SEQUEL - LIES AND CONSEQUENCES

by Saddletramp

PART ONE ends with Andy blaming Jess for the loss of his beloved horse, Cyclone. causing Jess to leave the Sherman Ranch. THE SEQUEL continues from where PART ONE concluded. Jess is in search of Cyclone and Andy is completing his probation. Things never go as planned for the Sherman Household. It helps to have read Part One, but each story stands alone.

LIES AND CONSEQUENCES – SEQUEL

Synopsis: PART ONE ends with Andy displaying hatred towards Jess and blaming him for the loss of his beloved horse, Cyclone. Hurt by Andy's hatred and burdened with guilt, Jess has left the Sherman Ranch. PART TWO – THE SEQUEL continues from where PART ONE concluded. Jess is in search of Cyclone and Andy is completing his probation. Things never go as planned for the Sherman Household. It helps to have read PART ONE, but each story stands alone.

Editor's note: We don't know much about Andy's horse – Cyclone. In the episode Ride The Wild Wind, it was never clear whether Cyclone was a stallion or gelding. Since he was a youth's horse, I decided he would have to be a gelding. He was also a carrier of the "disappearing brand." In the beginning of the episode, he clearly carried the Circle S brand on his left hip, but by the end of the story, he no longer carried the brand. I kept the brand for the purposes of this story.

CHAPTER ONE – THE JOURNEY

Jess Harper stepped down from the saddle, letting the reins drop to ground tie his horse. He didn't want to be here – the death camp. The place where his troubles had all begun. He knew four men were buried here. Two of them were barely men – boys really, the oldest having just reached his twentieth birthday. It saddened him they had met such an unprovoked and untimely end to their lives. He liked to think they might have straightened out and left their lawless ways. But now, they would never have that chance. Even though it had only been little more than two months since the shootout, there remained no sign of the graves nor any marker which might have been erected for them. Somehow, he found it necessary to remove his hat in respect for those who had died – two by his hand and two by those he had killed. It had been a senseless killing of the two boys who had broken Andy Sherman out of jail, but the killing of the two outlaws parading as deputies had been solely on his own head. He could justify it any way he wanted – they were actually killers, they were wanted dead or alive – even though he didn't know that at the time, they had killed Abe and Terry in cold blood, they had tried to kill Andy and had been bent on killing him. He regretted the killings, nonetheless. He'd thought he'd left that life behind him. He no longer lived by the gun he wore. He'd begun to settle down at the Sherman Ranch and enjoyed the stable lifestyle he'd been welcomed into.

He sighed a silent sigh, mourning the world he had left behind. It had been his fault Andy had lost his prize horse, Cyclone. He was the one who had made Andy turn the palomino loose. He'd done it with good intentions – to protect Andy from harm while they were on the run. If only Andy had gone home when given the opportunity. He'd been able to keep his precious horse but it meant he'd have to turn himself in to the law and take his punishment – whatever that may entail. But Andy had chosen to stay with him as he ran from having to kill two deputies. It would be much later that anyone would learn it had all been for nothing because the "deputies" were actually outlaws wanted by the law themselves. Jess shook his head, deep in thought. It had been his own desire for self-preservation which had caused him to run. It was then Andy had decided to go with him instead of returning to Laramie for his own punishment. Jess just couldn't get it through Andy's head there was a difference in their situations. Andy had only been wanted for some petty crimes in Laramie. Andy would be safe in Laramie's jail with Mort Cory and would probably only serve a minimal jail sentence or community service. But Jess had killed two deputies from another county and, no matter what he said, no one would have believed he had killed in self-defense. And, even though Andy had witnessed everything, his new-found habit of lying would discount any testimony he could have given on Jess's behalf. Jess knew he was looking at a rope if he turned himself in, was caught by a lawman or bounty hunter, so he chose to run. He hadn't counted on Andy following him. Andy was too excited over the prospect of an adventure on the owl hoot trail to understand their constant peril.

Since the day Jess had set foot on the ranch, Andy had idolized his former lifestyle, imagining all sort of exciting adventures. Although Jess had dissuaded Andy's excitement and never really said anything about his past life, Andy had created a world where the outlaw life was one grand adventure. Jess hadn't liked being tough on the boy, but it was toughen up or go back home and face his punishment. Andy was still seeking adventure, not understanding how his naivety endangered his very life. If he had had his way, he'd have traveled into a town, not understanding there might be wanted posters out and people didn't think twice about turning someone in for the reward. He wanted to be a friend to everyone, unconsciously setting himself up for robbery or worse from those less scrupulous than himself. Always the protector, Jess had successfully kept him away from those situations by graphically explaining the kind of trouble the boy would invite if he wasn't careful. It had taken a while before Andy understood being on the owl hoot trail was no exciting adventure. Long days in the saddle, the blazing sun during the day and freezing cold at night coupled with sleeping on the hard ground, rotating guard shifts and lack of food soon took the luster off his view of the outlaw lifestyle. He'd never dreamed it would be like this. Eventually, Andy tired of the owl hoot trail. Lying to himself and Jess, he said he realized how he'd been wrong in what he'd done over the summer and vowed to return to Laramie. Jess had agreed to the plan. They had been on the trail home when Andy's accident occurred. Faced with no choice when it came to Andy's safety, Jess had taken him to a doctor in the closest town. That was the beginning of an odyssey which nearly killed Jess and brought home to Andy that not all lawmen were trustworthy nor scrupulous.

Jess looked around him now. Other than the lonely graves, not much of the rest of the one-time campsite had changed. Although dust covered, his empty shell casings still lay where he had discarded them. He reflected on how it had been a waste because he normally reloaded his shells. But that time, there hadn't been time to even think about repurposing them because their safety and subsequent escape had taken precedence over everything else.

Jess rubbed his shoulder, rueful over the Braxton Sheriff shooting him in the back. It had nearly killed him. It had been a cowardly act, but one the Sheriff was noted for. At first, he had blamed Slim and Mort for setting him up. But as the truth came out, he knew the man who had taken him in and called him partner, along with the Laramie Sheriff, would never have betrayed him in that way.

Jess continued to walk around the camp, reliving where everyone had been and what had transpired. Finally, he found himself where the horses had been tied. Time had erased any trace of them having been here. Here is where he'd made Andy turn Cyclone loose, saying the horse would find his way home. Only there was no sign of Cyclone upon their return nor even a month later when Andy had completed his community service. Andy was understandably upset over losing his horse and completely blamed Jess for his loss. He had banned Jess from visiting him in jail and from attending his trial. He'd regretted his rash decision, but found whenever he thought of Cyclone, his anger at Jess came back in full force. He just couldn't forgive Jess for being wrong about the horse returning home.

Although Jess had originally trained Cyclone, it was Andy who had claimed the palomino, bonding with him and teaching him tricks. Yet Cyclone never totally lost his wild ways. He chased, kicked and attacked other horses, broke down fences and created so much havoc at the ranch that Slim had more than once threatened to sell him. But on that fateful day, Jess had been sure Cyclone would return home. Now he wondered whether Cyclone had rejoined the wild herds that roamed the area. It was his own guilt coupled with Andy's hostility towards him that had caused Jess to leave the ranch in search of the missing mustang.

Returning to Traveler, Jess mounted and headed in the direction Cyclone had run when set free. Although there was nothing to guide him, Jess hoped he'd run across the tracks of Cyclone's tell-tale barred shoe and be able to find him. Although, he considered that after two months, the horse could have thrown one or more shoes and there would be nothing with which to distinguish Cyclone's track from any other horse.

Jess crisscrossed the terrain for days on end. Here and there his path crossed that of horse herds, but none contained the golden horse with white mane and tail.

Now well over a month of searching for Cyclone, Jess had almost given up finding Andy's horse. In defeat, he contemplated which was worse – returning home empty handed, or never going home again. Damn Slim, he thought. Damn those stakes that had been driven deep, calling him back to a sanctuary he could no longer inhabit. Perhaps it was kinder for him to never return. At least this way, he'd only have to live with his own guilt, not the disappointment and continued hatred from the boy who had wormed his way into his heart. He knew he couldn't face a lifetime of Andy's unforgiveness. Without his presence as a constant reminder, Andy would eventually learn to move on, putting the loss of his beloved mount in the past where it belonged. Decision made, Jess turned Traveler west and began his solitary trek to leave the Sherman Ranch and his newly acquired family behind him.

CHAPTER TWO

Andy dipped his brush in the whitewash one more time and took a halfhearted swipe across the barn exterior.

"Watch what you're doing, Andy." Chastised Slim laughingly as he jumped out of the way of Andy's errant paint brush. "The whitewash goes on the barn – not me!" Slim studied his younger brother's lackluster attitude for a moment. "So, what's eating you now?" he asked in concern.

Andy sighed and dropped his brush into the bucket. "Everything." Was his one-word answer. He picked at the pebbles in the dirt beside him before looking searchingly at Slim and then back down at the ground. "Everything's gone wrong." He repeated forlornly, tossing individual pebbles randomly. "Jess is gone. Cyclone is gone." He looked around him at the corral and buildings and sighed again. There was a distinctive bitterness in his voice as he spoke. "I'm stuck here for eternity. I want to go somewhere besides Laramie. I want to do something. It's getting to be more than I can bare being stuck here every day, knowing I can't leave; can't have any fun."

Slim set his own brush into the bucket. Pushing is hat back off his forehead, he studied Andy for a moment. In the months since Andy had completed his community service, Andy had grown more combative and disobedient with each passing day. It seemed that lately, no matter what he said, it set Andy off. Finally, sitting down too, he began.

"It isn't for forever, Andy." He said, choosing his words carefully. "You've only got a few more weeks before your probation is over." He reached out a hand to his brother's shoulder, attempting a try at being supportive, only to have Andy shrug off his effort. He didn't care for the look in Andy's eyes, yet held his tongue. He knew that there was fine line between his words being taken as supportive or as condemnation. Andy could "fall" either way. If Slim pushed too hard or was too stern or even not stern enough, Andy could easily turn away from the way of life in which he'd been raised. Slim had seen a hardness develop as Andy served his probation; and it scared him to think his brother might turn his back on his upbringing.

But he couldn't tell whether Andy was feeling guilty over his past indiscretions or was truly not sorry for what he'd done, merely tolerating his punishment until such time as he would be free of the law's jurisdiction and could go where he pleased. Slim hoped it was the former but feared it was the later. Andy was becoming more and more distant and disrespectful as he came closer to the end of his probation.

"You do know these chores aren't any additional punishment – right?" questioned Slim. "Andy, you know this is a living, working ranch and there were things that have to be done – like cleaning harnesses, putting up hay." He swept an arm towards the barn. "And whitewashing the buildings. It's all things that need to be done. Winter will be on us in no time."

Andy shrugged, once again looking his brother in the eyes, his unbridled anger clearly visible. "I hate it, Slim. I hate every part of making this ranch work." He jumped to his feet, unsure in which direction he wanted to flee. "I don't care if everything goes to hell. I want no part of it." He was standing with his back to Slim, his arms crossed. "I hate this ranch. I hate having lost Cyclone and I hate Jess. He ain't out looking for Cyclone any more than you or I are. He ain't comin' back. I don't care if he never comes back!"

"Andy!" exclaimed Slim. "Do you really value a horse over a man's life? A man who has been your best friend since the first day he set foot on this ranch?"

Andy swung back around to face Slim. There was no denying the anger emanating from his body. "He ain't no friend of mine no more. He lost me my horse! Don't try to defend him, Slim. I won't tolerate it none."

"I hope Jess never hears you utter those words," said Slim sadly. "Don't you think you've hurt him enough as it is? You made it clear you blamed him for losing Cyclone. You banned him from visiting you in jail and from even attending your trial or seeing you while you did your community service. You hurt him, Andy, deeply, and in the one place Jess can be hurt – his heart." Slim didn't know if his words would get through to Andy. "It's because he loved you that he wanted to make it right and left to find Cyclone."

Andy's hands were balled into fists as he yelled at Slim in response. "All you do is lecture me about Jess! Jess this. Jess that." He pointed his finger at Slim. "I don't give a fig about Jess. He lost me my horse. He made me turn him loose. He said Cyclone'd come home but he didn't." Andy's body was tense, his fists opening and closing in frustration, wanting to launch himself at his brother. "I hate him. I should never have listened to him. None of this would have happened if he'd just let me ride Cyclone instead of turning hm loose. I hate Jess and I don't care who knows it."

"You hate him? It's his fault?" Slim declared in frustration. "Andy, are you listening to yourself? None of this would have happened if you hadn't been part of a gang that broke into the mercantile stores, stole who knows all what, lied to everyone, and were involved in shooting Mr. Jonas and injuring Mort Cory – oh ya – broke out of jail and went on the run." Slim was losing his temper and it was beginning to show. "Whose fault is all of that, Andy? Jess certainly had nothing to do with it. You're darned lucky he found you when he did. Otherwise, there would be five graves out there at that campsite instead of four."

Slim couldn't help himself. Just thinking of the shootout at the campsite made him sick to his stomach. Without Jess, he certainly would have lost his younger brother. He couldn't understand Andy's continued defiance.

Andy's voice was threatening, defensive and his body rigid. "Maybe it would have been better if he'd never found me! At least then I couldn't be constantly reminded of what I done every time I turned around. When you ever gonna let me forget it? I did my community service. I spent my month in jail and now I'm stuck back here in the middle of nowhere. I can't wait until my time is up. I was gonna go back to school, but now I'm not. I'm leaving, Slim, just as soon as my probation is over, I'm leaving so I don't have to listen to you lecture me anymore. I'm leaving for good and you can't stop me. You'll never have to worry about me again!" He turned and stalked away.

Slim reached out to him, only to draw his hand back. He'd thought Andy had turned himself around after his experience in Braxton. He'd ridden home with Mort and taken over the running of the relay station so he could stay behind and search for Jess. It was Andy who had begged Slim to bring Jess home. It was Andy who had proposed the solution allowing Slim to find his partner. Andy had handled the responsibility marvelously in Slim's absence. Was this really the same brother he had held in his arms, who begged for forgiveness for the things he'd done wrong? Was this the same Andy who had manned up, turning himself in to Laramie's Sheriff and accepting his punishment? Was it only a short time ago he and Jess had returned home to a jubilant reception? Slim shook his head. It seemed that the morning Andy turned himself in was the day the crack in his demeanor had begun to show.

Although Andy had honored his word to Mort Cory and turned himself in, Andy had banned Jess from visiting him in jail and even attending his trail. He knew how cruelly it would affect Jess, yet he did it all the same. He had served his month doing community service coupled with jail time without complaint. No one knew, behind the closed doors between the Sheriff's office and the jail cells, that Andy seethed with anger over how his life was playing out. He blamed Jess for the Braxton Sheriff getting his hands on him. Andy still painfully remembered being slammed against the wall and knocked to the floor where he was handcuffed with his hands behind his back. Then how the Braxton Sheriff had body slammed him into the iron bars at the jail and thrown him, still handcuffed, into the cell where he had fallen, unable to protect himself. The experience had terrified him and he still woke up at night soaked in sweat, shaking at the memory he couldn't forget. Jess should have protected him – but he hadn't. It didn't matter that Jess lay near death in the doctor's adjoining room, himself handcuffed to the bed when the Braxton Sheriff had perpetrated his assault upon Andy.

He felt he'd lost everything and blamed everyone but himself for his predicament. He hated the community service he'd been sentenced with. He only tolerated it because it kept him from serving five years in the penitentiary; the multiple crimes he and his cronies had committed, when added together, had him looking at a stiff prison sentence. He'd hated the daily routine where he'd been handcuffed and walked across the street to whatever store he'd had to work at. Every day he was reminded of the Judge's sentence and the penalty for failing his probation – that if he ran, he'd be hunted down and when caught, he'd be shipped off to prison to fulfill the remainder of his sentence. He was only unfettered during his working hours, yet under constant watch of the merchants. When the store closed, he was once again handcuffed and escorted back to the jail. There was no time when he wasn't under constant supervision or locked in his cell. He'd hated the mundane and repetitive chores that were part of working off his debt to the merchants. He hated being mocked by children half his age.

He'd even fooled Slim on his Sunday visits, never letting on how much he hated the month he spent in jail. He knew he'd have to wait out the six months of probation before he could take off. He wasn't a fool after all – he wanted to be free and clear of the law. He'd learned a rough lesson about what it was like on the owl hoot trail and wanted no part of it ever again. So, he bided his time, hiding the anger that was growing within him.

It was only after he was back on the ranch to wait out his probation that he'd become sullen and disagreeable over almost everything. Although cleverly hidden, sometimes the deep anger brewing within Andy erupted, causing a rift between the two brothers. It seemed that everything in Andy's life caused him additional anger. Slim feared Andy wouldn't honor the probation's terms by remaining at the ranch. If Andy didn't finish out his probation, his sentence would revert to the original one to five years in the penitentiary. The very thought of Andy serving time in prison brought great anguish to Slim; so much so that he couldn't sleep at night, and was beginning to develop stomach and other health problems. Even Jonesy's syrups and potions didn't help. The doctor could do nothing but watch as Slim's health declined. With winter coming on, Slim feared the idea of being confined in the cabin for a few months might be the last straw as far as Andy completing his sentence. He knew Andy would leave at the first sign of the weather breaking. Sadly, Slim turned away and picked up his paintbrush again. He feared he had lost Andy. Whatever influence Abe and Terry had held over him was still there. He wondered where he had gone wrong. Even Jonesy, with all his wisdom, couldn't heal the rift between the brothers.

CHAPTER THREE

Jess pulled Traveler to a halt at the edge of a small stream. Stepping down, he allowed his horse to drink his fill while he, himself, dropped prone to the ground and indulged in the cool water until his thirst was satisfied. Standing, he stretched to relieve his tired muscles while he viewed his surroundings. It was a nice area with grass for Traveler and the potential for some good game for himself. He smiled in approval. He would camp here for a day or two. Both he and Traveler could use the rest. He had nowhere to go and nothing to do when he got there. He checked his wallet, counting a mere twenty dollars resting there. If he found a town, he'd have to be careful how he spent his money. The twenty dollars wouldn't stretch far and he had no idea how long he would have to make it last. Then again, if he did find a town, he might be able to sit in on a game or two of poker and add to his diminished funds. The thought of a shot of whiskey and a few hands of poker pleased him greatly. Maybe, when he tired of camping by the stream, he'd drift on in to town and see how things played out.

Leaving Traveler behind at his new campsite, Jess took his rifle and went in search of game with which to feed himself. He moved swiftly and quietly through the thicket surrounding the stream near where he'd camped. He paused when he thought he saw movement ahead of him. He slowed his pace, eventually dropping to his belly, bringing his rifle to his shoulder, prepared to shoot whatever wild game exposed itself. He waited with baited breath until he was sure of his target. The rustling increased, yet he couldn't get a visual, so he waited in anticipation, hoping for either a deer or even a wild turkey. Either would provide him meat for days and satisfy his hunger.

He lifted his head when the rustling stopped, confused at the sounds he now heard. There had been a dull thud and now what sounded like someone moaning in pain. Jess listened with practiced ears, still unable to ascertain what was making the noises he heard. Finally, all he heard was an occasional low moaning. Jess got to his feet, caution filtering through every fiber of his being as he slowly approached the unknown. He could be approaching a wild animal or an injured human – either of which could cause him harm if he wasn't cautious.

Parting the thicket, he gasped at the scene before him. Andy's horse, barely recognizable, lay prone on the ground. The palomino's eyes were sunken; the mud covering his body barely hid his protruding bones. His mane and tale were a mass of tangles and burrs. His hide was scarred by bites and hoofprints from where stallions had chased him away from their herds. But what sickened Jess the most were the open and infected sores along the gelding's shoulders and sides – he'd been raked by some vicious spur rowels. The horse was in great distress as it lay upon the ground and moaned. Jess ran his hands over Cyclone, knowing in his heart there was only one thing to do – he had to put Cyclone out of his misery.

Laying his rifle aside, Jess pulled his revolver from its holster. Drawing the hammer back, he took aim, knowing his well-placed bullet would end the horse's suffering instantaneously. Stepping closer in order to get the right angle, Jess found his vision blurry. He rubbed his eyes against his sleeve and took aim again. It was then that Cyclone opened his eye and looked directly at Jess, nickering a low, weak nicker of recognition. Jess dropped his arm to his side. He couldn't bring himself to do it. He couldn't put an end to Andy's horse. He didn't know how, but he was going to try saving the critter.

Holstering his gun and taking a deep breath, Jess began to re-examine the gelding and determine a course of action. Cyclone seemed to take strength from Jess' presence, lifting his head and with a bit of effort rolled himself onto his stomach. It was a good sign. It meant Cyclone still wanted to live. Jess watched as the gelding extended his front legs and lurched onto his feet. Head hung down to the ground, Cyclone breathed heavily as he stood on three legs, keeping the weight off of his right front hoof.

Examining the favored leg, Jess could feel nothing he got to the hoof itself. The hoof was cracked and broken but it was the stone wedged there causing the problem. Using his knife, Jess worked the stone loose, resulting in a large sigh of relief from the gelding. He still wouldn't put his foot down, but Jess figured it was badly bruised and would require a few days to heal. As soon as Cyclone could stand on all four feet, Jess would use his hoof knife and rasp to trim and shape the horse's hooves. Over the months he'd been loose, Cyclone had lost all four shoes, resulting in his feet being in terrible shape. His white hooves had always been a problem. They were softer than dark hooves and more subject to breaking and other injury, which is why he'd always been shod since they'd begun riding him. Running loose without shoes had done him no favors.

Little by little, Jess was able to coax Cyclone to limp back to his campsite. The subject of Cyclone's prior antics while in the relay corral, Traveler flattened his ears at the intrusion, establishing himself as the alpha horse. Cyclone meekly accepted his new position within the "herd". Cyclone quickly dropped his head and began eating. Jess smiled – at least the horse still had his appetite. That was good and there was enough grass for both horses. He began to think Andy's horse would survive.

Jess got to work cleaning the mud and burrs from Cyclone. Once he had noted all of the cuts and sores, he set about fashioning poultices to draw out the infections. He talked soothingly to both horses as he worked. His voice was soft and soothing, but knowing the horses couldn't understand him, his words and thoughts were less than charitable. Someone had tried riding Cyclone, but for some reason had felt it necessary to use a quirt and pointed rowels on him. Saddle galls from an ill-fitting saddle had scabbed over and then broken. There were scars on Cyclone's pasterns from where he'd been roped and thrown to the ground. Jess hoped he never came across the person who had done this to the gelding, because there would be hell to pay for mistreating the animal.

Day after day, week after week, Jess' skilled hands cared for the injured Cyclone. And day after day, week after week, he could see improvement in the gelding's body and coat. The open sores had begun to heal and the limp was almost gone. Jess figured in another week he'd be able to set out for home. He smiled at the thought. He'd found Cyclone and could now return to the one place he longed to be. Andy would forgive him and things would settle back into their normal routine. The idea pleased him greatly. He would get to go home after all.

Jess lost track of how long it had been since he'd found Cyclone. Under his loving care, the gelding had recovered most of his weight and his coat once more shone brightly. Jess had tended to his hooves and the gelding now moved around freely, with no sign of his former limp. Jess couldn't do anything about the scars that remained; Andy would just have to learn to live with them. But Jess was confident the scars wouldn't matter because Andy loved Cyclone and would be happy to have him back.

The day came when Jess decided it was time to take Cyclone home. The horse had healed well and was fit to travel. He didn't intend to travel fast, considering an easy walk or trot fast enough to get them home in a reasonable time. He'd traveled a fair amount of miles from Laramie and it would take a week or more to return home. Jess didn't have a halter, and figured Cyclone would follow Traveler without one, but slipped the lariat over Cyclone's head anyway. As he had figured, Cyclone trailed beside Traveler, the rope loose between the two horses. It was a bright morning and Jess was excited to be heading home.

They'd been traveling for a few hours when Jess noticed some riders headed his way. Ever cautious, he slipped the thong from his colt's hammer and loosened it within the holster. He was out in the open with nowhere to run, turn, or hide, so was forced to continue on his current path as the riders rode straight for him, rifles in hand. Six men, rifles leveled, surrounded him as he pulled Traveler to a halt. Outnumbered, Jess knew better than to start something, raising his hands in surrender. He waited, watching them, easily picking out the leader of the group.

The man was tall and lean, his face clean except for the oversized mustache covering his upper lip. He wore western chinks over his denims, but Jess' eyes locked on the silver spurs with the long, pointed rowels fastened to the man's boots. Looking over the man more closely, Jess noticed the leather quirt hanging from his wrist. He had found the man responsible for Cyclone's wounds. The man' eyes were narrowed beneath his hat. He spit tobacco juice before speaking.

"You got my horse there." He said motioning to Cyclone. "I lost him a couple months back when he broke free. I want him back."

Jess shook his head. "You got it all wrong there, mister." He said addressing the man before him. "This here horse belongs to Andy Sherman of the Sherman Ranch and Relay in Laramie. That's the Sherman brand on his hip."

"Don't care." Replied the man, spitting tobacco juice again. "I got me a bill of sale for him. He's mine and that makes you a horse thief." He motioned to his men as they closed in around Jess, one of them taking Cyclone's rope from him at gunpoint. "Around here, we hang horse thieves." Jess felt a cold chill run down his spine as he gauged the odds of him escaping without being killed.

"Boss, wait" called one of the men, riding closer and eyeing Jess up and down. "Don't hang him. I seen a WANTED poster on him just the other day. He's wanted for killing two deputies over Braxton way. There's a reward for his capture – but only if he's alive."

The man spat juice again, eyeing Jess with renewed interest. "That so?" he asked. "You wanted by the law?"

"I ain't wanted nowhere." Stated Jess, forgetting that if these men had their way, he'd be swinging from a noose in just a few minutes. Being turned in to the law sounded infinitely better but he'd already spoken.

"Liar" intoned the leader, motioning with the wave of his hand.

Jess found multiple hands pulling him to the ground. Once on solid footing, he sprang into action, his fists flying as he fought to be free of the men surrounding him. They were too many for him as someone grabbed his arms and another took the opportunity to ram a fist into his stomach, knocking the wind from his lungs. This was followed by a deft blow to his skull which dropped him to the ground. Temporarily disabled, they relieved him of his gun and tied his hands, looping the rope around him so his arms were pinned to his sides. While one man held a gun against him, another went through his pockets, removing his wallet. Rummaging through Jess' wallet, he took the last of Jess' money, before he pulled out the identification papers and pardon he carried with him. "Put that back." Growled Jess from his position still on the ground. Laughing, the man tore the paper to pieces, throwing them up into the air and letting them fall where they may. Still struggling, Jess was jerked up from the ground and unceremoniously shoved back aboard Traveler, his hands now tied to the saddle horn. He watched helplessly as some of the men rode off with Cyclone while the leader caught up Traveler's reins and began leading him away.

CHAPTER FOUR

Several sets of eyes watched but there was hardly anyone around to see the prisoner being led down Sharpton's Main Street and dragged off his horse in front of the Sheriff's office. He was shoved through the doorway so forcefully that he fell. Jess threw his hands in front of himself to break the fall, only to have them jerked out from under him by the man holding the other end of the rope. He hit the floor hard, landing on his shoulder. He tried to regain his feet, only to be jerked off balance again

Jess glared at his captor, seething inside for the wrong that'd been done to him as he stared down the barrel of the gun being held on him. The man grabbed his collar and he was jerked to his feet as the Sheriff looked on in surprise. He grinned wickedly as he shoved Jess into a chair, quickly tying off the rope, so Jess was bound tightly, thus securing his uncooperative prisoner.

"What the Hell you playing at, Rhoades?" the Sheriff questioned as he stood up, noting Jess' black eye and facial bruises.

"Got me a horse thief." Replied the man called Rhoades. "He didn't seem to want to cooperate, so we kind of had to convince him to accompany us to your office. Trevor tells me he's also wanted for murder of some deputies up Braxton way and there's a sizeable reward for his capture."

The Sheriff looked back and forth between Rhoades and Jess. "I'm Bret Travis." He introduced himself. "What's your name?" he inquired.

"Harper, Jess Harper," Jess growled in a low and threatening voice. "and I ain't wanted no where's for nothing. And, that horse he says I stole belongs to my boss – Slim Sherman of the Sherman Ranch and Relay in Laramie." Jess answered forcefully, his eyes dark with rage.

Rhoades laughed. "I got me a bill of sale for that horse." He said, waving a piece of paper in the air.

"If that paper's for real, then you bought him from a thief!" thundered Jess. "That's the Sherman Ranch brand on that palomino." He struggled against the ropes, only to feel Rhoades' gun against his neck.

The Sheriff looked at Rhoades. "Palomino?" he echoed. "Thunder? That horse no one can ride and been using as a bronc at the rodeos?"

Rhoades nodded. "The same."

Jess almost came unglued, his anger dangerously close to being out of control as he struggled against the ropes in an attempt to get at Rhoades. His struggle was ended when Rhoades laid his gun against the side of his head. Rhoades laughed at his now limp captive.

As Jess regained consciousness, he could hear the Sheriff chastising Rhoades for abusing his prisoner. The Sheriff was angry but Rhoades just laughed it off.

As Jess raised his head, he tried to shake off the pounding within his brain. It was the Sheriff who took control of the conversation.

"Do you have a bill of sale for this" he searched for the word "this horse you claim belongs to the Sherman Ranch? Do you have any identification which will prove to me that you even work for said ranch?"

Jess looked at him in shock. "A man usually takes another man at his word. Cyclone was a two-year-old when we cut him out of the wild herd he ran with. We branded him with the Circle S – the Sherman brand. I broke him and for the last two years he's been my partner's brother's mount."

Rhoades jumped into the conversation. "Partner? Did you say partner?" He laughed, trying to get the Sheriff to join him in mocking Jess. "You're a liar. You can't even keep your stories straight. When we caught up with you, you said that horse belonged to your boss. Which is it? You work for this Sherman or you're his partner?"

"I'm part owner of the Sherman Ranch and Relay. I was made a partner a while ago."

Once again the Sheriff asked "You got any paper proving what you say?" Knowing all of his paperwork had been destroyed, Jess hesitated. Seeing Jess' hesitation, Bret waited barely a moment before continuing. "No, I didn't think so. You can't prove a single claim regarding ownership of the horse." He stood up, indicating the discussion was over. "Rhoades says he's bought that horse. That horse ain't never been broke. He's thrown and maimed so many of Rhoades' staff that they quit trying to break him and put him in the rodeo as a bronc. He got loose again the other day but the boys brought him back a little bit ago. Ya, the horse carries the Circle S brand, but Rhoades has a bill of sale for him." He shrugged his shoulders. "I'm sorry, but without any identification or proof on your part, I've gotta accept Rhoades' version of the story." He stood up and walked back behind his desk. After fumbling through some paperwork, he found the WANTED poster on Jess. "Jess Harper, I'm holding you here on the basis of the WANTED poster until such time as a US Marshall can come to collect you." He looked at Rhoades. "You pressing charges for theft?" he asked.

Rhoades got a crooked grin on his face. "Naw, but I'll expect to collect that reward for turning him in. I figure if he's wanted for murdering two lawmen, he ain't gonna live long anyways. I'm satisfied he's gonna hang either way."

The Sheriff nodded his head. "That's fine. I'll let you know when the money arrives. I'll take him from here." He said, waving his hand for Rhoades to exit his office.

Rhoades stopped at the open door and turned back. Looking at Jess he grinned another crooked grin. "I'll be here to watch them haul you away, boy. It'll make me plum happy to see you behind the bars of that ole Tumbleweed Wagon." He laughed then, an ugly laugh that sent chills down Jess' spine. "Sorry, I won't get to see you hang for them there murders, but I'll be right pleased knowing its gonna happen." He started to leave again, only to turn back. Pointing a finger at the Sheriff, he began. "Now, you watch out for this fella. He's meaner than a rattler. Took four of my men to take him down." He lifted and resettled his hat upon his head. "I'm warnin' ya Sheriff, you'd best be watching him close." Rhoades laughed again before exiting, closing the door behind him.

After Rhoades had left, Sheriff Travis studied the WANTED poster carefully. Setting it down upon the desk, Jess and the Sheriff eyed each other for a few moments. Picking up the cell keys, Bret released Jess from the chair but did not free his hands. Keys in one hand and his gun in the other, the Sheriff indicated for Jess to enter the back room of the jail and step into a cell. Jess' blood ran cold as he heard the metal key scrape against the lock. As Bret undid the rope binding Jess' hands, he spoke.

"It don't look good for you, boy." He said gently, as he shook his head. "I'm almost sorry you can't prove that horse is yours. Rhoades is an ornery cuss. Beats his horses and uses those damn spurs on them. He thinks force is the only way to ride them. But, you got no proof and he's got a bill of sale." He shook his head again. "Too bad about that WANTED poster."

Jess cut him off. "Look, Sheriff, I ain't wanted on no charges. I been cleared of everything. I was even pardoned for the one I was falsely convicted of."

"You got proof? A pardon maybe?"

Jess shook his head no. "Rhoades' men tore up my papers." Suddenly Jess brightened. "You could telegraph Mort Cory, the Laramie Sheriff. He'll vouch for me. Or even Slim Sherman. He's my partner and owns that Palomino. Either of them can clear me."

The Sheriff eyed Jess speculatively. "I could do that, but they better answer quick. Poster says to notify the Feds as soon as you're in custody. It'll only take a few days for them to send a Marshall to collect you. Once you've been turned over to them, it's out of my hands." He turned then and exited, closing the door between the jail cells and the office. Jess stared at the closed door, hopeful the Sheriff was a man of his word and he'd send the telegrams.

The next afternoon, the Sheriff came to Jess' cell, a frown upon his face.

"I thought you said Sherman could clear you." The lawman accused Jess.

Jess rose from the cot and came over toward the Sheriff, wrapping his hands around the cell door bars. "Ya, I'm Slim Sherman's partner. The ranch owns the palomino Rhoades says he has that bill of sale for. I can tell you that horse was never sold to no one."

"That's not what this telegram says." Bret's words caught Jess off guard.

"What?" he nearly shouted, his hands tightening against the bars.

"It's short and sweet – just two words - Harper unknown." The Sheriff looked up. "And it's signed as – A. Sherman, Owner, Sherman Ranch – not S or Slim Sherman." He shook his head as he folded the paper and tucked it into his pocket. "You lied to me, son. You ain't no partner in the Sherman Ranch. There ain't no "S" Sherman. I probably won't get nothing from your Sheriff Cory either. He probably doesn't even exist." He turned away, closing the door behind him as he entered his office. Jess' temper got the better of him and he rattled the cell door and yelled until he was hoarse.

Sinking down onto the jail cot, Jess ran a hand through his dark hair. He was beside himself, trying to understand why Slim had denied his very existence. Then the words the Sheriff had said penetrated his furious mind. Slim hadn't sent the telegram. Andy had. Andy had purposely lied. Jess felt sick. Not only did Andy still hate him, but because of his lies, Jess had he been denied the recognition he needed to be released. Jess could only hope that Mort would answer and help get things straightened out.

The days were long and the nights felt even longer as Jess paced his enclosure, frustration pouring out of him as he rattled the cell doors and yelled for the Sheriff, only to be ignored. Both the Sheriff and his Deputy had turned cold and harsh. To them, he was a liar and a murderer. They wanted the Marshalls to come get him as soon as possible.

He was left alone except for when someone remembered to bring him meals – which was usually only once a day. Each time he was fed, he asked whether any telegrams from Laramie had been received. The Sheriff would shake his head no, reiterating that the Laramie Sheriff probably didn't even exist. His voice was cold and Jess knew the Sheriff now didn't believe anything he had said.

His plate of food was tossed onto the floor before kicking it under the bars. Jess had no appetite, and the food went untouched. The Sheriff did nothing about his prisoner's lack of appetite, content to merely hold Jess in custody until collected by the Federal Marshal. Besides, he figured, given Harper's reputation, a weakened Jess Harper would be easier to handle.

Jess lost count of the days he had been held. One morning he was awoken by noises emanating from the Sheriff's office. As the Sheriff came through the door, he ordered Jess to get on his feet. As the Sheriff unlocked the cell door, the Deputy held a gun on Jess before indicating for him to enter the office. Once there, he was shoved into a chair and ordered to put his arms behind his back. He seriously considered attempting a break, but thought better of it when facing the Deputy's double barrel shotgun.

The Sheriff snapped one handcuff tightly onto one of Jess' wrists, threaded it through one of the rungs at the back of the chair and then onto his other wrist, effectively confining him to the chair. Jess fought the inclination to wince, refusing to give the Sheriff even a small amount of satisfaction in that regard. Then, in preparation for his prisoner being transported, the Sheriff knelt and fitted Jess with leg irons, also threading them around and through the chair legs. Given the crimes Harper was charged with, he was taking no chances with this prisoner. Once the Marshall took custody, Jess Harper would no longer be the Sheriff's problem.

Jess looked down at the metal encircling his ankles, moving his feet, testing his range of motion. Looking at Bret, he asked sarcastically. "What's the matter? Having my arms pinned behind me ain't enough? You figure me and this ole chair can open that there door and run out?"

Jess ducked in reflex when the Deputy started to swing the butt of the shotgun at him. The Sheriff kept him from connecting with Jess' body. There was no hiding the animosity between the Deputy and the prisoner.

Jess seethed in silence, his anger quickly approaching the boiling point. He'd had enough of being falsely imprisoned, ignored and treated badly. He knew, if given the chance, he'd explode and most likely be sorry for his actions. But he'd get great satisfaction in smashing his fist into the Deputy's face. He waited for the opportunity, hoping his hands would be freed, yet knowing he'd never escape due to the leg irons. He heard the office door open and close but couldn't see who had entered.

"Glad to see you, Marshall" started the Sheriff. "We got us a bad one here – wanted for murder of some deputies. I can add a charge of horse theft too. Man tried stealing Rhoades' palomino – just as bold as brass. Claimed he worked for some relay station over Laramie way and the horse belonged to the ranch, but this here telegram I got back denies even knowing him. I'll be glad to get him off my hands. All he's done is lie about everything connected to him. Says he's not wanted anywhere, yet here's the poster on him. I'll need you to sign the paperwork so I can pay the man who brought him in."

"Oh, he's a bad one all right, I'll give you that." Replied the Marshall. "Now, take the cuffs off him and let him go."

Recognizing the voice, Jess jerked around in his chair, finding himself face to face with Branch McGary. Branch was all smiles as he looked at Jess. "How ya doing, Jess?" he nearly laughed.

"I'd do a lot better without these bracelets." Jess grinned back, wiggling his hands behind the chair.

The Sherriff was beside himself. "What. . . What . . . What you talking about? He's wanted. I got the poster right here!" he held out the poster to Branch. Branch laughed and tore it up, tossing the pieces back onto the Sheriff's desk.

"Jess was cleared of those charges. He's not wanted anywhere."

Still stuttering, the Sheriff freed Jess, who stood and shook hands with McGary.

"Give him back his gun and wallet." Branch said, releasing Jess' hand. "And, by the way, Jess here has ridden with several of us lawmen. He's a good one to have on your side. He's a crack shot – so don't mess with him." Branch paused a moment before continuing on. "And just one more thing – Jess doesn't lie. He does work for Slim Sherman and if he says that horse belongs to the Sherman Ranch, you'd better believe him." Then he turned to Jess. "How about I buy you breakfast?"

Jess strapped on his gun belt, tucked his wallet back into his vest and donned his hat. "Sounds good to me, especially as one of Rhoades' men took my last dollar!" he said as he headed for the door, leaving a bewildered Sheriff and Deputy behind in the office. Outside the office, neither Branch nor Jess could contain themselves, busting out into laughter.

"I say, Jess." Began Branch as they headed towards the local cafe. "You get yourself into the darndest situations. Why didn't you just show him your paperwork?"

"Rhoades, again. One of his men tore up my identification and my pardon. I had nothing to show but an empty wallet."

Branch slapped Jess on the shoulder as they entered the café and sat down to a long talk and satisfying meal.

"Wait." Said Branch in confusion as he sipped his coffee. "You're telling me that Andy's ranch horse – the palomino – is the same one they're calling Thunder and using out to the fairgrounds as a bronco?"

Jess nodded. "Seems so. At least that's what the Sheriff said."

Branch shook his head. "Doesn't make any sense." He continued. "And what is this about Sherman denying you exist?"

"Weren't Slim." Replied Jess. "It was Andy. He's been in trouble all year and on probation. Or at least I think he's on probation. It might be over now. I been gone so long I lost track of time. Anyway, he was mad at me over my making him turn Cyclone loose." He had told Branch about the shootout at the death camp, but not going into detail over everything that happened afterwards. "I knew he was mad. He even said he hated me." Jess shook his head. "But I never thought he'd go this far. Why, if you hadn't been the Marshal sent here to collect me, I'd have disappeared and maybe never seen the light of day again." He fingered the collar of his shirt, finding it suddenly tight and constricting. Things could have been much worse than just being sent back to prison for the old conviction – he might have been hung for the deputies' murders. Jess shuddered. "I don't never want to go back to prison and now I got nothing saying I was pardoned."

Branch placed a friendly hand on Jess' shoulder. "We can fix that. All that's needed is a letter sent to the Warden and you'll have your new paperwork." Branch stood up, placing his hat on his head. "Let's get something to ride and head on out to the fairgrounds. Let's see how far this badge will get us towards getting that ole horse of yours back."

CHAPTER FIVE

Branch and Jess were approaching the fairgrounds just beyond the city limits when they heard a rider coming up behind them. Recognizing the Sheriff, they waited, interested in whether he was there to stop them or help them. They nodded a somber greeting to each other as the Sheriff pulled up alongside of them.

"I figured you'd be headed out this way." He began. "After the way I treated you while you were in jail, I figured the best thing I could do is help you get your horse back."

"What made you change your mind about me?" questioned Jess suspiciously, figuring it couldn't have been just Branch's commentary which had changed the Sheriff's mind.

He had the grace to look embarrassed. "Well, I. Well, I received this telegram right after you were released." He reached into his pocket and handed Jess a yellow telegram slip.

Jess eyed the Sheriff and then looked back at the paper in his hand. "Harper part owner Sherman Ranch. STOP ISO palomino gelding approximate age 8 yrs white blaze two white hind socks STOP A. Sherman retracts prior message STOP lend all assistance to Harper STOP" It was signed Sheriff Mort Cory – Laramie, Wyoming. Grinning, Jess handed the message back to the Sharpton Sheriff.

Jess' grin faded as he realized how much time had transpired since his release. Branch and he had had time to eat breakfast and jaw a while before they had gone to the livery and rented Branch a horse. It was no secret where they'd been dining. Sheriff Travis seemed to anticipate Jess' reaction. Reaching into his vest, he pulled out another paper.

"You might want this." He said handing the paper to Jess. "I had to track down the Judge. It's a court order giving you possession of the gelding." Jess looked at Bret unbelievingly. "Your Sheriff also sent documentation positively identifying the horse and detailing how you have been looking for him for close to six months." The Sheriff shrugged when he saw Jess' bewildered look. "It was the least I could do after holding you in jail for so long." He grinned then, "and it gives me a whole lot of pleasure to see Rhoades lose that animal. I always thought it was fishy how he magically had a bill of sale for the horse once you came along – one which, by the way, he never let me actually see."

Whatever else the Sheriff might have said was lost as Jess leaped from Traveler and vaulted over the fence surrounding the small corral alongside the main arena. Bret and Branch gasped at the view before them, knowing instantly what had caused Jess' reaction.

Cyclone was covered in sweat as he stood quivering, unable to move, in the center of the arena. Two cowboys held his head, his eyes covered with a cloth tucked into his bridle. One hind foot was tied up to keep him from rearing or kicking and his front feet were hobbled. In the few moments it took Jess to cross the arena, Rhoades had stepped into the saddle. The blindfold and ropes were all jerked away, setting the horse free.

All four feet left the ground as Cyclone exploded into action, twisting and turning; his head reaching for the ground as he struck out with his front legs, then bucking hard in an effort to unseat his rider. Bellowing in anger coupled with the pain caused by Rhoades' spurs and his heavy hands upon the reins, he bucked furiously. Circling the small enclosure, he alternately reared and bucked or swapped directions, trying desperately to dislodge the man upon his back. Rhoades merely laughed as he sunk his spurs deeper into the gelding's sides, raking his feet forward and back, drawing blood in his sick desire to dominate the animal beneath him.

Cyclone's eyes were white with fear as he bucked and kicked around the corral, desperate to escape the quirt now being laid upon his haunches. The horse's screams were more than Jess could bare as he barreled across the dirt. He had almost reached Rhoades when he was tackled by two of Rhoades' men. They took him down hard, almost knocking the wind out of him. But he was on his feet instantly, landing punches even as they avoided the crazed horse and rider. Evading Rhoades' men, Jess once again beelined for Rhoades himself. With a well-timed leap, Jess caught Rhoades around the waist, trying to drag him from the saddle, but Cyclone's bucking prevented him from gaining any leverage. Instead, Rhoades began striking Jess with his quirt, trying to make him let go. Jess could feel the leather lashes striking his face and back, only slightly aware of the welts forming upon his skin. Jess clung to his precarious hold on Rhoades, refusing to let go, even when his eye began to swell closed and his arms screamed from the jolting. But his weight threw Cyclone off balance, and he gelding fell, taking both men with him. The momentum threw Jess clear of the wreck but he was slammed into the ground. He lay where he had fallen, barely able to breathe, knowing he'd broken several ribs. As darkness began to overtake him, he could only hope Cyclone wouldn't stomp him to death.

Jess could hear his name being called. It seemed like it was from a great distance. He was still lying where he had fallen in the arena. He couldn't understand the words being spoken to him and he couldn't understand why he was still laying in the dirt. It hurt to move, so he was content to just lay there, waiting for his senses to return.

"Jess, don't move." He recognized Branch's voice but couldn't understand why no one was near him, hadn't come to help; and why shouldn't he move? His muscles twitched as feeling returned to his numb body. "Jess, can you hear me?" came Branch's voice again. "Jess, you have to lay still."

Jess rolled his head to the side, still trying to understand. He was startled to see Cyclone's front hooves mere inches from his head. Further away, he could see Rhoades' body lying where he had fallen. Jess' muddled thinking figured Rhoades had broken his neck in the fall. But he couldn't understand why he was still lying in the dirt and why Cyclone was so close. Jess rolled his head to the other side, finally fixing on Branch and Bret at the rails closest to him, but standing on the outside of the arena.

"Jess, are you all right? Are you hurt?" Called Branch again.

"I'm all right." Jess mumbled as he started to roll to his side, only to have them warn him to lay still. He passed one hand through his hair and then tentatively felt the swelling on his face.

"Cyclone's standing over you." Called Branch. "We can't get near you. He chases everyone away. We don't know what to do. We're afraid if you try to get up, he'll attack you."

Jess looked over at Cyclone, reaching out a hand to touch the gelding's leg. "He won't hurt me, will you boy." Jess said as he petted the gelding. Cyclone's response was to drop his head and lip at Jess' hair. Jess laughed softy and lifted both hands to pet Cyclone. Cyclone nudged him. Taking his cue from the horse, Jess struggled to his feet. He ignored the pain coursing through his ribs as he stripped the saddle and bridle from Cyclone. Placing a hand under the horse's jowl, Jess said "Let's go home." The gelding quietly followed him to the gate and waited patiently as Jess slipped a lasso over his head and led him out.

Branch and the Sharpton Sheriff approached Jess and Cyclone cautiously. They were astounded at how calmly the horse now accepted them coming near Jess. He was relaxed, his ears flicking back and forth as Jess surveyed the damage Rhoades' spurs had inflicted.

"What now, Jess?" Bret asked as Jess retrieved a container from his saddlebags and began putting a salve on Cyclone's cuts. Jess laid an arm across Cyclone's back as he turned to look at the Sheriff.

"Well, if you don't need me for anything, I'd like to be headed home." He looked at the sky and frowned. "Looks like we're in for either rain or snow. I got me better'n a week to travel. I'd best be getting to it."

"You said Rhoades' men took your money." Interjected Branch. "How's about you let me stake you to some supplies? You can pay me back later." He grinned when Jess started to object to the offer. "Besides, I might be needing me a deputy again. I want to make sure he's available." Branch said laughingly, giving Jess a wink.

Jess dropped his attitude, somewhat humbled by the faith Branch showed in him. Nodding his head, he looked up at the now mounted Sheriff and Marshall. "I'd be right obliged to ya for the loan." He said as he mounted Traveler. Branch noticed the wince Jess gave when he mounted.

Eyeing Jess knowingly, Branch cocked his head. "Jess, you best be seeing the doc before you leave town." Jess started to deny anything was wrong but gave up the charade when he was nearly doubled over by the pain through his ribs.

Nodding in capitulation he gasped. "Ya, might be an idea." Holding one arm across his mid-section, Jess turned Traveler back towards town. The Sheriff and Marshall fell in beside him as they made the short journey.

With the horses securely stabled at the livery, Jess made his way to the doctor's office. He grunted in mild protest over the tightness of the binding encircling his ribs but sucked in his breath when the doctor applied an ointment to the welts on his face and back. Turning his head, he waited until the stinging sensation faded and he could breathe again. The doctor tut-tutted over the wound from the Braxton Sheriff, but allowed that it had healed well and Jess suffered no loss of motion due to its location. He didn't ask how Jess had received the wound, figuring it was something he didn't care to know the details of. Waving off the doctor's advice to not ride for a week, Jess donned his shirt and headed for the door. Branch had to turn away in order to stifle the snicker that escaped his lips. He knew Jess would saddle up and ride out at the first opportunity. This was the Jess Harper he knew all right – stubborn to the bone.

The livery man was glad to see Jess come to get his two horses.

"That blamed palomino has hurrahed every horse I put next to him 'cept your bay." The old man shook his head in consternation. "Ain't seen nothing like it. That horse just plum enjoys causing trouble."

Jess couldn't help but smile and shake his head, much to the annoyance of the livery owner. Apparently, Cyclone was back to his old self – raising havoc whenever possible.

Supplies purchased and packed, Bret Travis stood with Branch McGary, each lifting one hand in good bye as Jess rode away from Sharpton. Riding his faithful horse Traveler and leading a complacent Cyclone, Jess headed for Laramie and home.

CHAPTER SIX

Slim shivered in his heavy winter jacket and gloves as he stepped out onto the porch. It seemed that no matter how many layers he wore, he just could not get warm. He wasn't supposed to be outside. The doctor had sternly warned him, in his weakened condition, that he'd be more susceptible to cold and flu than ever before. His body just didn't have anything left with which to fight any illness. Slim wasn't surprised to see Mort Cory ride into the snow-covered yard. Not only was he a valued friend, it had been part of the Court Order that Mort would ride out and do impromptu visits to be sure Andy was complying with the terms of his probation. However, it was the grim look on Mort's face that caused him trepidation. Although the two men shook hands, Mort didn't break a smile nor wish him a happy holiday. He came right to the point.

"Slim, I've come to check on Andy." He began.

"Okay. He's either in the house or the barn. It's cold out here, let's go inside while I get him." He started towards the house only to have Mort stop him.

"I'm sorry I have to ruin your holiday, but I'm not here just to check on him." Mort said tersely. "I'm afraid he's gotten himself into a bit of trouble, although I'm not sure exactly how to handle it."

"I don't understand." Stated a confused Slim. "He completed all his check ins, didn't he?"

Mort looked uncomfortable as he explained. "That's not the problem, Slim. I found out about this." He said handing a telegram slip to Slim. Slim read it in shock. "This is dated weeks ago, but I never saw it until now." He exclaimed.

Mort shook his head, his sadness deepening. "I know – and that isn't the bad part of it." He said handing Slim another slip. "This is what got sent back in response. I didn't find out about it until I got back into town and had a message of my own waiting for me." He paused. "You know what this means, don't you? Jess was held in jail because Andy refused to acknowledge his relationship to the ranch. The Sheriff had arrested him on an old warrant and was adding a new charge of horse theft. He found Cyclone, Slim, and was bringing him home. Because of that answer, he was charged with horse theft because someone else claimed he had a bill of sale. Dad-gum-it, Jess could have been hung for having the ranch's horse in his possession and we'd never known about it. On top of that, the Sheriff had sent for the Marshalls to pick him up."

Slim stared at Mort, bewildered., incredulously repeating what Mort had said – Jess had nearly been hung because of Andy's answer to the telegram.

Mort answered Slim's unasked question. "Jess was released before I was able to respond. Luckily for him, it was Branch McGary who was sent to pick him up and got it all straightened out."

Slim felt stricken; his own brother had nearly been the cause of Jess' death – again.

"What do you want me to do?" Slim asked, afraid he already knew the answer.

Mort rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Well," he began "It's two days until Christmas. I don't want to spoil anybody's holiday and I certainly don't intend to miss Jonesy's Christmas turkey. I'm afraid it may be a bit awkward if we don't settle this right now." He shrugged a little. "Course, it might still be a little awkward depending upon how this plays out, but I'm willing to chance it if you are."

Slim nodded in agreement. "No time like the present. Don't want this hanging over our heads for the holiday. Come on in, Mort, and get warm. I'll fetch Andy."

This time Mort accepted, settling down to the dining room table with Jonesy and a fresh cup of coffee.

Andy knew he was in trouble the minute he saw Mort Cory and Slim talking on the porch. From behind the barn door where he was hiding, he could see Slim straighten up and his body tense before casting a glance towards the barn. Then again, Mort might just be doing his routine visit, checking up on him during the last of his probation. He'd never told Slim about the telegram he answered, denying that the Sherman Ranch had any knowledge of a Jess Harper. He had a gut feeling that Mort had found out about his deception and that was the motive for the Sheriff's unscheduled visit.

Part of Andy was glad he'd sent the telegram. Whenever he thought about it, he shrugged his shoulders, justifying his actions by thinking it served Jess right for making him lose Cyclone. Andy's emotions were all over the place as he thought about Jess. Jess had always been good to him, taught him things and corrected him when he was wrong. There was something about Jess that made Andy accept his wisdom or reprimands without question, even though he'd challenge his brother when he intoned those same actions. He couldn't deny Jess had saved his life by taking him to the doctor in Braxton. Yet somehow, he just couldn't get past the loss of his horse. He jumped when Slim called his name and squeezed himself more tightly behind the barn door, hoping no one would find him there. But it was no use. Slim's long arm reached around the door and grabbed him by the collar, dragging him out into the yard. Still gripping his collar like he would an uncooperative child, Slim escorted him into the house where he came face to face with Sheriff Mort Cory. Andy had never seen Slim so mad, yet he noted how the effort seemed to have drained Slim of all energy.

"Do you know what you've done?" questioned Slim angrily, shaking Andy's collar. Andy easily wiggled himself out of Slim's grip, standing toe to toe with his brother, unmindful of anything but his own anger. He was sick of being treated like a kid. He was sixteen and old enough to know what he wanted. Slim had no right to confront him anymore for anything. He was his own man and he stood his ground.

"I ain't done nothing!" he stormed back, all bravado. He knew what he'd done. He just wasn't about to acknowledge it. But deep inside, he knew something serious had happened or Mort wouldn't have ridden out to the ranch.

"You just can't help lying, can you?" Thundered Slim. He was done trying to understand Andy's unwarranted anger and acting out. Whatever happened next would be all on Andy.

"I told you, I ain't done nothing." Returned Andy.

"What about this?" Demanded Slim, holding out a copy of Andy's answer to the telegram. "How could you? How could you do that to Jess? Do you know what happened to him because of your lies?" Slim's questions were rapid fire, not giving Andy a chance to answer. "Mort was out of town when the telegrams came. Jess was held in jail for over a week because he couldn't prove who he was – because you sent a return telegram denying he was a partner here. Heck, you even denied we knew who he was. Do you realize what could have happened? He telegrammed for help and you left him to sit in jail with no one to turn to. He darn near got turned over to the Marshalls on an old warrant – a recalled warrant. But he couldn't prove anything because his papers had gotten destroyed. How could you, Andy? How could you do that to Jess after all he's meant to you?"

Andy slapped Slim's hand away from his shoulder, before putting distance between Slim and himself. "That saddle tramp don't deserve no better and he'll get no better from me." Andy looked Slim up and down in disgust. "Jess this. Jess that. It's too bad he didn't get taken away. He's as bad as a horse thief 'cause that's what he did to me. He stole my horse by making me turn him loose. In my book he's guilty and jail is where he belongs. I hope I never have to see him ever again!" Andy turned then, storming off into his room where he slammed the door shut behind him.

Slim gasped at Andy's tirade. He no longer recognized his brother – this unrepentant and unforgiving monster who cursed their best friend. There was no way he was going to reveal that Jess had been in jail because of Andy - because of finding Andy's horse. Andy deserved neither Jess' friendship nor the return of Cyclone. He hoped Jess turned the horse loose again. Slim figured it was just punishment for what Jess had gone through on Andy's behalf.

Mort stood, picking up his hat. He was shaking his head as he spoke. "I'm sorry, Slim. Answering the telegram that way wasn't criminal and there's nothing I can do about it. Maybe you can still talk some sense into him." He said as he headed to the door.

Slim's large hand held the door for Mort while his other hand raked through his blond hair.

"It's too late, Mort." He said, sadness overtaking his body. "I can't talk to him anymore. As soon as his probation is over, if he even finishes it, he'll be gone." Slim shook his head. "He'll take off and do who knows what. No, I've lost him. I've lost my brother."

Mort placed a friendly hand on Slim's shoulder. "I'm sorry, boy." He said sincerely. "You did your best. Sometimes it just don't work out."

"You're still coming for Christmas, aren't you?" Slim asked.

This brought a smile to the Sheriff's face. "You bet. Hell and high water couldn't keep me away." He looked up at the sky and turned up the fleece collar of his coat. "Now, that incoming snowstorm might be another thing." He joked, but then said more seriously. "But if there's any way for me to be here, you'll be seeing me. It's a get-together I don't want to miss."

Slim smiled and waved as Mort turned and rode out of the yard.

That night Andy's nightmares awoke the entire household. He kept seeing Cyclone disappearing into a mist. He heard Jess' voice calling his name, crying out in the darkness for help. The image of a body swinging from a hangman's rope woke him, screaming at the top of his lungs. He was wide-eyed in terror, soaked in sweat, as he fought to calm his heartbeat and regain his breath. He yelled at both Slim and Jonesy when they came to his bedside, sending them away, telling them he was okay. But he wasn't. He couldn't tell them it was Jess' voice he'd heard calling out to him and it was Jess' face he'd seen on the hanging corpse. In his dream he had stood there, looking up at the swinging body, Jess' neck twisted grotesquely, eyes closed. But as he was mesmerized by the subtle sway, Jess's eyes opened, staring directly at him. "You did this to me." The corpse intoned. That was the image which had caused him to awaken, screaming, but one he couldn't even begin to describe, nor did he want to.

Every time Andy closed his eyes, the image appeared. He couldn't get it out of his mind. He couldn't swallow the lump in his throat or fill his lungs with air. Guilt was eating away at him. He could deny everything as much as he wanted, yet he knew it was his fault Jess had been held in jail. He'd still been mad at Jess when he'd sent the return telegram. It was a form of prank – a get even with the man who had lost him his horse. The seriousness of what he'd done began to seep into his consciousness. The warrants had been recalled – he knew that. It never occurred to him that someone might make a mistake; might hold Jess for trial simply because of an errant WANTED poster. What if there had been more mistakes and no one had cleared Jess before things went too far? He might actually have been hung for murder.

Andy covered his head with his pillow, trying without success to escape the images that remained. He'd done wrong and there might have been some very serious consequences to his actions. Unable to sleep, he tossed and turned until the morning light seeped through his window.

But daylight brought no relief from the voices and images which had invaded his consciousness. "Guilty" repeated through his mind until he wanted to scream and run away. Only there was no escaping the guilt he felt. Everywhere he turned, he was reminded of Jess. He couldn't unsee the eyes boring into him, blaming him. Confused, angry and unable to express himself, Andy took it out on Slim. He backtalked Slim at every opportunity, causing havoc in whatever he said or did until it reached a boiling point. Slim had gotten after him for not doing his chores and he exploded – both verbally and physically. He'd said things he didn't mean and physically attacked Slim, knocking him to the floor before jumping on his horse and galloping away. He had no plan, didn't even know where he was headed, but anywhere was better than "here". He couldn't take it anymore. He just hadn't realized he couldn't outrun his own guilt.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Andy spurred his horse ever faster through the falling snow, heedless of the danger. He knew he was breaking probation but he couldn't stand it on the ranch one more moment. He'd seen Slim's health declining but only part of him cared. All he wanted to do was get away – away from the ranch, away from the constant reminder of what he'd done wrong, away from knowing it was his fault Slim was sick and Jess had left and not come back, away from the world and all the sorrows it brought down upon him.

He could hear Slim shouting after him as he rode away. Slim would be after him as soon as he saddled Alamo. It only caused him to spur his horse on faster, hoping the snow would cover his tracks and leave Slim nothing to follow. He should have done the chores Slim asked him to do. He shouldn't have knocked Slim down, his health wasn't good enough. The doctor said Slim shouldn't even be out in this weather. The doctor had told them there was nothing more he could do – Slim would either recover – or he wouldn't. Slim had always been whipcord slender, but now he could only be described as gaunt. Andy wiped tears away from his eyes, refusing to let the stark image of a grave's brown earth silhouetted against the winter snow, remain in his mind. He'd driven Jess away and now he might lose Slim too. It was more than he could bare.

Slim was after him even faster than Andy could have imagined. He could hear Alamo's thundering hoofbeats closing in on them. Andy's horse was already sweating and breathing heavily, but Andy spurred him on to even more speed. Alamo's hoofbeats pounded in his ears. Then there was silence. Dead silence. Andy pulled his horse to a halt and sat and listened. Nothing. No hoofbeats. No Slim's calling his name. Just silence and the snowflakes filtering down, covering everything they touched, muting any sound that might have been.

"Slim?" Andy called out tentatively, his heart racing as the knowledge grew that something had happened to his brother. He swallowed the lump in his throat. He'd only wanted to escape the weight of the world – not cause Slim any harm. "SLIM!" he called louder, only to hear nothing in return. Fear drove Andy to turn his horse and head back the way he'd come. By now, snow was falling hard enough to limit his vision. Snowflakes clung to his eyebrows and eyelashes. "SLIM!" he called over and over, only to hear more silence. His heart froze and he couldn't breathe when he finally spotted Slim's already snow-covered form lying on the ground. Leaping from his horse, Andy ran to his brother. As he turned Slim over, he gasped at the bleeding gash along his brother's forehead. Looking up, Andy realized that between the poor visibility and his rush to catch up to Andy, Slim hadn't seen the low hanging branch which knocked him unconscious and off of Alamo. Andy looked around for Alamo but couldn't find him. It was then he realized that his own horse was nowhere to be seen. Andy rubbed his arms, realizing the temperature was dropping. Even though there was no wind, the snow thickened and he could see no further than a few feet in front of him. Slim would die if he didn't do something.

Panic set in as he realized he and the wounded Slim were stranded miles from the ranch house and even further from any of their line cabins. He couldn't go for help. He couldn't leave Slim alone, injured, subject to the cold and snow, let alone unable to protect himself from any predators who might be on the prowl. Even if he did leave Slim, it would take hours to walk back to the ranch house to get help. Trying to peer through the whiteout before him, he knew he'd lose his bearings within a few feet. He could wander around for hours, never getting anywhere and being of no use to Slim. His mouth went dry as tears streaked his cheeks and his heart pounded as sheer terror began to overtake him. Slim was going to die if he didn't do something quickly and it would be all his fault. His fault for running. His fault for fighting Slim through his whole probation. His fault for ever getting involved with Abe and Terry. Andy sunk to his knees beside the still unmoving Slim, praying for help.

A calmness overcame him, causing him to look around again. As his eyes looked towards the wounded Slim, he heard Jonesy's voice in his head and he suddenly knew what to do. Andy began checking Slim's vitals. He was pale and his breath slow but steady. The gash on his forehead had stopped bleeding as badly, probably due to the cold. He had no broken bones. "Keep him warm" came Jonesy's voice. "Don't move him unless you absolutely need to."

Next came Slim's voice. "Keep our wits about you. Take a deep breath. Take a moment to assess your situation – what have you got, what do you need, what should you do in which order. Then and only then move into action. When you've lost your horse and you can't make it back safely, don't wander around. Protect yourself from the elements as best you can. Find a rock overhang, a large tree, anything that'll provide some sort of windbreak and protection. Build a fire as soon as you can, both for your own safety and to act as a signal for a search party."

Perring through the veil of snow, he spotted the faint outline of a pine tree with branches well above the ground and stretching out a great length. There appeared to be a dark patch beneath the tree – the branches had shielded the area from the heavy snow. It would provide some shelter for the two of them. Afraid of losing his bearings, Andy fixated the tree's location in his mind. He had to get Slim to that shelter. Although ill, Slim was still heavier than Andy anticipated. He tried dragging him by his collar, barely gaining any ground towards the tree. He tried dragging Slim by his shoulders but couldn't keep a hold on his coat. He tried semi-lifting Slim and moving him with his hands under Slim's arms, but could only go a few feet before his hands slipped or he had to stop to regain his breath. Finally, he grabbed one of Slim's arms and was able to drag him that way. It was hard going but he put everything he had into saving his brother. His smooth soled western boots repeatedly slipped in the snow and he fell multiple times. He feared he'd never reach his destination. Every time he looked, it seemed further and further away instead of closer. But he wouldn't give up and leave his brother. He was almost at the end of his strength when his foot touched solid ground. With one last serge of energy, Andy pulled Slim beneath the relative safety of the tree. Andy collapsed across Slim's chest, laughing and crying at the same time. He'd made it. He'd gotten Slim to safety.

It took a few minutes for Andy to recover his breath and strength. It was then he looked around to assess their improved situation. He'd worked up a sweat while moving Slim and hadn't noticed the temperature dropping. Now, it invaded his being even though he was wearing his heavy winter coat. Worried, he checked Slim, relieved that he seemed no worse off for the move or the temperature. He knew they needed warmth to make it through the night and maybe even the next day or so. He needed a fire.

Jess' voice came to him next. "Don't never go nowhere without fire fixins'" It had been a hard-earned lesson while on the owl hoot trail. Andy had often thought it useless while working around the ranch, but was grateful he had paid attention. He felt more confident as his fingers curled around the knife and striking flint within his pocket.

Andy found dry pine needles to use as a fire starter. He left Slim momentarily in order to find some dry wood to build a decent and long-lasting fire. Satisfied that his fire would burn for a while, Andy tended to Slim's head wound. The gash was deep but wasn't bleeding any longer. Andy worried over Slim's condition. "Don't die, Slim." Andy pleaded over and over again. "I know everything is my fault. I just couldn't take it anymore." Tears fell freely as Andy cried out all the fear, guilt, anger and frustration that had plagued him since meeting up with Abe and Terry. Andy laid his head across Slim's chest, one arm encircling his unconscious brother. "Please, Slim. Don't die. I'll get us out of here. We've got a fire. I can keep it going, there's plenty of wood. We just have to hold out until the snow stops." Andy looked around him, realizing that it was getting dark. "Or morning comes." He whispered.

Andy stayed by Slim's side as night fell, only leaving to gather more wood. Half laughing at himself he remembered how he had cussed Jess for making him stockpile so much wood when they were hiding out on the owl hoot trail. Now, he'd give anything for that stockpile. Between the heavy falling snow and darkness, he dared not venture out of sight of the campfire. It limited his resources, but he was able to keep a decent fire going – one which meant the difference between life and death for them.

Andy removed Slim's gun from its holster and checked the cylinders. Five shots plus whatever Slim carried on his gun belt. Come morning, Andy would fire off three shots – the recognized signal of someone in distress. Andy settled down next to Slim, gun in hand, intent on protecting themselves from any critter that may endanger them. He tried his best to stay awake all night, but found himself dozing off periodically. Occasionally, he'd doze off, only to jerk himself back awake. But that only lasted for a few moments before he was dozing off again. He kept the fire burning brightly, knowing their lives depended upon it. Yet he grew more and more tired as the wood he'd collected diminished throughout the night. He'd had to range further and further from the fire and finally decided it was more dangerous to be out in the night than next to the waning fire. He cuddled up next to Slim, intent on sharing what body heat he could supply to help make it through the night. As he drifted off, he dreamed of warmth and the smell of food cooking. It was a lovely dream and he smiled in his sleep.

Even as he dreamed, he felt warmer and more comfortable until he realized that he was actually comfortably warm. Through half open eyelids, his gaze rested upon a stockpile of logs next to a now blazing fire. Rubbing his eyes, he thought he was imagining things. But he certainly wasn't imagining the sight of a cookpot hung over the fire and the smell of Jonesy's mulligan stew wafting towards him, making his mouth water and stomach growl.

"I see you remembered to carry fire fixins'" came a familiar voice, startling Andy into full wakefulness. Andy rubbed his eyes again, not believing what he was seeing.

"Jess?" he questioned, still rubbing his eyes, trying to determine if he was dreaming or the man was really standing before him. Realizing it was the man himself, Andy leaped from beside Slim, grabbing Jess in a bear hug, not noticing the man wince at the pressure on his ribs.

"Boy am I glad to see you!" he explained emphatically. Then turning back to his brother, he said. "Slim's hurt bad. Got knocked off his horse and both horses ran away. Can you help him? When'd you get back? How'd you know to come look for us? How'd you find us?"

Jess hadn't heard anything past Andy's statement that Slim was hurt. Setting the boy aside, he went to Slim's side and examined him. Turning to Andy he said. "I don't think he's hurt too bad. His breathing seems normal and that's a good sign."

"But he hasn't regained consciousness." Said the worried Andy.

Shaking his head, Jess answered. "I can't do nothin' about that, but I can make things a little more comfortable until morning." He disappeared into the darkness but was only gone for a few moments before returning with an armload of blankets and a tarp.

"Don't just stand there, boy." Jess uttered towards Andy who stood transfixed, staring at the supplies Jess had brought into their camp. "Come help me get this set up." He turned towards Andy, a grin on his face. "You do remember how to do this, don't ya?"

"You, bet!" was Andy's only answer, grinning ear to ear as he sprang into action.

Working together without words, Jess lifted Slim's limp body while Andy laid down a ground tarp and blankets. In only moments, they had created a warmer sleeping area for the three of them in addition to a windbreak and an overhead cover which would be protection from any additional snowfall.

Andy dug into the mulligan stew like he hadn't eaten in months. Truth was, it was the first time he'd had any appetite since his first "adventure" with Abe and Terry. He'd thought he'd cleansed himself of their influence back there on the owl hoot trail. Now he realized he'd only buried his involvement and culpability under false bravado, only admitting to his crimes to please those he lived with while still in total denial he'd done anything wrong by tagging along with his two buddies.

Andy's gaze swept over the still unconscious Slim and his heart broke, making it hard to swallow the lump in his throat. He'd been lying to Slim, Jonesy, and Mort the whole time he'd been on probation. He'd played the part of being contrite in order to gain their sympathy and support, but the whole time he had resented every moment he had served in jail, in community service and even while relegated to the ranch. His guilt and anger had built up until he could contain it no longer, mouthing off to Slim and fleeing the ranch house, resulting in an ill Slim chasing him into a snowstorm. Andy shook his head. Slim was his brother, who had given everything to help him grow up.

Slim could have let him stew in jail, but he'd paid Andy's fines time and time again. Andy hadn't realized and hadn't cared how much those fines had dipped into the ranch's operating funds. Slim was in poor shape financially and physically because of his actions. Up until his nightmares had begun, Andy had denied he'd done anything wrong, believing the world was against him, that he wasn't responsible for Slim's financial problems or health. Now he knew how wrong he was.

If he hadn't tied in with Abe and Terry, things wouldn't be the way they were now. If he hadn't stolen merchandise, he wouldn't have been in trouble and lied to Slim. He had broken a trust with Slim by lying to him. It was why Slim now questioned everything he said and did. He didn't know if that rift could ever be healed. If he hadn't been with Abe and Terry when they shot Mr. Jonas, he wouldn't have been arrested. If he hadn't been arrested, Abe and Terry wouldn't have broken him out of jail, hurting Sheriff Cory in the process. And if they hadn't broken him out of jail, maybe Abe and Terry would still be alive. Then there was what he'd done to Jess.

What he had done to Jess was equally unforgiveable. Andy tossed a secretive look Jess' way, his vision blurred by moisture. Deep down inside, Andy knew he owed his life to Jess. Jess had saved him being killed by the two false deputies. Andy felt a coldness in the pit of his stomach. He vividly recalled how he'd been treated by the Braxton Sheriff. He shuddered at how it felt to be man handled, beaten and locked into a 10 by 10-foot space with nothing but an uncomfortable cot for amenities. Even though he trusted their own sheriff, being locked in the Laramie jail brought the same fear and feelings of helplessness. His time was not his own. He went nowhere without a guarded escort. He ate on their schedule and what they chose to feed him. Visitors were limited to Sundays. How he wished he hadn't squandered those precious days when he'd had Slim to himself for part of a day – even if there were jail bars between them. Andy never wanted to see the inside of a jail cell again. Yet somehow, he blamed Jess for his being incarcerated. Watching Jess covertly, Andy suddenly understood why Jess had decided to run after shooting what he thought were deputies. He knew, without asking, that Jess had spent time in jail, and knew how bad it could be. He shook his head. Jess had tried to warn him in so many different ways. Jess had protected him, putting his own life and freedom in peril. Jess had nearly died protecting him. But he'd thrown it all back in Jess' face - simply because he'd lost Cyclone. Andy wiped his eyes against his coat sleeve. He'd destroyed his friendship with Jess over it; over Cyclone. Over a horse. Andy felt like someone was squeezing his heart because it hurt so much. He'd intentionally been mean and cruel to Jess, knowing how much it would hurt him. He'd driven Jess away from the ranch, the place Jess had finally begun to call home.

Yet Andy held a glimmer of hope that all was not lost. Jess was here. Jess had done what Jess always did - come to the rescue. Andy didn't know whether he could put his thankfulness into words, didn't know how to thank someone who had put so much on the line so selflessly. Thinking back to how everyone had stood by him, Andy realized he had a great deal of growing up to do. He had to make amends for everything he had said and done. Sure, he'd done his time and was nearing the end of his probation, but he hadn't done right by those who cared the most. He didn't know who he owed the biggest apology to – Jonesy, Slim, Mort or Jess. He figured it cut about equal either way he looked at it. He had wronged every one of those closest to him.

Daybreak dawned with the snow continuing to fall at an alarming rate. Visibility was better but it was still unsafe to attempt heading for home. Jess prepared bacon over the fire, grateful Slim had come around during the night. Other than the gash on his forehead and a severe headache, he seemed no worse for wear. Jess figured Slim had a concussion, but only a doctor could tell for sure. He was worried over Slim's weight loss. He knew immediately that Slim was ill and shouldn't be out in this cold, yet there was nothing he could do to change their circumstances other than to get everyone back home. He blamed himself for being gone so long. If he'd been home, Slim wouldn't be ill – he'd have seen to that. Maybe he'd been wrong in going after Andy's horse. Maybe he should have stayed home and worked it out, or even let Andy suffer the loss. The "maybes" poked and prodded his consciousness. It was then Jess made his decision. His presence at the Sherman Ranch had been detrimental to his family. He'd brought them nothing but pain and trouble since the first day he'd accepted Slim's offer. He'd never regretted his "deal me in" declaration – at least not until he realized he had dealt them into his own trouble. He'd ignored the signs, selfish in trying to hold onto his new family. He knew now, that he couldn't stay. They'd have a better and more simple life without him.

Snow continued to fall through midafternoon. As it slowly abated, the sun shone brightly, a glaring contrast to the previous darkness. If they were to head for home, they needed to leave right away. There were only a few hours before the sun set and it would take all of them to reach the homestead.

As he packed their belongings and distributed it among the three horses, Jess answered Slim and Andy's questions. He had arrived home the previous evening only to find their two saddled horses wandering around the yard. After conferring with Jonesy, they had pieced together the probability that the two were now stranded, silently praying no one had been hurt. However, the horses returning without their riders had caused quite a bit of worry for the older man, himself unable to mount any form of rescue. They wished they could communicate to Jonesy that they were all okay.

Jess had paused only long enough to saddle fresh horses, pack needed necessities for being out overnight and had headed back out in search of the missing Shermans. He had an uncanny knack for direction and followed the most probable path. In spite of the darkness and snow, he had found Andy's camp just hours after midnight. Now he helped Slim mount up, noting his partner's weakness and instability. He would have to be watched carefully so he didn't fall off and cause himself further injury. The trek back was long and silent, all riders concentrating on getting home safely.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Jess sat beside Slim's bedside, talking quietly until he eased into a peaceful sleep. He felt bad for misleading Slim, but knew it was the only way Slim would find any peace tonight. Stepping from his bedroom, Jess saw Jonesy watching him. Jonesy said nothing as Jess slipped back into his winter coat, donning his gun belt and hat. Anguished eyes watched him, knowing what was about to happen.

Jess was leaving – this time for good. Jess had accomplished his mission by bringing Cyclone home – something neither Andy nor Slim knew about. Andy had helped Slim into the house and into bed while Jess had said he'd put the horses and supplies away. No one except Jonesy noticed Jess didn't lead his own horse into the barn to put up for the night. Jonesy shook his head sadly as he watched the door close. The house had felt empty those months when Jess had been absent. It felt even more empty now. It was if the very life had been sucked out of the cozy cabin. Jonesy busied himself in the kitchen. Hidden from everyone, he allowed his own heartbreak to overcome him. Whatever Jess had been prior to coming to the Sherman Ranch, he had redeemed himself a thousand-fold. Yet it was because of words both spoken and unspoken which now caused Jess to be leaving the place he had called home for almost three years.

As soon as Slim had been safely put to bed, Andy had secluded himself in his own room, feigning sleep when Jess had tried to talk to him. Now, Andy tossed and turned fitfully in his bed. He didn't know where the meanness had come from. He'd missed Jess the whole time he'd been gone but instead of welcoming him back, he'd given Jess attitude. He'd seen the hurt look on Jess' face and pangs of regret washed over him. Unbidden, images tumbled around in his mind – both good and bad. He remembered trying to teach Jess to swim and the outings the four of them had enjoyed. He remembered the camp outs during their cattle drives and the jokes they had played on Jonesy.

He remembered the evenings an exhausted Slim had still painstakingly helped him read and do sums for school. He didn't know how Slim had done it, but he'd never been hungry and he'd never been cold. Even though he was often at odds with Slim, he'd always known he was loved and the ranch was his home. Somehow, he knew Jess hadn't been so lucky and how long it had taken Jess to trust and feel that he too belonged at the Ranch. Andy remembered how he'd never wanted for anything yet couldn't wait to escape from the ranch. Slim had seen his need to expand his horizons and sent him back east to school. Again, Andy hadn't appreciated the sacrifices Slim must have made to give him that opportunity – turning against everything he'd been taught as soon as the he'd fallen in with Abe and Terry.

He'd nearly been killed along with Abe and Terry – but Jess had been there to save him. He'd followed Jess on the Owl Hoot trail and learned the harsh reality of being on the run, yet Jess was there looking out for him. When he'd gotten hurt, Jess had put his own freedom in jeopardy. Now, Jess had found him and Slim during a snowstorm, bringing them home safely. He'd repaid Jess with words he couldn't take back. If Jess left, it would be because he had been driven from his home.

Andy tossed and turned even more fitfully as voices now invaded his troubled mind – words of wisdom he had ignored. "You can't forgive someone else until you forgive yourself." That had been Jess' low southern drawl. "You gotta choose, and then you gotta live with your decision because once it's done, there's no goin' back." How many times had he heard Slim say that? "When you done wrong, you gotta make it right the best you can." Came Jess' voice again. "You only got yourself to blame for the trouble you're in." Mort Cory had intoned. "There's consequences to everything you do." Then Jess' voice came again. "Most men consider themselves lucky if they can count on one hand the number of true friends he has. It's a valuable thing, one which shouldn't be squandered or disrespected."

Then the nightmare came again. The same images tumbled around in his mind – Cyclone disappearing, Jess calling for help – and the dreaded body swinging from a rope. He tried to blot them out, tossing and turning in an attempt to escape. Andy was sweating profusely as he kicked his covers off and dug his fingers into his eyes trying to rid himself of the images and voices. He'd done wrong. He'd been wrong. He'd hurt those closest to him. He had no one to blame but himself. He'd done this. He'd been responsible for everything that had transpired.

Unable to take it anymore, Andy donned his pants and boots, letting his nightshirt cover them as he ran to Slim and Jess' bedroom. He had to make things right – starting with Jess. He gasped when he saw Jess' bed was empty. Frantically he returned to the main room, only to see Jess' coat no longer hung in its place by the door. He was beside himself, unsure what to do.

"He's gone, boy." Came Jonesy's uncharacteristic sad voice.

"When? How? Why?" stammered a nearly hysterical Andy as he turned this way and that, unsure as to what he should do.

Jonesy shook his head. "Just a few minutes ago, but if you don't know why, then you ain't learned a fool thing this whole time."

Andy gripped Jonesy's arms so hard the older man winced, fear and confusion on his face. "I gotta find him!" he declared pleadingly. "I gotta tell him I'm sorry! I didn't mean any of what I said. I want him home, Jonesy. I want him home!"

"You're too late." Was all Jonesy said, shaking his head as he turned away.

"No! It can't be too late.!" Andy nearly yelled; his remorse evident. He rushed to the door. Silhouetted in the moonlight, Andy could just make out Jess' form cresting the top of Stagecoach Road. Frantic, Andy tore out into the night after him. In his mind, if he cut across the field, he might be able to catch up to Jess before he was too far gone.

Andy ran, his boots slipping and sliding in the snow, desperate to catch up to Jess, to make things right. The cold air hurt his lungs and being without his coat, he shivered, but he kept on running. All of the way to the top of the ridge he was spurred on by the voices in his head. "Make it right". "You only have yourself to blame." "You gotta forgive yourself." "True friends. True friends. True friends. . ."

His lungs screaming for air, Andy made it to the spot where they had always spied the incoming stagecoaches. From here he could see for miles. Looking around expectantly, he saw – nothing. The air was clear and cold with no wind to stir the blanket of snow. The full moon shone down brightly, moonbeams dancing across the silent mantle covering the earth. But the night's beauty was lost on the young boy struggling to become a man; accepting his role in the series of unfortunate events which had transpired. The boy had matured enough to realize his hero was human, with all of the faults and frailties that came with being one. Although he had lost Jess as his hero, what he discovered was far better, richer and real – Jess was family – and you didn't turn your back on family no matter what. Behind him, in the house that was his home, lay his injured brother. And out there, somewhere in the cold, rode the man who had changed their lives as much as they had changed his, a man who belonged on the ranch with them.

"Jess" Andy called urgently into the night air, his words traveling across the barren land. "I'm sorry, Jess." He could hear his words echoing in the emptiness of the night. Andy tried to swallow the lump in his throat. "Please come home." He pleaded aloud. "We need you. I... I need you." He admitted. He continued to call out, praying his words could be heard, yet fearing the one he sought had already traveled too far to hear them. All he could think of was Jess was gone, and it was his fault.

Andy raised his eyes towards the night sky. High above him, a star shone brighter than all the others. It seemed to be perched at the top of the trees, reminding Andy of the Christmas tree and star topper that graced their living room. Tears stained his cheeks as he sunk to his knees in the snow. He began speaking quietly, reverently. "I done wrong, Lord. I lied, cheated, stole, and bore false witness. I betrayed Jess' friendship. Slim ain't my pa, but I disrespected him and Jonesy – not to mention Mort Cory. I think I about broke every commandment you ever put forth. Please don't punish Jess because of what I did. Don't send him away. He belongs here. Bring him home – please. It ain't home without him. We need him. He needs us. This is where he belongs."

Standing up, Andy felt warmth flood through his body and the weight of all his burdens lifted from his shoulders. Sniffling, he turned back towards home, his shoulders slumped. He slowly plodded back across the pasture. What was he going to tell Slim? He'd ruined everything – again.

"Think Jonesy has any apple pie left?' came a voice from behind him. He spun around; unsure he was really seeing Jess standing there holding Traveler's reins. He didn't hesitate a moment before engulfing him in a bear hug, laughing and crying at the same time. "I'm sorry Jess. I'm so sorry. I should never have blamed you for anything, including losing Cyclone. You can't replace friendship or family. And you're family, Jess. You're family. Please come home. Say you'll stay. You're family, you've got to stay." Suddenly embarrassed over his emotions, Andy stepped back from Jess, but still wiped a tear from his eyes. He felt his heart sink when Jess said nothing before turning and remounting Traveler. Sadness turned back into joy when Jess kicked his foot out of the stirrup and extended his hand. "Need a ride?" he asked. Andy didn't need to be asked twice, quickly clambering up behind Jess.

Arriving back at the front porch, Andy hesitated when Jess told him to go inside while he put Traveler into the barn. Part of him was afraid if he left Jess's side, that Jess would disappear again. But Jess reassured him he'd be in presently, while also gently reminding Andy that he was outside without a coat. Reluctantly, Andy did as bid but waited anxiously until Jess joined him by the fireplace. Only when Jess headed to bed did Andy give in to his sleepiness and go to his own room.

Morning found the Sherman household sleeping in, enjoying the peace and quiet that came before the excitement of the day and the arrival of friends. There were few presents under the tree, but no one noticed because the family was together for the first time in months. Jonesy outdid himself with sweet rolls, ham, eggs, and waffles gracing the breakfast table. Afterwards, Jess helped Slim settle into the rocking chair by the fireplace before sitting down himself, letting Andy know they had delegated him to do the morning chores. For once, Andy didn't complain, actually cracking a grin as he exited the farmstead. He couldn't help looking back at the men sitting by the hearth. His family was complete and it felt good.

Slim looked at Jess. "What happened?" he asked, bewildered. Jess just shrugged.

"I guess our boy finally grew up." Was all he said, taking his coffee cup back to the kitchen for a refill. He was barely on his feet before the door burst open and Andy flew into Jess' arms. Jess ignored the pain that ran through his still cracked ribs because Andy's genuine love and gratitude outweighed any discomfort he felt.

"Cyclone's home!" he yelled excitedly. "You found him." He said detaching himself from Jess. "But how? You didn't say a word last night." He said in confusion.

Jess shrugged. "It wasn't important." He answered, covering any emotion he felt by pretending to take a sip from his empty cup.

Andy looked around at the occupants of the room before turning to look at their tree, his eyes fixed upon the star shining there. He felt warmth, love, gratefulness, and wonder surround him his as he silently gave thanks. One by one the members of the family joined him at the tree; each silently giving their own thanks for the turn of events which had brought them all back together. Later in the day, the house would be filled with friends and neighbors, but for right now, they celebrated being a family.

THE END.