Chapter Two

Jess let the speed of his horse begin to slow as he turned the final corner above the ranch house, the hooves clopping the sound in a staccato rhythm that switched to a gentle plod as the last few steps were taken. Leaving the saddle, barely tossing the reins over the hitching rail, Jess gave a shout for his partner, as if his horse's approach hadn't been enough to let Slim know that he had arrived back home from his three day's absence delivering a cow-calf pair to a man near Cheyenne. The afternoon heat had produced an ample amount of sweat to bead across his cheeks, and as his throat felt the opposite of the moisture that clung to his outside, Jess called once more, tossed his hat to hang on the nearest corral post and then dipped his head all the way under the water in the trough, taking in a long drink of the cool water while he was underneath.

Flipping his head back, the droplets cascaded around him, giving him a short burst of rain as the remainder of the water dripped down his neck, wetting the skin under his shirt enough that damp streaks formed on the blue fabric that covered him. Figuring the response from his partner had come while his ears had been surrounded by water, Jess started for the kitchen door, his mouth already twitching at what comment Slim would soon make about his partial bath. Before he touched the knob, Jess wiped a hand across his forehead, the process taking a strip of moisture off the surface and pushing his wayward hair out of his eyes and then he stepped through, not noticing the drips he was making on the floor, or that something might have been wrong.

"Slim?" Jess stopped by the fireplace, his hands going to his hips as his eyes trailed across the empty room. "What're you doing? Sleeping the day away? Slim!"

Jess shook his head, his feet in motion again as he took the short span to the bedroom. Leaning in, seeing it at its quietest, Jess frowned, the preparedness that always ticked steadily with his heartbeat making his right hand start to inch toward his gun. An exit of the house now his priority, Jess pushed through the front door, his steps in a steady aim for the barn, but it was as if he already knew he wouldn't be finding his partner there.

Coming back out the barn door, Jess slowed when his boots came out of the shadows, his eyes running ahead of his position to search for tracks made by feet other than his own. There were stage wheel marks and the team of horses that had carried it that spoke of the noon coach's arrival and departure. Slim must have been at the house at that time, as nothing about the corral was amiss enough to merit the thought that the driver or shotgun man had done the team swapping. He could see footprints that didn't fit Slim's boot size that went as far as the hitching rail, man and woman, but the greatest surmise would have put them as passengers bound for Cheyenne or destinations farther, nothing more. Jess approached the front door of the house again, careful to stay in step with his retreating tracks, finding only one boot heel mark that didn't match, but it looked to be a day, maybe even two old.

Giving his chin a rub, Jess returned inside of the house, now going over every detail of the interior. Things seemed to be in place, but through Jess' eyes, the scene was too perfect to be trusted. The table was free from dishes and cups, even wiped clean from whatever crumbs might have drifted to its surface while meals had been eaten. There was no dust or debris on the floor, as if the broom had been put to good use that morning. But while this could have seemed normal in most circumstances, they were bachelors without a woman to take care of their needs, there should have been a mess somewhere. If there was anything positive to latch onto, it was that Slim's hat and gun belt must have been worn by his partner, for the hooks by the door were empty. Or someone wanted him to think that way.

Stepping into the kitchen, Jess saw the water marks that he had created on the floor at his first entry and then his eyes trailed upward, going right to left, looking for something he might have missed before. It was in a strange place, but he found it, and Jess' hand, in a speed that would have rivaled his quickest gun draw, reached out to grab the note pinned to the wall beside the kitchen door. Out of necessity, he searched its end before reading the message, noting that it was signed by Slim, and although the script was uncharacteristically messy, it was still close enough to know it had come from Slim's hand.

"'Harper'," Jess frowned as he began to read the note, giving his head a slight shake. "Why wouldn't Slim call me by my first name, is he mad at me about something? 'Harper, I'll be gone a few days'. Dad-gum, I don't remember him having such sloppy handwriting. Musta been in a blamed hurry. 'Had to drive the eastbound out. Get Ben to help if you need to and I'll jest see you when I get back'. Huh, he can't even spell correctly. And he joshes me about not being educated enough."

Jess threw the note aside, his steps ready to retreat back outdoors, to grumble a bit at Slim and tend to Traveler, but his foot paused before he made it through the kitchen door. He might have read the note explaining Slim's absence, but it hadn't given him ease. It was never uncommon for either partner to take over for a sick or injured stage driver, but something still felt off about the entire situation. The scrappily written note could have been explained as Slim might have been in a hurry to get in the driver's seat as there could already have been a delay in the schedule. Or was it all a sign, a hidden message within the text?

Jess turned, his eyes finding the crumpled paper and then he bent down and picked up the discarded note, letting his eyes absorb the scrawling print instead of gliding over them. By the thump that hit his chest as he started the note over, he suddenly knew what kind of sign he had been given, one better described as a warning. There had been reason for Slim's precise lettering to turn into a scribble, to help conceal the name of the man it was written for if someone sinister was staring over Slim's back. It wasn't addressed to Harper, but Jess' last name had rolled from his tongue while he read it, because his brain had registered the correct spelling even if it was wrong. The name was written as Harmer, and the added jest was thrown in just in case the first part didn't click. Slim had left the note for Jest Harmer, a name that Jess knew all too well, an alias created by a clever mind that branded him an outlaw. And in the dawning light that seemed to suddenly fill the room, Jess' thoughts quickly turned to another, because with this glaring truth, there wasn't just a target on one man's back, but an entire gang, more precisely, its leader.

"Mort," Jess said the name of Laramie's lawman aloud, his hand stuffing the paper into his pocket as he ran through the door, his foot finding the stirrup of his saddle only a moment later, hoping through the entire ride that he wouldn't be too late.

Jess' arrival in Laramie brought a few turning heads to see his rapid entry, but he didn't give them a long enough glance to see if they were chastising him or welcoming him, as either could have been a sign of trouble in itself. He pulled Traveler to a stop outside of the sheriff's office, his feet finding the sidewalk as Jess slid his body underneath the hitching rail, not wanting to waste any time in discovering if Mort had met with the same fate as Slim. Calling to Mort before he even opened the door, Jess noted the stillness before the door was all the way opened, and in that characteristic flash, the gun on his hip was now in his hand.

Crossing the room in short, but easy strides, Jess put his hand on the knob of the door that separated the jail room from the office, releasing his fingers a moment later as it wasn't latched. Someone was in there, he could hear the movement, but even if he hadn't, his senses were sharpening its points that Jess wasn't alone at the jailhouse. True, there could have been a prisoner behind bars, but the room could also have been housing an outlaw that was still free and clear, and perhaps ready to take another man hostage. Tightening his jaw as his finger was ready to pull the trigger, Jess raised his foot, the kick to the door sending it open with a loud bang, revealing another gun on the other side. But this gun wasn't in the hand of an outlaw, but being held by the sheriff himself.

"Dad-gum," Jess released a rush of air that had been held inside of his chest as Mort's surprised face gaped at him

"Tarnation, Jess," Mort slid the gun back into its holster. "What're you trying to do, get locked up or shot up?"

"I wasn't expecting you to be here," Jess said with only a hint of an apologetic tone in his voice, the rest was the concern tapping hard in his temples that tinged his words with prominence.

"Where did you expect I'd be?" Mort shook his head as he strode toward his desk, "gallivanting in a saloon somewhere? Although that might be kind of nice to do some time, I don't think the girls in there would saddle up to me like they do to you."

"I thought maybe you'd been hauled outta here," Jess answered, his eyes unable to stay stilled on one part of the room, as he needed to continually check that they weren't about to be rudely interrupted.

"By who?" Mort chuckled, "the only threat I've received lately is facing your gun just now."

"By whoever took Slim. He ain't at the ranch, but he left me some pretty good evidence as to why," Jess pulled the crinkled paper out of his pocket. The urgency expelling from Jess finally wrapped around Mort, and the frown that he had worn when Jess busted through the door started to etch back into the lines around his mouth. "It's a note Slim left for me. See what he called me? Harmer. And that 'jest' ain't no coincidence either."

"The Mort Cory gang," Mort whispered as he reached for the note, the stilling of his feet sending a quiver up his spine. He read the paper slowly, its realization ringing like a loud bell in his ears. "That was ended a couple of months ago."

"Or so we thought," Jess said, opening and closing his fists at his sides. "Someone knows about the Mort Cory gang, and that someone's got Slim, which means they're gonna be after us next. I'd probably already be hogtied someplace if I hadn't been in Cheyenne."

"You're probably right," Mort nodded, slowly handing the note back to Jess.

"But it don't make sense, though," Jess crumpled the note in his hand with a firm scrunch. "Ain't everyone responsible for the creation of our gang and those convoluted names Slim and I were given all dead?"

"I killed Boss Bates," Mort said with a sigh as he sat down on the edge of his desk, crossing his arms over his chest while his mind dug up faces with their names that he never thought would get discussed again. "Webb was killed in an escape attempt when they were jailed the first time. The kid, Ernie Monroe, was killed by a bounty hunter, and took in a fairly good coin for it, too. Everyone's gone."

"Then what's this all about?"

"I don't know," Mort shook his head and then reached for his hat, "but we better find out. Any tracks at the ranch?"

"None that I saw," Jess answered as both men's aim turned to the street. "But there could still be something to find."

"We'll start there," Mort said, nodding toward the livery. "I'll be a few minutes getting my gear and then we'll head for your place."

Leaning against the hitching post, one hand resting lightly on Traveler's reins, Jess fought the impulse to check the watch in his pocket as the time must have been stretching close to ten minutes since Mort had walked away. He didn't want to admit to the anxiousness running through his veins, but knowing that he and Mort were possibly being hunted, Jess couldn't ignore the feeling any longer. Leading Traveler away from the sheriff's office, Jess let his eyes wander back and forth across the street, trying to look into every crevice for another set of eyes watching him, but there was nothing to find. At least, not until he reached the stable, and that itself held a different definition of nothingness. The alarming kind.

"Mort?" Jess leaned into the livery, but aside from a few horses in their stalls, the barn was vacant. Perhaps the harshest part of the scene was that one of the empty stalls was Mort's, and Jess had never seen the man or horse exit the building. He was gone, and this time, he didn't need to search for an explanatory note."Dad-gum. They've got another member of the gang."

There was no question in his mind that Jess would be their next target. But when, how and where would they get him? It was as if he could feel the time ticking down, second by grueling second until ominous hands would be upon him.

…

Thanks to Heidi to pointing out my mistake with Alamo. I left Alamo at the ranch, but later wrote that Slim rode away on him. Oops! I guess it's like in the episode "The Long Riders" Slim leaves the ranch on Traveler, but in a brief scene, returns on Alamo, then back to Traveler again!