Chapter Two

Jess rolled over in his bunk, the wipe to his eyes to chase away the last of his sleep done in a repeated rub. When the blur faded to clarity, Jess blinked at the empty bed beside him. What was it now? Three days over when Slim was supposed to return?

Shoving the blanket from his body, Jess stood, his bare chest and arms immediately wearing the million dots of the morning's chill. Only allowing two slaps to his flesh, Jess grabbed yesterday's shirt from where it had been barely hanging onto the bedpost at the end of his bed. It was given a sniff, and as the aroma wasn't close enough to the kind of pungency that would discard it into the laundry pile, Jess put it on.

The buttons staying loose as he walked out of the bedroom, Jess stopped at the window and moved the curtain aside. Clouds hung low, but as of that moment, it wasn't raining. He had given the sky a check, sure, but that wasn't his reason for looking. No incoming rider.

He slapped again at his shivers before setting up the logs in the fireplace, and after the kindling was ready, Jess lit a match, the flicker spreading the moment he touched the heat to the tinder. Maybe it would have been smarter to return to the bedroom for his pants, yet Jess waited until the flames licked upward to erase the tingles of the morning. But even after the radiating glow reached his skin, sliding his hand across his belly, Jess still felt the bumps.

"Coffee," Jess said aloud, his voice strangely hollow to the empty room. "That's all I need."

He had to start a second fire, this in the cook stove, but this time while he waited for the flames to build high enough to set the kettle off to boil, Jess fully dressed. His last article was always his most important. The gun belt. Feeling the familiar weight attach to his right hip, Jess' steps angled toward the doorway when he caught his reflection in the mirror.

Instantly pausing, Jess took in his appearance. With locked jaw and a certain sturdiness of his hips, if he didn't know better, Jess would have sworn that he was seconds away from meeting a gunman. Keeping his eyes the longest on his iron, Jess' fingers squeezed the handle. There was no one outside his door that needed to see his accuracy, yet the urge was so strong, the kind of draw that gave Jess a lifelong reputation was performed. He stopped short of thumbing the hammer back, yet he gave it a gentle caress.

Head whipping away from his reflection, Jess' gun slid back home at the rider's approach. "I reckon a man's guaranteed to fall if he gets the jitters. Good thing I can put mine away now."

His stride was quick to take him outside, and with one look around the yard that didn't hold a tied mount, Jess aimed for the barn. His mouth flickering with a smile that he would have rather kept in a straight line to kid Slim about being late, Jess gave up when the tug on both corners couldn't stay flat. Who was he going to fool? Jess was grateful to have Slim back, and not so that the hardest chores wouldn't sit so heavily on his shoulders.

Hitting the line between the dark inside of the barn and brighter out, Jess' boots went into a skid to prevent the collide, but for added measure that the older man wasn't going to topple to the ground, his hands connected to both of Ben's shoulders.

"Morning, Jess. Yer kinda in a hurry."

His eyes wandered over the top of Ben's head until he saw that the only horse had come in alone. "You're not Slim."

"Nope." Ben's head was given a single shake. "Still no sign of Slim, huh?"

Now his lips didn't need to be forced into the line, as every part of Jess' face hardened. "No."

Ben chuckled. "Well, three days ain't all that worrisome. Lots'a things can happen. Horse takes up lame. Bad weather. A girl."

"Maybe." That was all Jess could offer. But when Ben cleared his throat, Jess' head tossed toward the house. "Go on inside, Ben. Might wanna get some fuel before the morning stage comes in. I didn't eat all the biscuits from yesterday."

"That's a surprise," Ben said, his throat tickling with enough laughter to release the tone off of his lips. But then at the harsh sizzling coming from the kitchen, his face sobered. "Say, Jess. Something's mighty hot in here."

Coffee. He had set it on to boil. By now it would be closer to lava. Hurrying past Ben, Jess grabbed the coffeepot, grateful that he had remembered to use a towel to the handle so that his howl didn't peel back the roof's top, not to mention what it would have done to his skin. Sugar and cream inside to take it to a tolerable level, he knew it wouldn't measure up to the best taste, yet he drank it anyhow. Anything to chase the chill away that seemed to have centered in his gut.

Biscuits being polished by only one man, Ben hesitated before he took the final bite. "You gonna tell me what's stewing you so hard?"

"Huh? Oh…" Jess shook his head. He had heard, but if what was turning around in his core was starting to show on his outside, maybe he should put his tail-end into action. If it settled things, then good. But if not… well, Jess didn't really want to answer that part. With a sudden realization that his head remained spinning, Jess held it still. "It's nothing. But I'm gonna ride into Laramie. You'll be all right here till I get back? Might be two or three stages in and out before then."

"Seems to me I've run the ranch and relay a time or ten while you and Slim were gallivanting to who-knows-where. I'll manage fine."

"Thanks, Ben."

Part of Jess wondered why he was going to this length to check on Slim when Ben was likely right. Slim tended to his mount as well as Jess did, and he had given more than the amount of time necessary to make sure a hoof wasn't going to be sore. Weather was a possibility. According to more than one stage driver, there were a few squalls that went through Laramie. Just because the ranch was spared from thunder and lightning didn't mean another part of the territory wasn't. And a girl? Not very likely where Slim was concerned. But if that was the real reason, dad-gum was Slim going to get teased when he came home with a full-figured story, or dad-gum again, a ring.

His eyes naturally turned into a search when Laramie's main street felt his horse's hooves. Not that Jess expected to make the discovery, but his gaze lingered on the mounts tied to the hitching posts outside of each saloon. None were Slim's.

Jess tried to put reason into his head with its shake. Slim was just late. Yet if Jess really felt this way, he wouldn't be walking into the telegraph office.

He motioned to the man behind the counter. "I'd like to send a wire to Ned Avery, Billings Montana. And while you're at it, the sheriff there too. I ain't sure of his name."

"Just Sheriff'll do ya fine, Jess."

Paper shoved in front of him, Jess toyed with the inkwell before putting the pen to the page. What exactly was he going to ask? Avery wasn't going to be difficult. Simply ask if Slim had been there and if so, when had he left. But with the possibility that he hadn't even made it that far north, Jess wanted to hear from the law's point of view. He decided on describing Slim, horse too, with enough positivity in his words to make sure the law knew that Slim wasn't wanted for anything other than knowing he was safe. No sense in making an unknown sheriff's eyebrows rise too much.

Finally written, Jess handed the messages to the clerk, and then the pair of coins clanked as his palm slapped them on the counter. "I'll be in town, Cy. Let me know first thing when you get a reply. Either man."

"Will do, Jess."

Stepping out of the telegraph office, Jess looked up and down the street from both directions. He didn't really want to talk, which left the sheriff's office cold. But on the other hand, Stockmen's Palace would be full of noise and the people that made them. What if one of them started leaning too close his way? He shook his head. It didn't matter. The liquid was what was calling to him.

The batwings were still swinging from his push through when Jess took the loneliest position at the bar, the far end. "Whiskey. Leave the bottle."

One down in a single swallow, his second was barely poured when he heard the clicking approach of a woman's heels. Jess cringed. On any other day he might let his charm seep out of his pores, but not now. He had already established that talk was the last thing he wanted. Especially the purring kind. Jess was just about to dart to the rear table when he felt a feminine hand work across his back and settle at his waist. Too late to run.

Jess turned his head away, but the scent of her perfume was still able to reach him. With a hard puff the fragrance went right back out of his nostrils. Even if it wasn't the headache-producing kind, he wouldn't be interested. The hand was now up to his neck. Since it appeared his stiff body wasn't conveying the message enough, Jess' brows knit together, jaw went tight, and he turned to glare at the woman to let his voice do the rest, but then his head suddenly whipped toward the batwings at the call of his name.

Well, at least he didn't have to hurt her feelings with a letdown.

Drink back on the bar's top with such intensity, more sloshed out of the glass than what had been poured into his gut. At the sound of his name in a repeat, Jess' steps had never moved so fast across a saloon's floor before, except for one of those times when he was being tossed.

He pushed the doors apart. "Over here, Cy."

"Here's your answer, Jess. It's from Ned Avery. Seems that Slim made it to Billings, all right. Delivered those two yearling heifers he had with him and left last Thursday."

He read the words that had already been dictated to him. The truth in print seemed to settle his insides more than what went into his ears. The corner of his lips parted for a tsk. "Which wouldn't make three days all that late. Well, I reckon I just go home and rib him about it. Or him me if he finds out I was snooping into his whereabouts. Thanks, Cy."

"Anytime, Jess."

Jess rode home, yet his eyes continued to search. The rest of that afternoon Jess worked alongside Ben at the ranch, yet he still listened for the sound of hooves above him. He had the answer there in his hip pocket, yet why couldn't it ease the sensation that surrounded his heart?

.:.

Jess rolled over in his bunk, the wipe to his eyes not done to chase away the last of his sleep. He hadn't slept. The repeated rub came from the aggravation building up in his core while the hours changed from dark to light. Through every breath he had waited for the familiar staccato rhythm to come down the slope and pull up at the barn. But they never did.

He stared at the bed beside him. "Dadgummit, Slim. Where are you?"

The empty reply sitting heavily on his shoulders, Jess dressed, strapping on his gun before his feet found the inside of his boots. Into the kitchen, Jess took everything needed for several days on the trail, hardtack, beans, coffee, and the last flipped his stomach over the moment he touched them, bandages. With his bedroll and jacket tucked under one arm, Jess clamped his hand onto his rifle. Walking outside, he barely gave Ben a nod before he walked a steady line to the barn.

Ben followed, yet his steps remained out of Jess' shadow. "You're leaving, eh?"

"I shoulda took off when it was just three days."

"Aw, Jess. Likely you'll just run into him on the trail and he's gonna wonder why you're there and not tending the ranch."

"If that's so, I'll take any tongue-lashing he wants to give me. At least then I'd know he was fine."

Ben's eyes lifted with Jess' frame going into the saddle. "Well, if he ain't… I mean, if there's something…"

"Yeah, I'll send a wire."

"How long do you think you'll be?"

"However long it takes to find Slim," Jess answered, and with a firm grip on the reins, man and mount had their beginning.

He would have been remiss if Jess didn't stop in Laramie. His barge into Mort Cory's office did more than swing the lawman's head his way, but pulled him right out of his chair. Since Mort already knew of Slim's prolonged absence, it wasn't difficult to read Jess' face. Neither was it going to be hard to know how it was going to change to a darker shade when Mort answered what was on Jess' mind.

Jess' eyes wandered over the surface of the sheriff's desk. "No word?"

"No."

"I don't like it, Mort. Something musta happened to him between here and Billings."

"Looks that way."

"You coming?"

"I can't go, Jess."

"What?" The snap could have been a whip's crack.

"You heard me. When the budget is too tight for a deputy, the only men I let cover for me is you and Slim. Now how can I possibly leave the town with the both of you gone? Besides, you don't know that…"

"I know, Mort." The whip smacked over the floor again, but this time there was a worried sigh accompanying the incredible sharpness. "I don't feel like I'm stuck on a bucking bronc for nothing. He ain't prone to wayfaring like I am, so he woulda sent word. Maybe he's in trouble. Maybe he's hurt."

There was a part Jess couldn't say out loud, yet it was in his head with such intensity, its shout could have echoed clear around the world.

Maybe he's dead.