately went to his side. One touch to Jess' forehead told him Jess had a serious fever. He surmised Jess had passed out from the fever, exhaustion, and lack of food. Shaking his head, he carried Jess to his own bed and covered him with the blankets. Retrieving his own gun, Slim relieved Jess of his. He hoped that would give him an advantage over the younger man and maybe, just maybe, he could get Jess to listen to him and end this nonsense. Once assured that Jess would not awaken, Slim retrieved Traveler, unsaddled him and let him forage with Alamo. Coming back to the campsite, Slim set about placing cold cloths over the feverish Jess. Hugging his rifle, Slim settled into a comfortable but secluded spot where he could view a wide area around them. He would stand guard over his sleeping partner, changing cold cloths periodically throughout the night. He would make sure no one came near them. Slim stood guard as Jess slept through the next day and the second night, relieved that his color improved when his fever broke. He changed the bandage on Jess' hand, noting that it was now healing well. He had no medicine with him, so sleep was the best remedy Jess could have. Hearing Jess snore, Slim couldn't help but smile. It felt like forever since he's heard that familiar sound. It made him believe all would work out in the end and Jess would be accompanying him home. He sighed, relieved that they were together again.

The smell of coffee caused Jess to awake with a start. With no preamble, he was on his feet, hand reaching for his gun, wild eyed, looking around as if seeking an escape.

"Looking for this?" said Slim, patting Jess' gun in his waistband. He saw Jess relax just a tiny bit.

"Ya." Was the only response he got.

"Sit down, breakfast is almost ready." Replied Slim, pleased when Jess dropped cross legged to the ground, eyeing what Slim had in the pan.

"You call that breakfast?" he teased. "Looks more like a piece of rawhide."

"Well, it isn't the roadhouse's steak, potatoes and eggs." Slim nodded agreeably. "But it's food."

"You sure about that?" answered Jess, not too sure what was really in the pan.

"Ya, now eat up." He said handing Jess a plate. "And remember the old adage – the first one to complain is next meal's cook."

"You'd be sorry on that one." Answered Jess as he choked down the food without a word.

Finished with the meal, Jess tossed the plate aside.

"You ain't takin' me in." he said to Slim who was now also sitting cross legged across the fire.

"Don't need to." Said Slim between bites. "I told you last night, you're a free man. You can go wherever you want."

"An' I told you not to lie to me" said Jess pointing a finger at Slim. "I killed two Deputies and the Sheriff. I ain't goin' back for no sham of a trial."

"No, you didn't – and you are free." He interrupted Jess' tirade. "Look in my saddle bags, I can prove what I say."

Thoroughly suspicious, Jess opened the flap on Slim's saddlebags and pulled out the satchel contained therein. Still mis-trusting Slim, he followed Slim's indication to open the satchel and pulled out the papers he found.

"Recognize those two on the dodgers?" Slim began.

"But these . . . these are the two I killed – the Deputies," said Jess in disbelief.

"Only they weren't Deputies. They killed the real ones and took their badges."

Jess was looking back and forth between Slim and the WANTED posters. He felt a great weight fall off his shoulders. He hadn't killed two deputies after all. But that still left his shooting of the Braxton Sheriff.

"What about . . .?"

"Read the paper." Came Slim's reply to the unfinished question.

Jess opened the paper and was amazed at what he read. Looking up at Slim he questioned. "Is this on the level? This ain't no one-off to get me to surrender?"

Slim had to smile at Jess' disbelief. "No. It's for real. The U. S. Marshall they sent to Braxton did a thorough investigation and given Lenaway's reputation, concluded that you shot him in self-defense even though he was a lawman." He paused for a second. "You're free Jess. You can come home."

Jess' jubilant smile quickly turned into a frown. "No, I can't, Slim. I can't never go back." He said shaking his head sadly. Slim could see the troubled look in Jess' eyes. "It was my fault Andy acted out like he done. He thought life on the owl hoot trail would be exciting. You got your hands full without me being around influencing the boy. How is he by the way?" He looked confused when he heard Slim snort and kind of chuckle.

"Well, first of all, he regained his memory." Slim looked down, slightly ashamed. "He backed up everything you'd said but I didn't believe him at first. He'd told so many lies since he'd come home from school, I accused him of just repeating what he'd heard you'd say." He said guiltily, then looking up, locked eyes with Jess. "It's my fault, Jess, not yours. I was too hard on him growing up, held him back".

There was silence for a moment before he went on, a smile coming back onto his face as he spoke. "First of all, I owe you more than I can possibly pay in a lifetime. You saved him from being killed along with Abe and Terry. You protected him while you were out there. I'm pretty sure it was you who convinced him being on the wrong side of the law wasn't any fun. Don't rightly know what went on while you two were running. He wouldn't say anything about his experience on the owl hoot trail, but whatever it was, cured him from wanting to ever do it again." Slim straightened up; a look of pride came over him as he continued on. "He really manned up after that experience. He's gone back to take care of the relay station so I could stay here to look for you, let you know you weren't wanted anymore. When we get back, Andy has to turn himself in for trial and punishment, but I get the feeling he's going to come out of this okay. Pretty sure he's learned his lesson – and it was you who taught him what it's like; that it isn't fun or exciting to be on the run. Thank you, Jess, thank you for doing what I couldn't."

He was taken aback when Jess leaped across the fire and tackled him while shouting "Slim, down!" just as a bullet whizzed into a nearby tree. Slim tossed Jess' gun to him as they rolled apart, each taking a different position as more bullets filled the air.

"Harper!" someone yelled from a small distance away. "Give yourself up. We got you cornered and there's no way out."

Slim and Jess looked at each other. Their horses were unsaddled and back in the woods. They could make a run for it, but they wouldn't get far afoot.

"What do you want him for?" yelled Slim.

"He's wanted dead or alive for killing the Braxton Sheriff," came the reply.

"He's not wanted anymore. He's been cleared of all charges, I've got proof," returned Slim.

"Liar!" yelled the man as more bullets invaded their space. "Don't know who you are, mister, but if you've got him, you'd best give him to us. We been trackin' him the better part of a week. He's ours. The reward is ours."

"I'm Slim Sherman, a Deputy out of Laramie." Yelled Slim, knowing he had no authority, but hoping his lawman status might make the bounty hunters think twice. "I'm taking him in." Saying Jess was a free man had held no weight with them, maybe his status as a Deputy would make them think twice.

"Don't matter none," came the reply. "I told you he's ours and we're going to take him one way or the other."

Guns ready, Jess and Slim looked at each other and nodded. "Then come and get him." Roared Slim. With that, the bounty hunters came at them, guns blazing, not caring whether or not they killed their quarry. But Slim and Jess were prepared and protected themselves. When the smoke cleared, the bounty hunters lay dead. The Laramie men looked down at the men in sorrow. They hadn't wanted to kill them but had been left with no choice.

Solemnly, Jess and Slim buried the dead bounty hunters. It left a sour taste in their mouth that their day had started out having to kill someone. There was nothing left to say as they saddled up and began the trek back towards Braxton before heading home.

They rode side by side, each lost in their own thoughts. It was a comfortable silence, born by years of living and working together. They didn't need words. They didn't need conversation. Everything important had been said the morning Jess had awoken. Trust and friendship had been restored. That's all they needed.

As they neared the Ferguson farmhouse, Jess pulled Traveler to a stop. Resting his crossed arms over the saddle horn, Jess studied the farm in silence. Slim waited, remembering his own experience with the Fergusons and wondering what Jess was thinking.

Finally, Jess sat up. "Ya know, Slim." He began. "Them people were right good to me when I was sick." He grinned remembering their unorthodox introduction. "I broke into their house and passed out right on the floor. They took me in, doctored me and treated me real good." Then he sobered. "Well, that was until Henry got the notion to turn me in for the reward that is." He shook his head. "But his wife, Netty, well I'll be dog goned if she didn't turn me loose, and gave me supplies to boot." He looked at Slim. "I owe them Slim. I gotta do something to make it right. They certainly couldn't afford the extra feed for me and Traveler, let alone what she gave me to ride off with." He fell silent.

"Harrumph!" said Slim. "She greeted me with a shotgun. Said you'd been through a couple days before and then sent me off in the wrong direction. But if you really want to repay them." Slim silently pointed a finger at something in the distance. Jess pushed his hat back on his head and a giant smile crossed his face as he saw what Slim was pointing at. A herd of antelope was crossing the range below them. If they could get close enough, Jess could snag a good sized one to take to the Fergusons. Leaving Traveler with Slim, Jess worked his way down the hillside until he was within rifle range. From his position, Slim watched, grinning when he heard the shot and saw an antelope fall. Jess had bagged a beauty which would provide plenty of meat for the Fergusons. Leading Traveler, Slim rode down to meet Jess and help load his prize.

As they had both hoped, no one seemed to be around the homestead. Jess didn't want to get involved in any long-winded explanations and Slim didn't care to meet up with the business end of Mrs. Fergusson's shotgun. Concluding the Fergusons had gone into town, they rode down to the barn and, letting themselves inside, hung the antelope for Henry to find when he returned.

"Ya got any paper?" Jess asked

Sighing in resignation, Slim fished into his saddlebags, finally bringing out some paper and a pencil. Jess wrote a quick Thank You. Cleared of charges. Going home on the paper, signed his name and impaled it on one of the antelope's antlers. Satisfied he had repaid the Fergusons for their kindness, Jess and Slim returned to their horses and continued their journey back towards Braxton.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN – ANDY'S TRIAL AND PUNISHMENT

ONE WEEK LATER

Braxton lay far behind them as they continued their journey towards home. The new U. S. Marshall had re-assured them the cases regarding the deputies and Sheriff had been concluded. While they had been away, the bodies of the real deputies had been discovered and brought home for burial. They'd been shot in the back and stripped of all their possessions. It was a sad, but final conclusion to a strange saga.

Now, two very tired cowboys rode slowly towards Laramie. There were no words needed between them. They'd done their talking yet rode with the easy assurance brought about by friendship and a common goal. Each of their journeys had been long and tiring, each having left Laramie with the same yet different objectives and both were coming home. Time on the trail had made them tired, dirty and longing for their small ranch just miles from Laramie. All they could think of was riding down that long, winding and familiar road leading right up to the homestead, followed by a hot bath and uninterrupted sleep in their own beds. It was an image keeping them in the saddle longer and longer each night, trying to shorten the number of days required before they could complete their journey.

The steady rhythm of their horse's walking lulled both of them into semi-sleeping in the saddle. Both were awoken when their horses gait became animated. Looking around the area and then at each other, a smile broke out on each of their faces. Settling their hats on their heads, they set off in an easy canter. They were on Stagecoach Road and could see the faint outline of their home in the distance.

They arrived at the ranch house in a flurry of dust, chickens squawking, horses neighing and exuberant greetings from Jonesy and Andy. Jonesy greeted them with handshakes, his smile a mile wide that they were home and safe. Andy forewent the handshake, choosing to hug both Jess and Slim instead. Arms around each other and everyone talking at once, they stepped across the threshold and closed the door.

Jonesy shooed everyone towards the dining room table, hastily bringing out coffee and some donuts he had freshly baked. Slim and Jess dove into them as if they hadn't had a meal in a week. Jonesy pushed his bowler back on his head and stood with his hands on his hips, grinning from ear to ear. Then he turned and headed for the kitchen, intent on whipping up a meal to feed his hungry boys.

Jonesy outdid himself with the food he laid on the table. It looked like he'd anticipated their arrival because he had far more than he could have whipped up in such a jiffy. Andy couldn't contain himself, wanting to know everything which had happened since he'd left Braxton with Mort. Jess and Slim indulgently filled him in on all the goings on. Their conversation carried on well after dessert had been eaten and the dishes cleared away. It was later in the evening when things began to change.

Standing out by the corral, Jess and Slim both commented on how well Andy and Jonesy had handled everything while they were away. Looking over the milling horses, Jess commented. "I don't see Cyclone in the corral, Andy. You got him in the barn?"

Andy's face fell as he quietly answered. "No, he didn't come home." That was all he said as he turned to go back to the house. Jess laid his hand on Andy's shoulder. "I'm sorry . . .." Without turning around, Andy shook off Jess' hand.

Andy's voice was sad yet bitter. "You lied to me, Jess. You lied and said Cyclone would come home, but do you see him? No, you don't. He ain't here, Jess. He ain't here." With that Andy nearly ran towards the house.

Jess started after him, but Slim stopped him. "Let him go, Jess. It isn't your fault. You did what you thought best at the time. Maybe Andy needs to see losing Cyclone as part of his punishment for breaking the law. If he hadn't been on the run, he'd never have been put in the situation where he had to give up Cyclone in order to stay alive. He grew up on a ranch. Loss is a part of living."

"The boy needs his horse." Growled Jess. He stayed by the corral as Slim followed his younger brother. Jess didn't come into supper that evening and wasn't seen around the ranch, although Traveler remained in the corral.

Later that evening, Slim stepped out onto the porch to find Andy sitting in Jess' chair, staring out into the dark nothingness.

"You okay?" asked Slim quietly.

Andy looked up at his older brother, glad the darkness covered the tears in his eyes. Sensing Andy had something to tell him, Slim settled himself upon the porch railing, leaning against the upright post, and waited.

"I'm scared, Slim." Andy finally said so quietly Slim wasn't sure he had spoken. Then louder, Andy repeated. "I gotta turn myself in tomorrow. Mort's expecting me to come in as soon as you got home. I gave him my word. I gotta keep it. I'm glad you're home, but I'm scared. I'm scared of what's gonna happen tomorrow after I turn myself in." Slim thought he heard a catch in Andy's voice. The tears in Andy's voice were clearly evident as he continued on. "Oh God, I'm so sorry, Slim," Andy cried, flinging himself from the chair and against Slim's chest, barely comforted by his brother's supportive embrace and gentle hand upon his back. "I'm sorry for everything I done. I'm scared of what they'll do to me, how much time I'll have to serve. I don't wanna go, Slim. I know I gotta, but I'm just so scared." He was openly crying now, gulping air as he tried to breathe, contemplating the punishment awaiting him.

Slim held his brother in his arms, head bowed to meet Andy's, silently lending his own strength to that of his brother. He wished he could take Andy's place but knew that was impossible. Whatever Andy had done, he had done on his own. He could only be there with as much moral support as possible. He'd be at his brother's side through the trial and do whatever he needed to do to continue that support through Andy's incarceration. Things were going to be tough on his younger brother, but he would be there every step of the way, doing his best to make things easier if at all possible.

After a while, Andy's tears subsided and he stepped away from Slim's embrace, wiping his cheeks with his hands. His voice was now steady as he spoke. "Tonight's my last night at home for a while. I think I better turn in. I need to be up early in order to ride into town." He nodded to his brother and went into the house. Slim stared at the closed door for a few minutes, proud of his brother for pulling himself together, knowing that he faced the unknown come morning.

Breakfast the next morning was a somber affair. Andy pointedly ignored Jess' presence at the table, only addressing his comments and discussion towards either Jonesy or Slim. They dragged out their meal, delaying the moment when Andy would have to leave the ranch, possibly for a long, long time. Finally, there were no more ways to delay the inevitable. Gathering some clean clothes to take with him, Andy shook hands with Jonesy before following Slim out of the door where Jess awaited them with two saddled horses. Andy once again ignored Jess, not even acknowledging that he was there with them. "Come on Slim, I gotta go." He called to his brother, his back to Jess. He saw Slim walk over to Jess.

"You're not coming?" Slim asked.

"Naw." Returned Jess, brushing off the question like he didn't care. "This is a family time. You need to be together. I'd just be in the way," he said, turning to walk away.

"But you're family too," answered a perplexed Slim

Jess shook his head. "I told the boy his horse would come home, but he didn't. He thinks I lied to him. He's lost something precious to him and he isn't going to forget or forgive me for it. That boy needs his horse. You just go on now. Everything will be all right."

"Jess, you're not thinking of . . .."

He was cut off by Jess. "Just drop it Slim. This is the way it has to be."

Slim watched Jess walk away, his gut telling him trouble was brewing. But knowing Jess wouldn't reveal his thoughts until he was ready, Slim mounted his horse, signaling Andy to get a move on.

Andy was pale and visibly shaking as he and Slim stopped at the hitching rack in front of Mort's office. Slim had a moment of concern, afraid Andy would cut and run at the last minute. However, Andy took a deep breath, nodded at Slim and dismounted, casually securing his horse before proceeding into the Sheriff's office.

Mort looked up, smiling upon seeing who had entered his office. He stood, shaking hands with both Slim and Andy, then indicating for both of them to have a seat.

"I've come to turn myself in." stuttered Andy nervously. "I . . . I promised I'd come in as soon as Slim returned home. He came back last night." He looked around the small office, studiously avoiding glancing at the door separating the office from the jail cells. He swallowed convulsively, fighting the nausea building in his stomach. No matter what, this was going to be his home until his trial. He knew that no judge would grant him bail because he'd escaped once already. Only now was he realizing how that one desperate act could affect his whole life. Now he not only would be tried for the thefts, but also for breaking jail and possibly for assaulting Mort, even though he hadn't done so. But he'd been in the company of Abe and Terry when it happened and he could be charged as an accessary. The charges against him had begun to add up.

For a moment he regretted giving his word to turn himself in. He wanted to flee – just as far and fast as he could. Except for both Slim and Mort's calm presence, the only thing that kept him from bolting was remembering his experience on the owl hoot trail. The first time, he'd had Jess to guide him. Alone, he was pretty sure he wouldn't make it. He didn't care to go through any of that again. Unless he was sent to prison, staying in Mort's jail for the duration of his punishment was much preferable to being on the run alone. He didn't even want to contemplate what would happen if he got sent to prison. The very thought terrified him and he pushed it from his mind. Mort's words broke into his thoughts.

"Andy." Said Mort, standing up and picking up the jail cell keys, nodding towards the closed door. "It's time, son." He said softly.

Andy and Slim both stood up. Andy took one more look around the office before throwing himself into Slim's arms. "I'm sorry, Slim. I'm sorry I brought all this trouble on you." He looked up expectantly as he stepped back, attempting to pull himself together. "You . . . You'll come visit me?"

Slim smiled and patted Andy on the back. "Of course, I will," he said. "Jess will too."

Slim wasn't prepared for Andy's answer. "Tell him not to bother visiting me, I don't need him. You and Jonesy, that's all I need. I'll tell Mort I don't want to see Jess," said Andy coldly. "Tell him I don't want him at the trial either."

"But, Andy," replied the surprised Slim, "he's your friend."

"He ain't no friend of mine." Replied Andy as he stepped into the cell and waited for Mort to turn the key, locking him in. "He lied to me. I don't want to see him."

Because of Jess' statement at the house, Slim wasn't totally surprised by Andy's declaration. Regardless, it cut him to the quick to think Andy now despised the very person who had saved his life – not just once but twice – while out on the owl hoot trail. Slim knew he had an everlasting debt to Jess which he could never repay. If only he could get Andy to see past his loss and recognize that he too owed Jess a debt of gratitude. Reluctantly, he said goodbye to both Andy and Mort before taking his leave and heading back to the ranch.

Andy spent a fairly comfortable week in lockup before the Judge arrived for his trial. Slim had brought books for him to read. Jonesy had even driven the buckboard into town to deliver some meals and desserts to the jail, always including plenty for both Andy and Mort. Even though he had been in town several times, Jess honored Andy's directive and stayed away from the jail.

The morning of Andy's trial, Slim and Jonesy arrived early, bringing a fresh set of clothes for Andy to wear. He had just finished cleaning up when Mort quietly announced it was time to go. It was Slim who felt his stomach drop as Mort placed the handcuffs on a shaking Andy, but together, the Sheriff's hand gripping Andy's arm, they crossed the street and proceeded to the hotel where the trial was being held.

Andy hesitated at the entrance to the courtroom. It seemed like everyone from miles around had come to see his trial. It was standing room only. He swallowed the lump in his throat when he saw the front row was lined with all the merchants he had stolen from. In spite of himself, he searched the crowd for a familiar head of dark, unruly hair. Although he had still been angry over the loss of Cyclone when he told Jess not to come to his trial, he felt bereft not seeing the man who had become part of their family.

Andy felt relieved when Mort escorted him to the Defendant's table and removed the handcuffs. The metal hurt his wrists and reminded him of his time in the Braxton jail. He shuddered remembering his treatment by the Braxton Sheriff, thankful that although he was embarrassed to be on display in his own town, he was safe in the hands of Mort Cory and his deputy Lon. Andy was numb as the charges were read. As their lawyer had advised, Andy pled guilty, throwing himself on the mercy of the court and hoping his punishment wouldn't be too severe. He was surprised when a recess was announced followed by the judge calling the merchants and Mort into his chambers. Lon remained behind, taking the responsibility for watching over Andy. It felt like forever before everyone emerged to retake their seats in the courtroom. The judge settled himself into his chair, wrote a few things down before looking directly at Andy. His voice boomed as he announced.

"Andrew Sherman, stand and hear the pronouncement of your sentencing."

Slim automatically stood with Andy, one hand on Andy's shoulder, lending his strength. He could feel Andy shaking, trying to stay steady and accept his punishment. Andy took one more quick look around the courtroom, failing to see any sign of Jess. The judge shuffled his papers, keeping the courtroom on edge in anticipation of his announcement.

"Andrew Sherman." He began again. "You have plead guilty to Breaking and Entering, Unlawful Entry, Theft of money and/or valuables in excess of $100, Breaking out of Jail, and a series of other petty crimes." He paused for dramatic effect. "For each of these crimes individually, you shall be sentenced to imprisonment in the State Penitentiary for a minimum of one year and a maximum of five years, sentences to be run concurrently."

Andy felt his knees go weak and he found he was having trouble swallowing. He fought the tears threatening to spill down his cheeks. All his mind could hear was 'State Penitentiary' and 'five years.' He looked at Slim, terror and anguish in his eyes, seeing Slim's own torment over the punishment. The courtroom burst out into loud murmurs. Momentarily the judge banged his gavel, demanding silence. He waited until the crowd had quieted before he continued on.

"However, due to the intervention by the merchants of Laramie, your sentence is hereby commuted. For the next thirty days, you will work without pay at each merchant's establishment during their normal working hours until you have worked enough to compensate for the stolen items. Due to your outstanding family and personal history, the merchants themselves proposed this alternative punishment and have provided a schedule of who you will work for, how long you will have to work for them and how much is being repaid by your labor. When you are not working for any of the merchants, you will remain lodged in the Laramie jail under the supervision of Sheriff Mort Cory. Once you have completed your sentence, you will be released to return home with one provision. You will remain on probation for the length of six months. You will be released into the custody of one Slim Sherman and report to Sheriff Mort Cory on a weekly basis at a date and time as designated by him. As long as you follow the terms of your probation, report as directed and if no further incidents occur during that time, you will be free to live your life as you choose."

There was a loud murmur which ran through the crowd, causing the judge to bang his gavel again. He pointed the gavel at Andy, directing a steely eyed look in his direction, his voice sounding like thunder as he spoke again.

"Understand, young man, this is a highly unusual situation. You will not be allowed to leave the territory and your travel will be restricted to either the Sherman Ranch, the road to and from Laramie and the town of Laramie itself. You will not travel anywhere else without the express permission of Sheriff Mort Cory for the entire probation term. If you should ever feel these terms too restrictive, just remember you could still be confined to a shared 10 x 10 cell or working on the chain gang at the petitionary. Am I clear on that?"

"Yes . . Yes . . Yes, Sir." Stuttered a stunned, bewildered and thankful Andy.

"Court is adjourned." Shouted the judge.

Andy slumped to the chair as his knees gave out. He barely felt Slim's hand on his shoulder or Jonesy thumping congratulations on his back. Finally, he realized that several of the merchants were standing behind him. Slim indicated for him to stand and face the men. Andy held his hand out to each merchant, thanking them for giving him a chance to do right. All too soon, Mort placed the cuffs back on Andy and, a hand under Andy's arm, led him back to the jail.

In spite of convincing himself he was still angry at Jess, he once more looked around the crowded courtroom, but failed to see the man he sought. If he had looked a few seconds earlier, he would have seen Jess silently slip out the side door. Maybe Andy had declared he didn't want to see him, but Jess couldn't not be at the trial. He had to know Andy would be all right. There was something he needed to do, but he needed to know Andy wouldn't be sent to the penitentiary; he would serve his sentence ensconced in Mort's jail. He would be safe.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN – SERVING TIME

Things settled into a new routine at the ranch. Jess and Slim worked hard from sunup to sundown. Neither talked about Andy or the judge's sentencing. Slim was grateful for the merchants who were giving Andy a second chance. They didn't have to do that. They could have held out for Andy to be sentenced more harshly. Yet he worried. The ranch took almost all of his time. Even with Jess' help and encouragement, Slim only gave himself leave to visit Andy on Saturdays and Sundays. Saturdays, his time with Andy was limited to the few words they could exchange when Slim got supplies and Andy helped him load them. In the past, he and Jess had often gone in together, or traded turns, but now Jess remained behind, always finding an excuse for Slim to go on alone, allowing him some precious moments with his brother. On Sundays, after church, Slim spent as much time as he could with Andy at the jail. Once again, Jess found excuses to separate himself from Slim, returning to the ranch alone.

Slim was wearing himself out working hard at the ranch and worrying about Andy. He got little sleep and ate even less. Through it all he noticed how Jess had also begun to lose weight and had become more and more quiet during the day. Slim would catch Jess eyeing the horizon as if looking for something to appear, yet he never said a word about what was on his mind. It wasn't long before Jess' nightmares returned, disturbing the sleep of both men. Something was chewing at him; something big enough to cause the nightmares to return after being dormant for several years.

Slim had lost count of the nights Jess' nightmares had awoken him. Jess tossed and turned, muttering in his sleep, sometimes shouting something unintelligible – something about a boy and his horse. Slim watched and listened helplessly, trying to understand Jess' words and knowing there was nothing he could do to soothe the nightmares. Although sometimes talking to Jess calmed him, too many nights he was too deep into his nighttime terrors to hear either Slim or Jonesy's voices. They knew better than to try to touch or awaken Jess. Any attempt at that would be met with a violent reaction, a lesson they had learned the hard way. As difficult as it was, they had no options and could only wait until the terrors passed and Jess settled back into an exhausted sleep. In the morning, he would remember nothing of the nighttime disruptions.

As for Andy, he didn't know whether to resent or be thankful for his community service sentence. It was degrading to be handcuffed every morning and escorted, the Sheriff's hand gripping his arm, to his designated workplace. The people of Laramie stared after him. Children catcalled him, calling him jailbird and laughing. They threw clods of dirt at him, but one look from Mort quickly ended that activity. It seemed there was always a crowd around and he could hear them whispering as they watched his walk of shame. He hung his head, not wanting to meet anyone's eyes, allowing Mort or Lon to guide him. He still avoided any direct eye contact when the rules of his community service were recited, including what would happen should he decide to run, the handcuffs were removed, and he was officially turned over to the store owner for the day. When the store was ready to close, either Mort or Lon appeared. Andy was once more handcuffed and escorted back to the jail. The cuffs and Lawman's hand under his arm were subtle reminders that he was not a free man, this wasn't a friendly walk, and he had brought these consequences on himself. It was a routine that was repeated every day throughout his punishment.

The merchants were kind, but hard on him. In his opinion, he was assigned the lowest of low jobs – scrubbing floors, taking inventory, restocking shelves, all at the whim of the merchants he had stolen from. He was at their beck and call from the moment the stores opened until they closed for the evening. They had a never-ending list of things to do or go fetch or fix. Some sat him down with their books, showing him how little they earned over the cost of an item. He'd heard Slim talk about profit and loss, but it had held no real meaning to him until now. Except for lunch, he had no time to stop and rest. If he had thought ranching was hard, he felt nothing compared to being cooped up in a store for eight hours a day, doing the same duties over and over. Ranch living was hard, but at least he was out under the open sky, free to come and go as he pleased. Working for the merchants, if they ran out of things for him to do, he was assigned to start a task over again, to re-sort the items he had just sorted, to clear the shelves and replace all the items. He moved sacks of seeds from the back to the front of a store, only to move them again when the merchant re-arranged the store display or brought in new merchandise. If he inventoried the stores once, he did it a thousand times. Every time he wanted to voice a complaint, he reminded himself of what it felt like to be imprisoned, confined to a jail cell. If he didn't complete his community service, he would be sent to the penitentiary. There, he'd be locked in, sharing a cell with hardened criminals and put to work on the chain gang. The mere thought of being in leg irons was enough to make him swallow his pride and dig into whatever work he was assigned.

Evenings were the hardest on young Andy. His body ached from the daily work and he longed for someone to talk to – if only for a little while. He'd seen customers come and go all day. Naturally curious, they had wanted to ask questions of him, voice their relief at his alternative punishment, or just plain looking for something to gossip about. There were those who felt it necessary to berate him for his thefts, indicating he should have been sent to prison – that the merchants were too soft on him. But, as part of his punishment, he was not allowed to answer any of them. If spoken to, the merchants would step in, explain that he wasn't allowed to speak to anyone while he was working. He was then chastised for stopping his work and sent off to run an errand or redo a chore he'd already done at least once. Keeping his thoughts in check and only speaking to the merchants wore thin on him. He longed for a real conversation. Most often, whomever was assigned jail duty at night, was too busy with their work, not leaving them time to talk or even play a round of checkers. Andy was left to himself, to contemplate his wrongdoings and learn from his mistakes. He learned what it was like to be alone - and lonely. Once in a while he wondered if that was how Jess had felt all those years riding the trails alone. The sheer emptiness of being alone almost overwhelmed him, even though either Mort or Lon was on the other side of the jail door.

Andy knew he now carried the stigma of having been arrested, tried and sentenced for his wrong doings. He was still a minor, so the books would be closed once he completed his sentence. As far as the rest of the world was concerned, he would remain just another Laramie citizen. But the Laramie citizens knew and would remember his wrong doings. He wondered how long it would be before they no longer whispered behind his back or ignored him on the street. How long would it be before he could carry his head high again and look people in the eye? He worried his actions might have tarnished Slim's reputation, but that didn't seem to be the case. He couldn't help but wonder how Jess had handled every lawman knowing he was wanted, had been wanted and/or had served time. Even though Jess carried paperwork proving his innocence, there were plenty of times he'd been run out of a town based solely upon his past. They hadn't even bothered to hear his side of the story or give him a chance to prove his innocence. They judged him based upon rumor and the way he wore his gun. Knowing how Jess' past had dogged him, Andy was glad he would someday be able to put his past behind him.

Andy began to look forward to Sundays. Sundays were his only day off from working. The stores were closed but that left him confined to his cell for the entire day. While either Mort or Lon occupied the office, they were too busy to pay much mind to him other than caring for his basic needs. Slim was his only visitor and he looked forward to a real conversation, hearing about the ranch and the chance to play checkers or cards. The cell bars separating him and Slim were a subtle reminder that he was being punished for his misdeeds. By the time Slim arrived, Andy no longer felt compelled to complain about how the customers or merchants treated him. He was too happy to have company, especially Slim. Slim had been at his side the whole time. Slim had never chewed him out for his misdoings, only loved, guided, and supported him as a brother should do. Andy was learning to be thankful for a brother like Slim and had begun to understand the lessons Jess had tried to teach him out on the owl hoot trail. He hadn't appreciated them at the time, but his many nights of being alone had made him realize what he had been about to give up. He still missed seeing Jess but hadn't yet forgotten or forgiven the loss of Cyclone.

The thirty days of community service crawled by until the day of Andy's release dawned. Slim was at the jail at daylight, unable and unwilling to wait any longer than necessary to take his brother home. Mort offered him a cup of coffee, a knowing and indulgent smile crossing his face. He was greatly pleased to unlock Andy's cell for the final time. Andy rushed into Slim's arms, grateful for all the support his brother had given him and relieved that he now got to go home.

Mort indicated for them both to sit down while he finished the necessary paperwork and read Andy the terms of his probation. They decided that Slim's weekly trips to Laramie would be a good time for Andy to come in for his obligatory reporting to Mort. Mort would also take an occasional unannounced ride out to the ranch to make sure Andy was complying with the regulations and traveled no further than the ranch itself, the road to Laramie or the town of Laramie.

Andy groaned when Slim indicated he had a lot of work lined up to keep all of them busy. Although, after thirty days of being confined to a store or a jail cell, Andy looked forward to being outside. Maybe he wasn't allowed to travel far, but his new workspace contained no windows, bars, or doors. He could live with that. As soon as his six months were up, he'd be headed back to St. Louis to finish his schooling. He now understood how precious that opportunity had been and he was not about to squander it by messing up again.

Mort followed them out onto the boardwalk. Andy looked expectantly towards the saddled horses, disappointed that his palomino was not there. In his place stood a colorful chestnut with a full blaze. It was one of the nicer horses Jess had broken and they had kept at the ranch. Andy looked expectantly at Slim, only to have Slim give a sad shake of his head. Cyclone had not returned to the ranch. Disappointed, Andy mounted up and rode silently out of town beside Slim.

Once out on the road, Andy brightened up. He continuously looked around, taking in the sun and breeze and earthy smells that came to him. He pelted Slim with a thousand questions about the ranch, Jonesy and what had happened while he was away. They'd gone over this before, but it held new meaning to Andy as he was headed home. Home. It sounded so good to him. Today he'd be eating his meals with Slim and Jonesy. He even looked forward to Jonesy's mulligan stew. He conveniently blocked any thoughts of Jess out of his mind. When he thought of Jess, he thought of his last view of Cyclone and he just couldn't get past the hurt.

Andy could smell bacon frying as they got closer to the house. Knowing Jonesy would have gone all out for his homecoming, his mouth watered in anticipation of Jonesy's cooking. Jonesy greeted them at the door, smiling and shaking Andy's hand like he was greeting a long-lost friend. He ushered them into the house, indicating he'd have a meal on the table in a quick shake. As he brought multiple dishes to the dining room table, he continuously looked towards the door as if expecting someone. Frustrated with waiting he finally asked. "When's Jess coming in?"

Slim looked at him in confusion. "I don't know. Maybe he's still in the barn."

"Barn?" barked Jonesy. "Ain't he with you? Didn't he ride into town with ya to fetch Andy here?"

"Why, no," replied Slim. "Jess hasn't gone into town with me for quite a while. He said bringing Andy home was family and I couldn't convince him he was part of the family. He was adamant about staying behind."

Jonesy removed his bowler and scratched his head. "Well, I'll be dog-goned," he said. "I'd have sworn I saw Jess ride out this morning. I thought he was gonna catch up with you."

Slim's eyes got big as a sudden realization hit him. He turned and dashed into their shared bedroom. Frantically he pulled open the drawers to Jess' dresser. Every drawer was empty. Jess' things were gone. Without a word to anyone else, he ran to the barn but he already knew Jess' bedroll and trail belongings would also be gone. He stopped at the corral fence, pounding his hand on the top rail and looking off in the direction Jess had gazed at so often during Andy's community service.

"Jess is gone." He said woefully to Andy and Jonesy who had joined him at the corral. They both deluged him with questions as to why Jess had left. Slim shook his head, indicating he didn't know why Jess had gone. But deep inside he knew, and he now understood the jumbled words Jess had cried out during his nightmares. . . "The boy needs his horse." Jess had blamed himself for making Andy turn Cyclone loose. He had blamed himself when Cyclone hadn't returned home. He blamed himself for Andy's loss of his prized palomino. Jess had gone to find Cyclone.

THE END

*** Look for the Sequel*** Jess blames himself for Andy's loss of Cyclone and leaves the ranch in search of the missing horse. The journey is long with much befalling our hero. Jess is determined to own the horse once again and bring him home even if it means making a deal with the Devil himself