Andy tried to still his racing heart. The sight of Slim's face in Skeenan's huge hand was terrifying enough; he couldn't imagine how it would look to see the man holding a razor to his brother's throat. He blinked slowly, trying to think his way through it. What would Jess do?

Well. Jess would probably jump him. That wasn't going to work.

What would Slim do?

He'd probably jump Skeenan too, come to think of it. But if he couldn't do that, he'd bide his time. He'd use his circumstances to his advantage. He'd be smart about it.

And right now, there was only one advantage Andy had. He licked his lips nervously. "You said that I got to make all the choices from now on."

"So I did." The man's face turned ugly as he turned to Andy. "You wanna shave him, or you want me to do it?"

Andy swallowed as the man stared him down. It wasn't exactly the choice he'd been hoping for, but it was better than nothing. "I'll do it."

"My kit's on the dresser." Slim's encouraging smile was warped under Skeenan's meaty fingers. Andy tried to smile back, but it was all he could really do to stand up and walk into the bedroom.

"Leave that door open," called Skeenan. "And don't try nothin' fancy. Unless you wanna see just how much your brother can live through."

Andy closed his eyes for a minute as his steps faltered over the threshold to the bedroom. Breathe, he reminded himself. Just breathe. He ain't gonna do anything as long as you go along.

He took another step into the bedroom, trying to keep his breath steady and his heartbeat under control. Even with the door open behind him, this was the first kind of privacy Andy had had since the whole thing began, and if he let it, the reality of everything that had happened could flood over him and bring tears to his eyes. He never wanted to choose between Slim and Jess, never thought he'd have to, but now…

He gritted his teeth and slowly picked up Slim's shaving kit where it was placed neatly among his brother's few important or treasured possessions. A comb, a small horse figurine from before Andy was born, a shiny rock. He knew that the top drawer of the dresser held letters that Slim had received in the army and in his wandering days – "shaking off the blood of the war," Ma used to call it. Andy had never read them; he wondered if he should, after…if the man did what he threatened to do. He wondered if Jess had anybody Andy would have to write to.

He lingered too long. Skeenan appeared in the doorway. "What's keeping you, kid? Your brother's face is getting awfully scratchy."

Andy followed him out of the room, hiding his trepidation and clutching the shaving cup more tightly than necessary. Slim had shown him how to shave, but he hadn't had to do it often; to his eternal chagrin, he hadn't yet managed to grow any facial hair to speak of. He wasn't sure he could do it without hurting Slim.

He set the tools carefully on the table, everything neat and precise, and mixed up the shaving cream until it was practically bubbling with foam. Then he straightened the razor, and adjusted the table, and mixed the cream again, until Skeenan finally snapped impatiently, "You want me to do it?"

"You'll do all right." Andy glanced up to see Slim smiling at him. "I trust you, Andy."

Andy smiled back, but he knew Slim was just trying to keep him steady. Which was going to be important, with a sharp blade to his brother's throat.

Slim was still as a stone as Andy dabbed the cream on his face. Hardrock, Jess called him, and Andy had never appreciated the nickname quite as much as he did right now. His big brother was stubborn enough, had enough self-control and stoniness, that he would hold still no matter what…which would make things a lot easier on Andy.

He used more cream than necessary, but he didn't want to put the brush down; he knew what would happen when he was done with the cream. Eventually, he couldn't get any more on without getting it all over Slim's clothes and the rest of the face, and he had to put the cup down and pick up the razor.

"Steady hands, Andy," came Jess's voice from behind him. "Just place the blade flat against his jaw. Heaven knows it's obvious enough."

Slim didn't say anything, but Andy thought the shaving cream might have twitched, just a little.

Andy took a deep breath. Steady hands. He'd seen Slim use the razor plenty of times, and he had used it himself, even though there hadn't been much necessity for it. He knew what to do. And he'd had plenty of practice keeping his hands steady, what with all the skittish animals he'd taken care of.

It was just that he'd never held a razor to his brother's throat before.

Slim was still as a mountain, head tilted slightly up, eyes focused on some distant point. Andy wondered if he was remembering teaching his kid brother to shave, like Andy was. He placed the razor carefully against his brother's jaw and carefully, slowly and gently and carefully, pulled it across the skin.

"That's it, nice and steady," murmured Jess from behind him.

Andy placed the razor against his brother's face again, and managed to clear another line. Bolstered, he continued with hesitant confidence. He was nervous again around Slim' chin, but he did the best he could, then gave up and wiped the rest of the shaving cream from Slim's face. It wasn't like it had to be perfect; Slim could do it himself in a few days.

Probably.

Andy stepped back from his brother, and realized just how tense his shoulders were, how air kept catching in his throat. He closed his eyes and focused on breathing smoothly. He was done, and he had done a pretty good job, all things considered.

"Not bad, kid," said Skeenan, and Andy opened his eyes to see him crouched down next to Slim. Slim, for his part, was staring forward, still as a mountain, not acknowledging the man at all but radiating fury. "Not quite perfect, but not bad." The man reached up to Slim's throat, and his fingers came away bloody.

Andy's heart lurched and he studied the ground. He hadn't thought he'd hurt Slim at all; through the whole process, his brother hadn't moved an inch, and Andy had thought that meant everything was fine. But Andy must have nicked him without noticing.

Guilt chewed into him, but when he was able to look up again, Slim was smiling. "No harm done, Andy," he said gently, and Andy knew he meant it.

But he still hated that he'd hurt Slim.

XXX

The rest of the day dragged by, a flurry of painful choices and arrogant smirks interrupted only by the incoming stage and the occasional brief moment of respite. Jess breathed a sigh of relief when Skeenan finally sent Andy into the kitchen to get supper together; after the long hours of a day that never seemed to end, the boy looked stretched beyond exhaustion, and even from a distance Jess could see dark smudges under his eyes.

As Andy started work in the kitchen, Jess turned his attention to Slim, still tied tightly to a chair and not going anywhere – but not, thankfully, too badly hurt. The shaving nick had bled some, leaving a trickle of blood that oozed into his collar, and he had a few bruises to show for Skeenan's twisted idea of entertainment, but for the most part, he was hanging in there.

Slim raised his eyebrows as Jess, silently returning the question, and Jess had to admit he wasn't doing all that great. He wasn't coughing up blood, thank goodness, and he could still move all his limbs, but it hadn't been an easy beating. His head ached, his leg rebelled every time he shifted it, and one particularly vicious kick had left his stomach begging to throw up, an urge he was still fighting off and on. He'd been doing his level best to hide the pain – Slim and Andy didn't need another thing to worry about right now – but he was pretty sure Slim knew anyway. Slim could read him like a picture book.

A pan clattered noisily in the kitchen alongside Andy's gasp and hurried shout, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! It was just an accident!"

Slim froze like stone, glaring blue fire at nothing, while Jess craned his neck for a glance in the kitchen, sick and furious. They had both heard the terror in Andy's voice. Painful, dread-infused silence followed the clanging, suffocating them in frustration and fear. Skeenan, for his part, looked remarkably unperturbed, leaning back comfortably in his chair with a rifle resting easily across his knees.

"Why are you doing this?" Jess's attention was pulled to Slim, who looked to have finally snapped. And Jess couldn't blame him; once he had his stomach under control and his hands free, he was going after Skeenan with everything he had.

Skeenan turned his attention on Slim, studying him so long and hard that Jess didn't think he was going to answer.

And then he spoke. "Do you remember Medicine Bow? About two years ago?"

Slim frowned, looking surprised and a little bemused. "I remember the town, if that's what you mean. I've been there often enough. Can't say I recognize you, though."

Their captor snorted and stroked his rifle as if longing to use it. "I didn't figure you'd remember. I guess it just wasn't that important to you." His level gaze at Slim was flinty and dark. "I guess you're feeling different now, though."

"What happened in Medicine Bow?" asked Jess. Two years was before he'd made it to the ranch, but not by much.

Skeenan's eyes stayed on Slim, but he answered Jess's question. "My gang and I had a pretty good system going. Cattle rustling. Took a little here and there, enough for a tidy profit, not enough to get any one outfit itchin' to send a posse out after us. 'Till your buddy come along."

"As I remember it," said Slim slowly, "you came after me first."

"You showed up with a large head of cattle and a small crew." Skeenan shrugged. "Couldn't resist the temptation."

"You mean you tried to rustle our cattle?" The young voice drew Jess's eyes to the kitchen doorway where Andy stood, rapt with attention.

"Ain't you supposed to be getting supper together?" snapped Jess, instantly regretting the tone, but worry was eating at him. He didn't want Andy in this man's sight while Skeenan was dwelling on whatever caused all the hate inside him.

Skeenan, though, waved a hand at Andy. "Naw, kid, you come on in. You oughta hear this – you're neck deep in it now, ain't that right, Sherman?" He leaned back and spoke to Andy. "Sure, kid, we tried it. Pretty smooth operation, too. In and out, nobody hurt, nobody seen. We figured that was the end of it."

Andy glanced nervously at his brother. "Slim came after ya?"

"We'd taken on over a dozen ranchers by then, no trouble at all," said Skeenan. "'Till some high-handed out-of-town drover kicked up a fuss."

Jess winced. From the first day he'd known Slim, the man had been hardheaded and a little too obsessed with the law, especially when it came to his property. He'd held Jess at gunpoint for taking a nap near his lake; Jess could just imagine what Slim would do to a rustler.

"You'd been stealing long before I got there," said Slim. "You had plenty of enemies by then; I wasn't the only one hunting for you."

"Yeah, but you were the one that got us." The man's eyes were bleeding poison at Slim. "Would you like to tell them how you did it?"

Slim hesitated. "Not everyone in your outfit was happy with the way things were being done. One of them had a change of heart."

Jess studied Slim curiously. His partner had told him a lot about his past, certainly more than Jess had shared with Slim. Jess knew about the war, and Slim handing out vigilante justice with Mort, and his ma and pa passing. But this was a story Slim had never shared.

"You talked him into a change of heart," Skeenan hissed. "He was happy enough until he met you. And you convinced him to turn on us."

"All I did was tell him that what he was doing was wrong," said Slim. "He chose to turn you in himself."

"Except he didn't, did he?" Skeenan's voice was quiet now, soft and dangerous, and Jess found himself tugging against the ropes even though he knew it wouldn't do any good. He knew that tone – he'd used that tone himself, time or two. And it didn't bode well for any of them.

"Why don't you tell them, Sherman?" said the man, still calm, still icy. "Tell them what you made Tommy do."

"I didn't make him do anything! Tommy made his own decisions."

Skeenan was on his feet with the gun pointed at Slim's head before Jess could even blink. Andy gasped, and Jess caught his breath. If Skeenan chose to shoot now, there was nothing they could do about it. And the barrel was pointed straight at Slim's heart. "Tell them what happened!"

Slim hesitated, but the rifle was enough to loosen anyone's tongue. "Tommy went back to the rustlers. He thought he could give us information about them, what they were planning and where they would be. For about a week, he would tell us where they were going to hit, and we'd catch one or two. We rounded up most of the gang that way. And then Tommy disappeared. We never caught any of them after that. We tried for a while, then we had to give up." He looked up at their captor. "You want to finish the story?"

Skeenan kept his gun and his glare leveled at Slim, and it looked to Jess like he was debating whether to kill Slim on the spot. "We found out it was Tommy snitching on us. When I faced him down about it, he confessed. Asked me to turn myself in. When I refused, he told me that he would turn us in himself."

"And you killed him." Jess had heard enough variations of this story to know that it always ended the same.

"He didn't think I would," said Skeenan. "Want to guess why?"

Slim breathed deeply, realization dawning in his eyes even as confusion clouded Jess's. "He was your brother."

Every sound stole away, and the four men faced each other in complete silence as the words settled around them. Suddenly, everything that had happened, everything Skeenan was doing, made sense.

"He was my brother," repeated their captor. "We were family, and you ripped us apart. For a week, my flesh and blood was betraying me. And then he made me kill him. And you're gonna feel that, Sherman." He stepped closer, rage radiating off him, fists clenching and unclenching around the rifle as if crushing Slim in his fist. "You're gonna know exactly what it feels like to have your brother betraying you."

"I'm not gonna betray Slim!" Andy stood up in the corner where he had been sitting. "And you can't make me!"

Skeenan turned on Andy, and Jess braced himself – if the hand holding the gun so much as twitched, Jess was going to fling himself into the man, and damn the consequences. But Skeenan only laughed, cold and bitter. "A little too late for that, don't you think, Andy? Remember the blindfold? The blood on your brother's neck? All them meals you been givin' to Jess here?" Skeenan shoved the muzzle of the rifle into Slim's belly, and Slim, even tied to the chair, lurched forward with an oomph. "I hear betrayal goes down hard on an empty stomach."

"Then I'm done," said Andy. "I ain't gonna be your puppet anymore, and you ain't gonna keep playing us off each other."

Skeenan's eyes darkened to yawning pits as he looked at Andy. "Then you'll die. And your friend will die, and your brother will die. But he'll die last." He turned his hate-filled eyes back on Slim. "Because I'm gonna make sure you feel what you made me feel, Sherman. You got two more days, two days to watch your brother betray you. And then you're gonna watch him die, and you're gonna know it was all your fault."