A STAR TO GUIDE HIM

by Saddletramp

Pre-Laramie series. What might Jess have been like after the war? Angry, hungry, cold, and alone, he seeks shelter for his horse and himself, little knowing how events were set into motion which would change his life forever. NOTE: I had a terrible time with formatting the story this time - so if you see any obvious gaps or places where it doesn't make sense, please PM me.

A STAR TO GUIDE HIM

Pre-Laramie series. What might Jess have been like after the war? Angry, hungry, cold, and alone, he seeks shelter for his horse and himself, little knowing how events were set into motion which would change his life forever.

CHAPTER ONE

He was lost; totally and utterly lost. For a man who prided himself on knowing where he was at all times, this was a blow to his system. His original destination was North – nowhere specific, just North. He had started out with the wind to his back but now, no matter which direction he turned, that was the direction the blowing and swirling snow seemed to come from. It was only made worse by the knowledge he could see nothing further than a few feet in front of him and his horse.

Jess Harper shivered in the cold. He pulled his threadbare jacket closer around him, wishing it helped against the wind which had begun to blow. It had been cold when he started out that morning. But as the day progressed, the temperature had continued to drop, and the light snowflakes had turned into a howling blizzard. With scant cover from trees or shrubs, he and his horse were exposed to the ever-worsening elements.

He cursed having left Texas. But then, now that the war was over, there was nothing back there for him to go to. He shook his head sadly. Truth was there hadn't been anything to go back to before he'd left to join the war.

The family home lay in ashes, all but him and two siblings had perished on that awful night. He didn't know where his sister and brother were now. He'd lost track of them when he had left. That night was burned in his memory. It was where his hate came from; raged within him. He'd been at the age where he was neither a child nor a man and had watched his life, as he knew it, destroyed.

The war had done nothing to assuage his anger. Instead, it had taught him how to kill – quickly, efficiently, and without remorse. It was him against the world and he fought valiantly, completely unafraid of dying. In his mind, he was already dead, only lacking the bullet which would put a stop to his never-ending pain; his guilt over not saving his family. But the bullet which had found him served only to place him in the hands of the enemy. There, he learned one more lesson about man's inhumanity to man. He bore the scars of that experience, both mentally and physically.

But the war had ended and its aftermath had taught him new cruelty. It had been bad enough growing up being looked down upon as a poor sharecropper's son. However, it was nothing compared to the treatment he received from the triumphant Yankees. So it was that he, like so many others who had fought loyally for the Confederacy, were considered less than nothing – unworthy of even the most basic job.

But he had a gun, he knew how to use it, and he was fast; faster than most men. It began to earn him a wary respect; sometimes even a well paying job. It also brought him up against the law, chased out of many a town simply because he had a reputation. It didn't matter that he'd never robbed a bank or murdered anyone; his reputation said it all. He wasn't welcome among decent folk.

Now he was broke again. Tired and worn out, he worried more for his horse Traveler, than himself. The danged critter had carried him far and wide and had never failed him. Yet he had failed his mount. Unless there was grass for him to paw down to through the snow, his horse would be as hungry as he was. He could ignore his growling stomach. He'd learned to live on next to nothing. But his horse couldn't. His horse couldn't carry him and keep his own body heat in this weather. If he didn't find food and shelter for them, his horse would die. In this weather and without a horse, his own death was a foregone conclusion.

He shivered again, finding small comfort in his bedroll blanket now wrapped around him. Beneath him, he felt his horse's muscles quiver with cold. Little of his blanket covered Traveler and he felt bad for not being able to share. The task of carrying a rider and breaking track had put further stress on his horse, making him break into a sweat as he struggled through the ever deepening snow. Without the protective layer of air beneath a dry winter coat, his horse was slowly freezing to death.

Through the falling snow, he glimpsed a light. He hoped it was a homestead, not a town. Maybe, just maybe a homestead would allow him shelter in the barn and food for his horse. Traveler put one weary foot in front of the other, slowly drawing closer to the beckoning light. Concentrating on moving forward, Jess was unprepared for when Traveler collapsed beneath him, sending him sprawling in the knee-deep snow. Shaken, he crawled back to his horse, relieved to find that Traveler still lived and was unharmed. He forced himself to his feet. Pulling at the reins, he tried to encourage Traveler to stand up too. He'd never yelled at his horse in his entire life, but he yelled at him now, trying to stir the animal. With a groan, Traveler lumbered to unsteady feet, his head hanging low in exhaustion. Jess retrieved his blanket from where it had fallen and covered his horse. Near frozen fingers tied the ends together as best he could to keep the blanket in place. Reins in one hand and grasping the bridle with the other he led the way, breaking a path through the snow. He begged his horse to move forward, one shaky step at a time. All the while he talked softly, encouragingly, as he coaxed his horse towards the light.

He gasped with relief when a building took shape before him. It was a homestead at the edge of a town. He didn't know whether to be glad or not. He was fairly certain the sheriff would run him out of town if he were found – or put in jail just because he had no money. He didn't even have enough to buy into a poker game. He was good at poker too, often winning enough to keep him in good stead for a while. He decided to put his fate in the hands of the homeowner, overwhelmingly disappointed when no one answered his knock on the door. Desperate, he pounded on the closure, sobbing with despair when there was no sound from within.

Looking around, he pulled his collar closer, trying to capture any warmth as he shivered and his teeth chattered. He couldn't go any further. He had to get out of the wind and snow. Even a blazing fire, if he had been able to start one, wouldn't protect him from the elements tonight. He looked at his horse, the animal shivering in the cold with his head hung low, on the verge of total collapse. He knew both he and the animal would be dead by morning if he didn't find them some protection.

He made a decision then; one which went against his instincts. He never took anything from anyone without paying for it, but tonight he stole away into the barn without the homeowner's permission. There was immediate relief from the driving wind and snow. Because of the other animals sheltered there, the barn was several degrees warmer than outside. He chanced lighting a lamp – but only long enough to find a stall, food and blankets for his horse. He made his horse comfortable before taking his bedroll and burrowing into the pile of hay on the floor. Sighing in relief as the loose forage insulated him, his body began to warm, and he fell into an exhausted, deep sleep.

CHAPTER TWO

He awoke slowly, acclimating himself to his surroundings and the noises of this strange barn. He remembered now, he'd been caught in a blizzard and stumbled onto this homestead. He turned his head and fought the panic rising within him – Traveler was not in the stall where he'd left him.

It was then he heard the voice, soft and low, coming from the end of the barn. He arose, gun in hand, sidling soundlessly along the wall until he could see what was going on. What he saw brought him to an abrupt stop. A young woman, barely sixteen he guessed, sat on the floor of the large box stall. Covered in blankets, his horse lay on its side, his head cradled in the girl's lap as she stroked the brown neck and crooned softly. He almost couldn't believe his ears – Traveler was snoring.

The girl apparently sensed his presence and looked up, right at him. "Hello" she said. She didn't seem surprised to see him nor afraid of the gun he still held in his hand as she looked back down and continued to stroke the horse's neck. "We found you here last night when we got back from church. You were pretty much dead to the world and didn't even hear us. You didn't even move when Pa took the team out this morning. Your horse was in pretty bad shape so we took care of him for you. I hope you don't mind." She looked up at him again as if awaiting his approval. When he didn't say anything, she continued on. "Pa made up a hot mash for him. We moved him down here so he could lie down and have lots of room. We found a few more blankets for him too. I think he's going to be okay now. What's his name?"

"Traveler." Was all he could answer as he eased his gun back into its holster.

She had gone back to stroking the horse's neck. "I'm Tabby – actually Tabitha – but my younger brother couldn't pronounce Tabitha, only Tabby, and it stuck."

"I'm Jess – Jess Harper – pleased to meet you and thank you for what ya done for my horse."

She gently slid out from beneath Traveler's head and stood up, brushing the straw away from her jacket and skirts. Looking at Jess again, she said "Ma said for you to come to the house. She'll have breakfast ready whenever you get there. We've already eaten."

Jess just looked at her in bewilderment. "I weren't expecting no hospitality. I didn't want my horse to die and there weren't no one ta home to ask permission from." He said apologetically.

She smiled then and taking a step towards the door, beckoned him to follow her. He stopped beside the hay where he had slept, only now realizing someone had covered him with a quilt during the night. He shook his head as he bent to retrieve it. In all of his travels, no one had ever been able to get near him while he slept. It was a self-preservation trait born during the war and later honed from living on the lam, avoiding the enemy – both human and animal. Yet last night he had not only slept through the noise of the returning family and Traveler getting moved to a new stall, but he hadn't awoken when covered with the warm bedding. He felt immense gratitude to this family as he and Tabby shook out the quilt, folding it before proceeding to the house.

CHAPTER THREE

Jess stood on the threshold of a small but cozy cabin. Tabby had hung up her coat. Excusing herself, she left him alone in the room. He immediately gravitated to the fireplace wanting to absorb as much heat as possible. His body was lean and all muscle but it had been so long since he'd eaten anything decent, he had no insulating fat to keep him warm. Although much better off than the previous evening, he still felt chilled to the bone, the open fire a welcome treat. He turned upon hearing someone enter the room. The woman, he assumed Tabby's mother, was tall and willowy, a wisp of gray showing at her temples. She sat a plate, silverware, and a glass of milk upon the table.

"When you've warmed up enough, shuck your outer things and settle yourself over here. We don't stand on ceremony; you just set yourself down. I'll bring you breakfast in a moment." Then she returned to what Jess assumed was the kitchen.

She returned as Jess was hanging his coat on the coat rack. She carried plates piled high with flapjacks, ham, and eggs. He looked around, expecting someone else to join him, but there was no one else in the room. Hesitantly he approached, uncertain that such a bounty was really meant for him.

"Sit down. Sit down." She encouraged him, gesturing at the table. "I don't want it to get cold on you." She stopped suddenly; her eyes fixed on the low-slung gun on Jess' hip, and then gently suggested he might want to hang it up by the door, as guns were not allowed at the table.

Embarrassed, Jess apologized profusely as he removed his gun belt, hanging it alongside his coat. She smiled, nodding in approval before returning once more to the kitchen. Jess hesitated to dig into the food before him, feeling he needed to wait for his host or hostess to join him. When the woman returned, she brought with her cups and, to Jess' delight, a huge pot of coffee. It was the first thing he partook of, thoroughly enjoying the taste and feel of the hot liquid sliding down his throat. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a cup of coffee. He savored every sip of it, unconsciously sighing with satisfaction.

Hearing him sigh, the woman immediately refilled his cup before forking huge amounts of food onto his plate, indicating for him to dig in. "Tell me, Mr. Harper, whatever caused you to be out in that storm last night?"

Between mouthfuls of food, Jess responded. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but you've got me at a disadvantage. Your daughter only introduced herself by her first name. I've no idea how to address you."

The woman smiled and patted his arm. "Maude, young man, I'm Maude Jenkins. You met my daughter Tabby. Sooner or later you'll meet her brother Ronny and my husband Thomas. They're in town right now, checking on the townsfolk - making sure they weathered the storm okay. It came on suddenly and many were caught unprepared. Which brings me back to my question; what were you doing out in that storm?"

"I got lost. Ain't never been lost my whole life. I was heading north and got turned around in the storm. I couldn't find shelter so just kept moving on, hoping I'd find a lee, cave, or something to break the wind. But there weren't nothing." He shoved a forkful of food into his mouth, following it with a swig of coffee. Swallowing, he continued on. "I thought we was goners but then I spotted your light. " He paused, thoughtful for a moment. "It was so bright – just shining through the pitch black night, and the blowing snow. I prayed it was a house or a town or something where we could find shelter." He took another bite before beginning once more. "Me and ole Traveler, he's my horse, well we was just about done in. He'd already fallen and it took all I had to get him back on his feet. I kept encouraging him and I led him and broke trail for him." Once again he paused to feed himself.

"Why didn't you leave him when he fell – come on ahead and get help?" She asked.

Jess looked at her in surprise. "I couldn't no more leave him behind any more than I would a human. That horse has carried me many a mile, through thick and thin. He's saved my hide more times than I can count. 'sides, I had no idea what the light was, how far away it was, if there would be any help, or even if I could find my way back to him again." He returned to his plate of food.

Maude continued to study him as he cleared his plate. The threadbare clothes hanging on his nearly gaunt frame told her volumes. Here was a young man who cared more for his horse than his own well being. When Thomas had returned from stabling their team the previous evening, he had told her how the horse had been well taken care of and that there was a stranger sleeping in their barn. Making a decision, she arose and left the room. A few minutes later she returned carrying a stack of clothes. Patting them with satisfaction she set the pile down beside Jess. "These were my son Raymond's clothes. You look about the same size. You are welcome to them."

Jess eyed the heavy winter coat that topped the pile. It was blue and sheepskin lined. He knew it would be warm – probably the warmest thing he'd had in a long time – and he wanted it desperately. But he couldn't take another person's clothes. Looking at Maude, he shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am, I can't accept them. I didn't do nothin' to earn them and ain't got no money to pay for them. 'sides, won't your son be needing them?"

Maude looked sad for a moment before answering. "Raymond didn't come home from the war. He won't need them."

Jess was momentary embarrassed before expressing his apologies. Maude smiled then and insisted he take the clothing. Any further discussion was interrupted by a flurry of cold air entering upon the door opening. A young boy, perhaps around the age of 10 and a man, Jess assumed was Mr. Jenkins, entered, shaking the snow off their clothes. The boy was the spitting image of his father right down to his red hair. Jess watched cautiously as the boy took his coat off and hung it beside the door. He was poised on the edge of his seat, prepared to leap into action as the boy started to reach out to touch the gun hanging there, but the boy's father's curt words stopped him.

"Ronny," the man said sternly, "You know better. Out here you don't touch another man's gun without his permission." Ronny pulled his hand back and stared at the floor for a second before turning to Jess.

"I'm sorry, mister. It's just that I never seen a gun look like that before."

"It's all right, boy. No harm done."

Seeing Jess at the table, the man stepped forward, his hand held out for a handshake, his face was unreadable and his voice neutral. Jess wasn't sure he was with friend or foe.

"I'm Thomas Jenkins. I see Maude has taken care of you." He said indicating both the pile of clothing and the near empty food platters.

Jess rose, extending his hand to his benefactor. "Yes, sir, she certainly has taken care of me. My name is Jess – Jess Harper. I never expected to be welcomed for stealing away in someone's barn. I was fully expecting to wake up with a shotgun aimed at my middle."

"You almost were." Thomas said seriously, as he turned to hang up his coat. "We've had problems with interlopers, thieves taking whatever they wanted. Make no mistake; I considered fetching Sheriff Tucker when I found you in my barn. But I could tell you hadn't touched anything except what you needed for your horse. No outlaw, no one who might do us harm, would take care of his horse first with nothing for himself. You are mighty lucky it was late and the storm raging or I just might have fetched the Sheriff anyways."

Jess had the grace to feel awkward. He hadn't taken much – only enough to feed Traveler and cover him with blankets. Yet he knew what he had done went against his upbringing. His only excuse was that it saved him and his horse from certain death. He wasn't sure how badly he had crossed the line between right and wrong.

When Thomas turned back towards the table, Jess didn't know what to think. To his surprise, Thomas wore a clerical collar. Thomas was tall and lean, muscular like someone who worked hard for a living, and he moved with the grace of an athletic man. He was nothing like the preachers he'd encountered in his life. Thomas motioned for Jess to sit back down, rounded the table to kiss his wife, before settling into a chair opposite Jess. Ronny hung out at the back of his father's chair, watching Jess intently, apparently fascinated by their visitor. Maude brought another cup and poured her husband a coffee, smiling as she refilled an obviously appreciative Jess' cup. Jess murmured his thanks.

Thomas studied Jess across the table. It was a long, steady stare, which made Jess uncomfortable. But he held steady under the scrutiny. After all, he was an uninvited guest, and had done what he had out of necessity. He still wasn't sure where that lay in terms of potential forgiveness. Thomas would be well within his rights to have him arrested for theft and trespassing.

"If you don't mind my asking," Thomas began, "but what were you doing out in that storm? You're not from around here are you?"

"No, sir. I got lost in the whiteout, lost my bearings. I thought my horse and I weren't going to survive until I saw the light from your window. Without that to guide me, I'm afraid you'd have found my body out there somewhere come spring."

Jess caught the look that passed between Thomas and his wife. "What? Did I say something wrong?" he asked, confused and agitated.

Thomas cleared his throat. "You say you saw a light – coming from our house?"

Jess nodded. "Ya. Like I told the Mrs. – it was real bright. It's how I got here. I followed that light until I stumbled onto your buildings. I pounded on the door but no one answered. I'm sorry I intruded on your property and stole away in your barn, but I was desperate – and there weren't no one to ask permission of."

Thomas and his wife exchanged looks again. Jess looked back and forth between them, not understanding. He didn't like the weird feeling building in his stomach. Seeing that Jess was uncomfortable, Thomas changed subjects. "What do you plan to do now?" he asked.

Jess thought for a moment. "Well, if you ain't gonna have me arrested;I intend to pay for what I took. I only took enough to feed my horse – and I owe you for the meal, of course. I'm strong and a hard worker. You got any chores around here that need doing, I'm more than glad to lend a hand. But I ain't got no money, so I'm going to have to be finding a job that pays – or a stake for a good poker game that I can parlay into some winnings. Then I'll be on my way."

Thomas remained silent as he continued to study Jess. Jess knew he was being sized up – but for what he wasn't sure. He sure hoped it wasn't a noose – but then they didn't hang people for trespassing – or did they? He was fairly sure he'd be found lacking and at the very least sent packing. He knew Thomas had seen his gun on the peg by the door. Even someone unfamiliar with firearms couldn't mistake the slick holster and altered gun. Another look passed between Thomas and Maude before Thomas nodded slightly. Jess stood, knowing he had been found lacking in whatever criteria Thomas was judging him by. In spite of owing the family for the meal and clothes, he also knew he was no longer welcome. It was time for him to hit the road again.

"Sit down." Thomas commanded quietly. Not usually one to answer to another man, Jess found himself settling back into his chair. A slow anger began to burn as Thomas continued his scrutiny. Jess' ire was up as he locked looks with Thomas. No one was going to put Jess Harper down – not even someone to whom he owed a debt. Finally, Thomas spoke.

"You won't be going anywhere. . . "He held up a hand to stop Jess' angry rebuttal. "All of the roads except what's between here and town are snowed in. No one will be going anywhere for a few days, maybe even a week." Thomas continued to take the measure of the angry man seated across the table from him before him before seeming to come to a decision.

"Tell you what." He began. "You stick around here for a little bit and help out – say just until the roads open up. You can't go anywhere anyways. I'll need to be busy in town and I don't like leaving Maude and Tabby out here alone. The winter has been bad enough, but now with this storm, people are going to be in need of help. The Town Council is already working on bringing the outlying farmers into town and putting them up at the hotel. Families are sharing what they can. No one expected winter to be this harsh or this long. We've a long time to go until spring and there is a real possibility that many people will starve if we can't find game to shore up what little the town has."

Jess looked at the near empty table guiltily. Mrs. Jenkins had provided a lavish meal for him – a stranger – and with supplies they probably couldn't have spared.

Thomas apparently didn't notice the look on Jess' face as he continued on. "There is little I can do medically, but I can be of comfort to those in need and coordinate the food distribution. It would be best if you stayed out of town until things settle down. The residents might not take kindly to a new stranger in our midst. They aren't trusting folk and the town has already seen its share of scavengers and looters. The Sheriff is doing the best he can, but he's only one man. It is going to get worse before it gets better. Having an extra set of hands around here would be most helpful; especially knowing my family is safe when I can't be here. I can't pay much, but we can provide bed and board for both you and your horse."

Jess' anger abated as he relaxed and leaned back in his chair. Thomas was offering him a job, a roof over his head and food to eat. He couldn't ask for much more than that. Rubbing his now full stomach, he knew he would have stayed to help even if they couldn't pay him. Grinning broadly, Jess reached a hand across the table to Thomas. "Deal. You won't be sorry." was all he said as they shook hands.

CHAPTER FOUR

Thomas didn't need to tell Jess what to do as Jess immediately began finding what work needed doing. They had objected to him continuing to sleep in the barn, offering him their extra room instead. Drifting out in the Big Open on his own, he'd spent his fair share of nights sleeping on the ground or in a stable's hayloft. A bed was a luxury he'd rarely had. Their kindness was more than he could ever have asked. He worked hard to be worthy of their trust and generousness.

With Thomas gone much of the time, from that day forward, the wood for the stove and fireplace never ran low. In the mornings, Jess fed the horses, milked the cow, and cleaned the stalls before the rest of the family was awake, only coming in to eat breakfast when called. He repaired the broken harnesses, shod the horses that needed them and organized the barn.

Although the winter continued on, the roads become passable again. The Jenkins extended their offer for him to stay a while longer. The days turned into weeks as the calendar slowly crept forward. The bitter cold continued and with it, came more starvation and death. Through it all, even in the darkest night and brightest of daytime, Jess was aware of an unusual light in the sky – one which called to him. Figuring everyone would think him crazy, he never mentioned it to anyone.

Jess had been chopping wood when Thomas joined him at the woodpile. He seemed thoughtful for a moment before speaking.

"Jess." He began. "I need your help."

Jess dropped the axe into the chopping block, waiting for Thomas to continue.

"There's trouble, Jess." He said. "Food is getting even more scarce in these parts. The looting and scavenging has gotten worse. Sheriff Tucker can't seem to get a handle on the vagabonds. It's like they know where he'll be at any given time and strike somewhere where he isn't. He can only do so much. They've hit several places, including just down the road from us. It isn't always just for food – now they're after anything they can get their hands on." He hesitated before continuing on. "Jess, I'm afraid for the women. Ronny's too young for that responsibility. I can't always be here to protect them – not that I'd be much help anyways. All I got is my hunting rifle. But you – you're used to handling a gun – know when to use it and when not to."

Jess looked guiltily at his gun hanging nearby. So, Thomas knew what he was. Before Jess could say anything, Thomas continued.

"Yes, Jess. I know what you are – or were – I'm not sure which it is. I've known since the first morning you sat at my table. I'd seen your gun hanging by the door and I knew what it meant – what you might be. I also knew you might be running from the law. That's why I wouldn't let you go to town. But I am also a good judge of men. You were kind, gentle, and respectful. Not that a cold-blooded killer can't be those things too, mind you, but they can't keep up the pretense. You have lived up to my expectations and more. I'm glad you agreed to stay."

He hesitated once again before looking directly at Jess. "I'm asking you to stay here on the farm, not leave the farm at all. No hunting. Don't leave the women alone – ever." He was gripping Jess' shoulders. "I need to know someone is here protecting Maude, Tabby and Ronny." He was gently shaking Jess now, pleading. "Please, Jess, say you'll stay, protect my family when I can't be here. "

Jess didn't have to think twice about it before saying yes; he'd stay and protect Thomas' family. He could see the relief written all over Thomas as he thanked him. However, with a sigh, Jess looked up into the sky, feeling the pull of the light, knowing it carried some meaning that he couldn't fathom.

Thomas followed Jess' gaze, seeing only clear sky and shook his head.

"You can still see it, can't you?" he asked.

Puzzled, it took Jess a moment to realize Thomas was referring to the light he kept seeing in the sky.

"Jess," He'd said, his eyes compassionate as only a preacher's can be. "You said you followed a light the night you came to our house."

Jess nodded in the affirmative, puzzled by Thomas' demeanor.

"Son, I don't know how to tell you this." He paused, searching for the right words. "But the night you came to us, there was no light on in the cabin."

Jess started to argue – he knew he had followed a light. It was the only reason he had found safety.

"Now don't go getting all twisted out of sorts." Thomas exclaimed. "I believe you. I believe you saw a light and it guided you to our home. You weren't meant to die out there, Jess." He said sweeping his arms to encompass the whole of the outdoors

"God has something better in mind for you and he guided you to our doorstep. I don't know what it is and you most likely don't know either – but He has a plan and will guide you." He paused for a moment before continuing. "There is a saying we have out here. We believe people come into our lives when they are needed. They stay in our lives as long as they are needed. And they leave our lives when they are no longer needed." He paused again, letting his words sink in. "I can't see your light Jess, but I know it is there. Trust it. It is your star and it will guide you to your destiny - to where you belong – your home."

Jess wasn't sure he believed the "guiding light" story, but he did know that the light was always there. It called to him and he itched to follow it. In spite of how much he liked the Jenkins and the home they had provided, he knew the day would come when he would ride away.

CHAPTER FIVE

Afternoons would find Jess in the barn, grooming the various horses. As always, he talked to them while he brushed them, his deep voice soothing to the animals. He wasn't surprised when Tabby began joining him as he set about his chores. She'd sit on a bench, out of his way, and they'd talk. Tabby wanted to know about the world outside their town, where he had been and what he had done. Always reticent to talk about his past, Jess told her of the nicer places he had been and what he had seen, keeping the darker and personal details to himself. She was too young and innocent to hear about his experience during the war and his treatment in the Yankee POW encampment. She didn't need to know the details of how he had acquired the numerous scars his body carried because of the life he'd led. He wouldn't tell her of the towns he had been run out of simply because he carried his weapon low and was fast – faster than most other men. He wouldn't tell her about the men he had killed. It wasn't something he cared to brag about, regretting the lives he had taken in his own defense. And she didn't need to hear about the anger burning within him, driving him to right the wrong done to his family so many years ago. He was no good and he knew it. She was sweet and innocent, a girl on the verge of womanhood. He couldn't understand how decent folk like the Jenkins family had allowed him to stay under their roof. He knew it would come to no good one day. Trouble followed him and he would bring that trouble down on the Jenkins.

No, he kept the stories interesting and for the most part honest. It was during these afternoon conversations when he learned that, like himself, Raymond had been a few years older than Tabby. He'd left to join the war and never came back. Tabby missed her older brother and began to see Jess as his replacement. Jess didn't mind because it kept things simple between them, allowing him to enjoy her company. She reminded him of his sister whom he hadn't seen in many years. That is, things were platonic until the day Tabby fell off the ladder.

Bored with sitting on the bench and watching Jess work, Tabby began to amuse herself, deciding to climb the ladder into the hayloft. Jess warned her that there was a weak rung that he hadn't had time to fix. But she ignored him, continuing to climb until her foot stepped onto the rung and it broke. She lost her grip on the ladder, pitching backwards, her scream filling the air.

Jess threw down his grooming tools as he dove to break her fall. He caught her in mid-air, their combined weight and momentum tumbling them over one another as they landed in the hay pile. They stopped with Jess facing Tabby, their arms around each other, looking with surprise into each other's faces. Jess looked down at Tabby lying breathless in the hay and gently removed some wisps from her hair. He wasn't prepared for the wanton look that came into her eyes, nor his reaction to it. He kissed her. She was eager and her lips were sweet against his. He'd only meant for it to be a one-time kiss. But the way she kissed him back spoke volumes. Her response could not be denied, and their chance kiss escalated into desire as he repeatedly crushed her lips with his. Their hands sought the intimacy of each other's bodies. He didn't even notice when she pulled his shirt free. Desire burned hotter as her hands caressed his bare skin. Jess came to his senses when Tabby's fingers reached for his belt buckle. Breathing heavily, he pulled himself away. Self-consciously running a hand through his hair, he stood up, turning away as he tucked his shirt back into his pants, refastening his belt.

Jess was angry when he turned back to Tabby – angry with himself for losing control and angry at Tabby when she remained lying languidly in the hay. She reached for him, her low purr of contentment striking a cord within him. He didn't know if she really intended to seduce him or whether she was play-acting something she had read in one of her novels. He was too much older and she was too young to be acting this way, not realizing the effect she had on him. He pulled her to her feet, his anger obvious as he held her away from him even when she pouted longingly, reaching for him again. Her voice was thick with desire as she spoke his name, begging him to make love to her.

"No." he stated unequivocally. "This ain't right. I owe your parents a deep debt. They took me in when I had no money and nowhere to go. I can't, no I won't, betray their trust." He was still breathing heavily himself. "Until a few moments ago, we'd been like brother and sister. Only I ain't your brother and you sure ain't my my sister. You ain't old enough to be acting like this."

Tabby stamped her foot. "I'm 16 years old!" she shouted at him. She tried to strike him, but he held her wrists as she spat out. "I'm old enough to be married and start a family of my own."

Jess released her and jammed his hat back onto his head. "You may be 16, but you don't know what you're doing. Girl, you're playing with fire when you come onto a man like that. I'm too old for you. You act like that with the wrong man and there's going to be someone who will take you up on your offer, only you'll be sorry. No, you deserve it done right – a husband and home of yer own. You deserve more than a roll in the hay with a man who has nothing to offer." He shook his head no when she started to protest. He was shaking his head, motioning between them. "But this," he said, "this ain't never gonna happen again. I ain't for you and you best not be thinking you can change that. I owe your family a great debt for taking me in the way they done. I'll not betray their trust." He paused for breath, noting she was on the verge of tears. "You'd best clean yourself up and get to the house. I won't have either of your parents thinking we been doing something we ain't."

There was an obvious strain between Jess and Tabby that night at the supper table. Immediately after finishing his meal, Jess took himself off to the barn for night chores. By the time he returned to the house, Tabby had retired to her room for the night.

Sitting in his rocking chair by the fire, Thomas looked at Jess strangely, yet said nothing for a while. Finally, folding the paper he was reading, he spoke without looking in Jess' direction. "You two have an argument?"

"Something like that." Answered Jess as he continued to braid the rein he was working on.

"She's still young in the ways of the world. Don't blame her for thinking she's in love with you. She's never experienced real love yet."

Jess' head jerked up, a slight blush climbing up his face as he turned to look at Thomas who smiled knowingly. "I've seen it growing. You're one of the first outsiders she's met. To her, you are infinitely more exciting than the local boys." He held up his hand when Jess began to protest. "Oh, I know – you haven't encouraged her. You don't need to. She's got stars in her eyes." He drew on his pipe before continuing. "When the time comes to break her heart, make it a clean break. Don't leave her dreaming that it can end differently."

Jess could only nod guiltily and return to working on the reins.

CHAPTER SIX

The deep cold was often broken by days of very warm weather. Snow melted and re-froze. The local lakes began to thaw only to freeze back over as temperatures dropped again. Yet the winter seemed unending. As food became scarce, the cold and near starvation began to claim more town members. Although a group of men had ventured out to neighboring towns, they had returned empty handed. Even the outlying villages were suffering the same lack of food and other supplies.

The Jenkins' home became busy with preparing food for the sick and those in need. The Jenkins shared what little they had, making soups to extend their diminishing supplies. Thomas had reported looting in town and the sheriff had his hands full trying to keep peace. Jess was relieved when Tabby was kept busy helping Mrs. Jenkins in the kitchen. With her thus occupied, he was able to complete his chores without interruption or creating any awkward situations.

When Mrs. Jenkins asked Jess to fetch a ham from the storeroom, he was dismayed at how little meat remained in their larder. Although he had gone hunting, the game had become harder and harder to find. Later that night Mr. Jenkins accepted his offer to go hunting again, saying he'd stay home to watch over his family until Jess returned. Even if Jess didn't find any deer, he hoped to find some wild turkeys or rabbits. When a person is hungry, meat is meat, and he had no intention of the Jenkins going hungry if he could help it.

Jess had already bagged two large turkeys and was following a set of deer tracks when he heard the noise. The sound of ice cracking resounded through the still air like a rifle shot, followed by a splash and a strangled cry for help. Jess spurred Traveler towards the sound, horrified to see an open hole in the lake's ice and young Ronny floundering in the freezing water. Dismounting, Jess grabbed his lasso. Knowing the ice would never take his weight, he threw his rope, landing it close to Ronny. Ronny had only been in the water a short time but he was already becoming numb and couldn't grasp the rope or maneuver the rope around himself.

Desperate, Jess pulled the rope back to shore. He led Traveler as close to the edge of the lake as possible. Tying the free end of the rope to his saddle, Jess dropped the looped end around his own chest. Crawling on his belly, Jess inched his way towards Ronny, fearful that at any moment the ice would give way beneath him, plunging him into the icy water along with the frightened child. Ronny's movements were becoming more and more sluggish until he no longer responded to Jess' encouragement.

Jess reached the opening in the ice and tried to snag the now motionless Ronny's coat, only to find his reach mere inches short of grasping the boy. He strained to close the gap between them, knowing time was running out. Just as his gloved fingers brushed Ronny's jacket, the ice beneath Jess let loose, plunging him into the freezing water. Jess fought to the surface, gasping as he tried to suck air into his lungs. It was as if a steel band encompassed his chest preventing him from breathing. He was immediately chilled to the bone, his teeth chattering. His wet clothes weighed him down and hindered his movements. Unable to reach Ronny with his hands, Jess wrapped his legs around the boy's near lifeless body and drew him toward the hole's edge. Desperately he grabbed onto Ronny's coat, locking his freezing fingers between the buttonholes, grasping anything of substance to hold onto.

Teeth chattering incessantly, he called to Traveler to back. Slowly, painfully, he felt the rope tighten around his chest as he was hauled towards the shore. He kept calling for Traveler to back and his horse obeyed. The ice broke under their combined weight as Traveler continued pulling the two of them until they reached the shore's safety. Jess tried and failed to pull the frozen gloves off his hands. He could tell Ronny was still breathing, although he remained unresponsive. Through shear willpower, Jess forced himself to his feet, dragging Ronny up with him. Jess was grateful that Ronny was only a 10 year old because he doubted he could have helped a grown man up onto Traveler. When he tried to mount up behind Ronny, he found he couldn't put his foot into the stirrup and his legs slowly gave out beneath him. Lying on the ground looking up at his horse, Jess did the only thing he could do. He commanded Traveler to go home. Traveler nuzzled his master before gingerly carrying his precious rider to the only home he knew – the stable where he was fed and sheltered.

Jess' eyes were open but he felt nothing. Above him, the star continued to shine. It seemed to reach down and touch him. It shone with the same brilliance as the night it had led him to the Jenkins' home. It seemed like a lifetime ago that his life had changed. It called to him as warmth filled his body and his eyes slowly closed.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The heat was stifling. He fought the hands holding him down, seeking to escape both the heat and the restraint. "Let me go!" he cried out. "I gotta get to 'em. I gotta save 'em.!" He struggled, his mind seeing his home burning."The babies!" he cried out. "I gotta save them. Francie, Johnny – run. Run far away. Hide. Hide where they'll never find you. Run – Now. I've got to try to save the babies." He struggled against unseen hands "Let me go! I gotta save them!"

Strong hands held him – held him back as he labored to save his siblings before collapsing in defeat. "I'm sorry!" he sobbed. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you. Please forgive me. Please." He begged as his struggles slowly lessened and tears streaked his face.

He could hear someone talking. Who? Doctor? What Doctor? Who was that woman? Ma? It couldn't be ma – ma died in the fire. Yet he cried out to her. "Ma! I'm sorry Ma. I couldn't save them! It shoulda been me! It shoulda been me." Gentle hands eased him back against his pillows and soothed his brow as he continued to beg forgiveness at failing to save his siblings.

He felt a cool cloth placed upon his forehead, but the blankets covering him were heavy and he still felt his skin afire. In his delirium, he pulled at the nightshirt covering him, seeking relief from the oppressing heat he felt. He fought for every breath, feeling the rattle in his chest.

Lung fever. That's what he'd heard the unknown voice call it. Had that been real or was he dreaming? Was he alive or was he dying? Why was he so hot even though his body shivered? Why did it hurt to breathe, every breath causing pain to course through him? His head rolled back and forth, dislodging the cool cloth, as he struggled, seeking relief.

As if far away, he could hear a woman trying to sooth his anxiety, softly assuring him he would be all right, but he had to rest. His mind tried to recognize the voice, to comply. But his body was now cold. He was shivering uncontrollably and he was suddenly beside the lake, seeing Ronny struggling in the icy water.

"The lake!" he cried out, fighting to arise from the bed. "I gotta save Ronny. He's in the lake! He's drowning! Ronny – nooooo – grab the rope boy, grab the rope! Wake up, Ronny, wake up!" Jess was rolling back and forth in a desperate attempt to escape whatever was holding him down and save the Jenkins' son. Mrs. Jenkins' voice finally broke through his delirium.

"Jess," her voice penetrated his feverish mind. "Ronny's safe. He's home and all right. You saved him Jess, you saved him." She rearranged the blankets again. "Rest, Jess. That's all you need to do. You are the one who needs the care now. Just rest, it'll all be just fine."

Jess' mind finally understood and his body went limp, all fight gone from him. He felt his head being raised and a cup placed against his lips; tasted the bitter liquid as it slid down his throat before losing himself in sleep.

It was daylight when he awoke again. He didn't know how long it had been since the day at the lake. He knew he was weak and must have been really ill. His chest still hurt when he breathed, but he knew where he was and looked around the bedroom with gratefulness. Once again, he was indebted to the Jenkins for their kindness. He knew they were busy with the town folk and someone having to look after him must have stressed their already stretched resources.

It was Mrs. Jenkins who entered his room, caring a tray. She smiled when she saw him awake. Setting the tray down, she felt his face. "Your fever has broken. How are you feeling?

Jess squirmed a little under her scrutiny, pulling the covers up over his chest even though he was fully covered. "I'm fine." Was his natural reply, which brought a frown onto the woman's face.

"Now you just tell me the truth." She chastised him. "I need to know where you are hurting. Your breathing is better. It'll take a few days but you will be fine – I just don't think you are there yet."

Jess grinned. "I'm sorry, Ma'am." He said, wiping a hand across his forehead. "I'm not used to anyone fussing over me. I'm much obliged. I sure didn't plan on bringing your family all this trouble when I sought refuge in your barn."

"Nonsense." Came her answer. "Why, having you here has been a blessing. You have helped Thomas with so much of the work around here, letting him tend to his parishioners. He's needed in town, helping with the sick and starving. It is his calling, what he needs to be doing. With you here, he can go about his obligations without worrying over us. And Ronny – my gosh you saved Ronny." She stopped for a moment and looked away. He could hear her stifle a sob. "If you hadn't been here . . ." she let the sentence drop off. Keeping her face averted, she fluffed his pillows. She sat down beside the bed, handing him a bowl of chicken broth. "Doctor said you need to drink this to regain your strength. You'll be bed ridden for a few more days. When you do go outside, you'll have to be careful you don't get a chill or get wet again. We don't want your lung fever returning."

Jess swallowed the broth, wiping a hand across his mouth as he handed the bowl back to her. "Don't worry about that." He said. "I sure don't think I care to bathe in that lake again, that's for sure."

He immediately regretted his words when he saw how they affected her. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

She patted his arm. "No. No. – You're fine. I just keep thinking about what might have happened if you hadn't been here. Your star must have brought you to us for this reason. You were meant to be here to save Ronny." She said quietly. She watched him turn away from her, a deep sadness in his eyes.

"Where was that star when I tried to save the little ones?" he whispered bitterly – more to himself than to Mrs. Jenkins, not realizing she had heard.

"The little ones?" she questioned. "When you were feverish you kept calling out for Francie and Johnny. Are they the little ones?"

Jess stared at her before turning his head away once more. He was bent on telling her nothing, the pain of his loss too great to bear. But the words slowly slipped out of him.

"No. They're my sister and brother. The little ones, well, they didn't survive the fire." He turned to her, anger burning inside him as he nearly shouted. "It's my fault they're dead. I couldn't get to them. Someone held me back, kept me from saving them." He shook his head and looked at his hands as if he could still feel the burns upon them. Then more quietly he continued. "They wouldn't let me go back in. I got Francie and Johnny out but I couldn't get the rest." He turned away from her then, not wanting her to see the tears glistening in his eyes.

A tender hand touched his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Jess. I didn't mean to bring up bad memories. I know . . . I know it is of little comfort, but whoever held you back from re-entering a fire was right. You might have perished yourself."

He turned back to her again angrily. "I should have! I should have died with them! It ain't right to lose your whole family in one night."

She was silent for a moment before asking. "How old were you at the time?"

"Fifteen. Old enough to have done better." He spit back, not looking at her.

He didn't see her shake her head before she answered. "No, Jess. You were just a boy yourself." She shushed his angry reply, a gentle hand resting on his shoulder before stroking the hair on his head; a motherly gesture which comforted him. "Listen to me, Jess. You may have felt the pressure to be a man, but you were still a boy, too young to feel that type of responsibility. It isn't your fault you couldn't save them. You need to forgive yourself." She waited a moment before going on. "This Francie and Johnny – where are they now?"

"I don't know." He was staring at the far wall. "Last I knew they were with my cousin's family. I lit out as soon as I healed enough. I meant to track down those no goods who set our home on fire and killed most of my family."

"And did you find them?"

He shook his head no. "No. I got caught up in the war. I'm still tracking them. One day our paths will cross and I'll even the score for them that can't."

She patted his arm as she rose and picked up the tray. "Forgive yourself, Jess, you did all you could. You rest now. I'll check back in on you later."

Jess turned enough to watch her exit the room. Sadness, anger, and fatigue combined as he slipped into a restless slumber.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Jess awoke to find Ronny stretched out beside him, head on Jess' shoulder and arm flung across his stomach. Jess smiled and drew the boy close. With a contented sigh, Ronny nestled comfortably into Jess' embrace. When Jess was awake, Ronny was by his side. Neither of them spoke about the time Ronny had fallen into the icy lake nor of Jess' subsequent illness from rescuing him. It wasn't unusual for Jess to wake up finding Ronny had crawled into bed with him during the night.

As Jess began to be up and getting around, Ronny was his constant shadow. He idolized Jess, mimicked his movements, and was fascinated by Jess' revolver. That part worried Jess. Having caught Ronny handling his gun a couple times, Jess took to locking it up where Ronny couldn't get to it. However, he had to wear it for day-to-day activities, taking care to keep it away from the curious child. He knew it wasn't his right to teach Ronny anything about handguns. That was Thomas' job if he chose to do so. Jess knew they only had the old hunting rifle and Thomas had taught Ronny how to handle it properly. Ronny was a fair shot with the antiquated weapon, but Jess figured the handling of a six-shooter wouldn't be in Ronny's schooling anytime soon. He, himself had used a rifle as soon as he could hold it without falling over.

But he had been more than fifteen years of age before he got his hands on a handgun, learning to use it with speed and accuracy. He'd paid for carrying the modified weapon; leaving a string of dead men in his wake – men who had challenged him and lost; the men whose deaths still weighed heavily upon him. It was no kind of life to lead and he didn't want Ronny following in his footsteps. His life had been forced upon him by circumstances beyond his control. He knew firsthand how carrying a sidearm had shaped his life. Ronny had a good family and a good life. Carrying a six-shooter shouldn't be in his future. Jess made sure he discouraged Ronny's fascination and desire for a handgun.

As Jess grew stronger, he spent more and more time outside, catching up on the chores. Ronny still accompanied him whenever possible; learning anything Jess cared to teach him. Jess had seen how Thomas came home late every night exhausted and falling into bed without supper. He had overhead Thomas telling Maude how the looting was reaching a new level of violence. He silently renewed his vow to protect the Jenkins family in Thomas' absence.

More than once, he had seen men riding across the back of Thomas' property. They hadn't come near the house but there was always a time when it could happen. Jess made sure he was never far from the house. He was bringing in wood the day the Sheriff's Deputy had ridden into the yard.

They sized each other up within moments. The Deputy was a slug of a man – if he could even be called that. His tobacco stained teeth showed when he spat tobacco juice at Jess' feet before grinning knowingly. He'd told Jess that he needed to be moving on. In a round-about way he accused Jess of being one of the thieves raiding the local ranches, using the Jenkins as a cover for his illicit activities. The deputy grinned with an evil smirk as he acknowledged he didn't have any proof of Jess' involvement, but there would be plenty should Jess ignore the suggestion to move on. It was then Tabby chose to exit the barn, heading towards the house. Jess didn't like the look in the Deputy's eyes as he followed Tabby's progress across the yard, grinning when she waved a flirtatious wave at him before disappearing inside. The Deputy's eyes never left the farmhouse as he reined his horse back towards town. Jess' fingers twitched convulsively over his weapon, barely controlling his anger as he watched the loathsome deputy ride away.

Once the deputy was out of sight, Jess had stormed into the house. Maude stood in shocked silence as Jess lectured Tabby like she'd never been lectured before. He reminded her how she shouldn't be flirting with just anyone, that it sent the wrong message; that she needed to learn how to read men and their intentions. His anger and concern for the girl flowed out until she ran from the room crying. Maude watched, hands over her mouth, yet said nothing as Jess returned to his work outside. After the Deputy's visit, Jess stayed even closer to the farmhouse. He didn't like the man and furthermore, didn't trust him one inch.

Jess worried over Thomas' health as well as the family's welfare. He'd noticed how the sumptuous breakfasts were slowly replaced by mush or only single servings of eggs and pancakes. Mid-day meals were light fare and supper most often consisted of a tasty, but watery soup with Maude's homemade bread and jam. He knew he was partially to blame for their circumstances. He was a big eater and had partaken of their offerings with abandonment. He'd gone hunting but even he couldn't scare up any meat for the stew pot.

Jess knew he had to go hunting one more time. Leaving Thomas to watch over his family, Jess set out in search of food for the family who had taken him in. He didn't know why he'd taken the path he did, but was once again aware of the light which seemed to be his ever-present companion. Usually just brightness in the sky, today its tail reached clear down to the ground as if pointing to a specific spot. Curious, he found himself following it. He still wasn't sure he bought into Thomas' explanation of him having a guiding light, but he did know following it led him to a sheltered portion of the woods behind town. Traveler had spooked at the noise – a bleating sort of sound Jess recognized as an animal in distress. As he followed the plaintive cries, he came upon a large deer tangled in an exposed tree stump root. A quick look was all it took for Jess to know the deer's leg was broken. If he left it alone, it would die from shock and exposure. Even worse, it was easy prey for any feral dogs or wolves in the area. Hesitating only a moment, Jess put the animal out of its misery. The deer would have died anyway but the meat would feed the Jenkins family, and part of the town, for quite a while.

The next day, Thomas once again headed into town. Jess was in the barn skinning the deer when he heard Tabby scream. Gun in hand he bolted towards the house, skittering to a stop at the edge of the building. Three horses he didn't recognize stood tied to the back porch. He could hear men's voices emanating from within. They were cold voices - voices which ordered Mrs. Jenkins to bring them food. His blood boiled hearing the unknown men being so rough with her. He heard a slap and Ronny cry out even as furniture was overturned. He knew the men were ransacking the house, seeking money and anything of value. Crouching down, he slid over to the window. Ronny lay motionless on the floor. One man stood in the entryway to the kitchen, keeping an eye on Mrs. Jenkins as she brought food to the table. Another pulled drawers from the bureau, allowing them and the contents to spill onto the floor. He swept Maude's china from the cabinet, laughing when it shattered upon the floor, heedless of the tears streaming down her cheeks. It was the third man's identity which shocked Jess. It was none other than the Sheriff's Deputy. He held Tabby, his hand over her mouth and a gun to her head. He had an evil sneer upon his face as he began dragging her towards the open door of her bedroom.

With everyone's location locked in his mind, Jess burst through the cabin door. He somersaulted, coming up on one knee, his shots taking out the first two men. His surprise entrance flustered the Deputy who thought the women were unprotected. He turned his gun away from Tabby to shoot at Jess. It was all Jess needed to ensure Tabby's safety as he fired a third direct hit. It had felt like an eternity, yet it was over in moments. As the gun smoke cleared the air, a terrified Tabby stared at the dead man at her feet before raising her hands to her face and began to scream hysterically. Jess leaped up, dreading what he was about to do, yet knowing it was necessary as he approached the screaming girl. He was saved from any ungentlemanly behavior when Maude stepped in front of Tabby, giving her a backhanded slap. Tabby stopped screaming and, putting a hand to her reddened cheek, she began to cry in earnest.

Jess helped a shaking Maude and Tabby settle into chairs where they promptly broke down into sobs while holding onto each other. Jess leaned over Ronny, worried because the boy had not regained consciousness.

Jess looked around the house, now in shambles, and his "family" consoling each other. Three men lay dead by his hand, a grisly scene he was quick to eradicate. He dragged each of the men out of the house, loading them into the Jenkins' wagon. He dreaded facing the local sheriff, yet it was something that had to be done. By the time he finished harnessing the team, Maude and Tabby had wrapped Ronny in warm blankets. Jess held Ronny in his arms while Maude and Tabby climbed onto the wagon seat. He handed Ronny up to his mother before climbing aboard himself. It was a tight fit for all of them, but he refused to put Ronny with the dead men in the back and there was no way he could leave the women alone at the ranch. With grim determination, Jess set the team into a ground-covering trot as they headed to town and whatever fate may await him at the hands of the sheriff.

CHAPTER NINE

In spite of the cold, a crowd surrounded and followed as he progressed toward the Sheriff's office. He could hear the murmurs and speculation as to who he was and why he was driving a wagon carrying three dead men. He kept his eyes straight ahead, focusing only on his destination. He dreaded meeting the Sheriff. He didn't know if there were any wanted posters out on him. He didn't think there were, but there could be, and it worried him. It had been a long time since he'd been in any trouble with the law. Yet old posters always seemed to find their way to these out of the way places. At one time, the bounty on him had been sizeable. Convincing money hungry sheriffs he wasn't wanted any longer always fell on deaf ears. He didn't relish the possibility of being locked up in some tin-horn's jail while he waited for whatever law enforcement agency came to lay claim to him – or verified he wasn't wanted anymore.

The sign over the door read SAMUEL TUCKER, SHERIFF. Carrying a double-barreled shotgun, the Sheriff stepped out of his office as Jess helped the Jenkins down from the wagon. Before anything could be said, Thomas pushed his way through the crowd.

"Jess!" he hollered, getting Jess' attention. "What are you doing here? What's wrong with Ronny?" he said, looking back and forth to his wife and daughter.

"Ronny needs a doctor." Was all Jess said as Thomas swept the boy into his own arms, turning and striding towards the town doctor's office. Maude and Tabby followed close behind him.

Jess looked at the sheriff now. He was an imposing man, exuding an air of authority as he stood on the threshold of his office. Jess guessed the man was in his fifties, his dark hair was turning a premature grey, yet he still stood tall among the crowd. There was something else about Tucker – something familiar which Jess couldn't put his finger on.

Hands wrapped around the shotgun threateningly, he studied Jess warily before stepping off the sidewalk and examining each of the dead men. A murmur went through the crowd as his examination revealed their identities.

Turning to Jess again, Sheriff Tucker eyed him anew. Jess knew the Sheriff was taking the measure of him and he didn't like it one bit. He knew the Sheriff was deciding whether or not he'd seen Jess' picture on a wanted poster. Finally the sheriff spoke.

In a slow southern drawl he said "I expect you'd best come in and explain yourself."

Jess nodded, preceding Sheriff Tucker into his office. He was barely inside when the door closed soundly. Jess started to turn around only to hear the distinctive click of the shotgun hammers cocked, commanded to raise his hands, and not turn around. Slowly, Jess did as told.

"Put your gun and belt on the desk." Commanded the Sheriff once more.

Slowly, carefully, Jess complied, confused as to how he was being treated.

"Now step over there into one of the cells."

Looking over his shoulder, Jess asked. "What for?I ain't done nothing except protect the Jenkins family."

"You ain't done nothing?" The Sheriff mocked. "You bring me three dead bodies – one is my deputy and the other two are members of the Town Council. You admit you killed them. What did you expect me to do – congratulate you? Hell, no, I'm arresting you for murder." Finished the Sheriff.

"Murder?" Jess repeated incredulously, turning to face his accuser. "Look, Sheriff, it ain't nothing like that. I can explain." Before he'd completed his sentence Tucker struck him alongside the head with the gun stock, stunning him and sending him to the floor.

It was a while later when Jess groaned softly. He was lying on the cot in a jail cell. He touched the side of his head, his fingers feeling the sticky warmth from the open wound. His head pounded, making him nauseous. Too nauseated to sit or stand, he rolled to his side. Tucker didn't need to have hit him – let alone hit him that hard. Experience had taught him that Sheriff's often overreacted to anyone wearing a modified gun tied low on their hip. It was as if they chose to head off any possibility of confrontation with a gunman; never giving anyone the opportunity to get the upper hand – or in this case explain themselves. It was just one of the reasons he had learned to distrust anyone in authority. His encounters with the law had taught him he could count only on himself.

"Oh, good, you're awake." Stated the Sheriff, turning from where he had been looking out over Front Street. "So you're the one who has been staying with the Jenkins these last few months. I'd heard about you. Thought it kind of funny you never came to town. Now I know why. You got any paper out on you?"

"Not that I know of." Jess answered, wincing at the effort.

"You're in trouble, boy." He said turning back to look out the window."The town isn't taking kindly to having prominent citizens murdered by an outsider – especially a gunslinger and someone potentially wanted by the law." He paused while lowering the shade across the window. "You'll have a trial alright." He'd said, now looking over at Jess. "I'll make sure of that. But it looks like you'll have an appointment with the hangman."

Taking one last look outside from behind the shade, Tucker sighed before placing his hat upon his head. "I don't like the looks of what's going on out there. Looks like I'd best be heading off any thoughts of a neck tie party." He dropped his hand to the doorknob.

"Wait!" rasped out Jess, getting up and crossing the cell, grasping the bars as he spoke to the Sheriff. "I didn't touch that boy. I didn't do nothing. Your dang Deputy was the one that struck him and knocked him out. Ask Maude or Tabby – they'll set you straight. Those men broke into Jenkins' house; were holding Maude and Tabby at gunpoint – and I won't even try to tell you what your precious Deputy was about to do to Tabby. Ya, I killed them." Jess growled. "I killed them to protect the Jenkins' family – just like I promised Thomas I'd do when he took me in. I owe them everything. I'd never hurt them."

Hand still on the doorknob, the Sheriff snorted. "Didn't do nothing?" he mocked. "Like I said - you killed my Deputy and two Council members – that's something. And set the record straight? Hell, you think any of the Jenkins are going to stick up for you after this? Ronny's hurt – hurt bad - and there ain't no one asking about where you are. I haven't got the whole story yet. The family's too distraught for me to interview them." Tucker sighed. "So, for now, you'll stay right where you are until I can investigate more. In the meantime, I'm going out there and try to keep the crowd under control."

Jess's spirits sunk to a new low as Tucker closed and locked the door, leaving him alone in his cell. He paced like a caged animal before lying back down on the cot. He worried over Ronny – was the boy going to be okay? Tucker had said the boy was severely injured. He knew with certainty the Sheriff would never disturb the family under those circumstances. There was no one to help him and he couldn't help himself.

CHAPTER TEN

Jess wasn't sure how long it had been since the he'd been locked in his cell, knowing only the jail was slowly plunged into total darkness as the sun set. Sheriff Tucker hadn't returned; hadn't brought him supper or even water to drink.

Suddenly the street was awash in light, growing brighter as it approached the Jail. It was then Jess heard the unmistakable sound of a drunken mob - and they were coming for him. With lit torches, men stormed the jailhouse, shooting away the door's lock in their furor to get to him. The torches cast eerie shadows as strangers pulled him to his feet before tying his hands behind him. He could smell their liquored breath as they dragged him out into the night. Without his coat, he began to shiver almost immediately. The men's breath rose in clouds as they held him while the crowd closed in. Shouting accusations, decrying his murdering the Deputy and Council members, they took turns beating him. Jess tasted his own blood, the result of a broken nose, and other injuries meted out by the mob. He had shouted his innocence,trying to make himself heard as he struggled against those holding him, but the frenzied men drowned out his voice. He fought the hands which forced a bandanna into his mouth, gagging him, effectively stifling him from renouncing their claims. Between the gag and his broken nose, Jess could barely breathe. The beating continued until he sagged in the men's arms, succumbing to the injuries inflicted upon him.

The crowd parted as someone led a horse into their midst. Adrenalin surged through Jess as he struggled to prevent them from lifting him up into the saddle. Multiple hands grabbed his arms and legs, ensuring he stayed aboard, as they led him towards the edge of town. Two more men waited patiently for them to approach, a rope already dangling over a sturdy branch of the closest tree. Jess fought down the bile that rose up in this throat. Instinctively fighting for self-preservation, his hands flexed re-actively, futilely trying to free his wrists from their bonds.

Forcing Jess to lean down, someone placed the noose around his neck, caring only that it would facilitate his hanging. Pushing him back upright, the rope tightened until there was no slack left. This wasn't a hanging; the rope wouldn't break his neck. No, this was a lynching;he was about to die a slow and terrifying death as his life was slowly choked out of him. He wasn't afraid of death; always figuring he'd meet his end at the hands of another gunman. But the idea of being lynched made his blood run cold.

With agonizing clarity, Jess remembered the lynching he had witnessed. Just going on fifteen, it was one of the nights when he had been returning home from checking his trap lines. A sharecropper's son, the family was poor and the animals he snared helped feed them. He wore patched clothing and was barefoot. Walking along the dirt road alone, he had heard a group of horses approaching. Knowing that lawless raiders and vigilantes were in the area, he hid as they rode by. He wasn't sure what a vigilante was, but knew he'd been warned to avoid them at all costs. His curiosity aroused, he had followed the hooded and masked men when they galloped into old man Bronson's yard. He was soon to wish he'd never followed them, nor hid behind a tree to watch. He still had nightmares over what he witnessed that night.

The vigilantes broke down the door to Bronson's home. Wearing only their night clothes, Bronson, his wife, and daughter were dragged out into the night. Men physically restrained his wife and daughter as others bound and gagged Mr. Bronson. What appeared to be the leader of the vigilantes read from a document, accusing Mr. Bronson of aiding and abetting the enemy. Jess didn't know what "enemy" they were referring to, because Mr. Bronson had never done anything to harm anyone. He'd always been kind and generous to Jess. Jess listened as the leader finished reading the document, followed by proclaiming Mr. Bronson guilty and sentencing him to death – the sentence to be carried out immediately.

Jess had watched in horror as they dropped a lasso around Bronson's neck, jerking it tight. Laughing, one of them dallied the rope around his saddle horn. Kicking his horse into a trot, he forced the old man to run behind him until he reached the nearby woods. Winded, Bronson still struggled as he fought against mounting the horse which they led to a tree near where Jess hid. It was there they had thrown the rope over a convenient limb, tying it off tightly in preparation for carrying out the sentence.

A torch was set to the homestead, lighting up the night. Over the roar of the fire consuming their home, could be heard the horrified screams when Mrs. Bronson and her daughter where dragged out of sight. The raiders ignored the women's pleas for mercy; taking turns doing as they pleased. Hearing the women's screams, Bronson had stood in the stirrups, twisting and turning, fighting the ropes as if he could dismount and rescue the women, all the while trying to be heard through the gag. Yet the bound and gagged man was held immobile and incapable of anything more than listening as his wife and daughter were tortured, ravaged, and left dying in the dirt. The women's screams had grown less and less until there was only silence. Tears ran down Mr. Bronson's face.

The women's screams had barely ceased when someone swatted the horse from under Mr. Bronson. Jess had watched in horror as Mr. Bronson dangled at the end of the rope, his legs jerking and kicking uselessly, feet seeking solid ground beneath him while he struggled to use hands trapped, tied behind his back. He'd watched the man struggle for an eternity of terrified consciousness, until he mercifully passed out. Although his struggles ceased, he didn't die right away. No, that took several more minutes–his body still twitching as his oxygen starved brain shut down. Even then, death waited, seemingly prolonging the moment until the last ounce of life ceased to exist. Jess would never forget the tortured look upon Mr. Bronson's face as his body swung back and forth. Nor would he ever forget Mrs. Bronson and her daughter's screams, begging for mercy, while the raiders did what they pleased and took what they wanted.

Forgetting he was in hiding, tears streaming down his face, Jess had launched himself at the leader, pummeling him with closed fists. Their eyes met for an instant before the man kicked him away and struck him repeatedly with his heavy quirt. The blows knocked Jess to the ground, the leather quirt ripping his shirt, leaving welts and lacerations across his back. Laughing at the boy's futile defense of the Bronson family, the leader had pulled his revolver to shoot at Jess. He only missed because Jess had jumped to his feet, waving his arms at the man's horse, causing the animal to rear, allowing him to escape into the underbrush. The leader had lobbed a few more shots after him, shouting for his followers to "Find that boy and kill him. They were to leave no witnesses alive to testify." But Jess was fast and knew the area. He could run like a rabbit and knew how to leave no trail. He was long gone before the men gave up the chase and rode away. Jess would always remember that voice and those eyes – eyes he was destined to see only weeks later when his own home was attacked and burned to the ground. It was then he learned the name of the raider – Bannister – and Jess learned how to hate.

Jess would have swayed in the saddle except for the rope encircling his neck. His compromised breathing was making him light headed. The vision of Mr. Bronson's hanging stayed in his mind. He regretted he hadn't caught up with Bannister and killed him. What these people were doing to him tonight was no different from Bannister's raids. Just like Bannister, they had taken the law into their own hands, doling out punishment without benefit of the law. Jess searched the crowd for Sheriff Tucker but couldn't find him among the throng.

If he'd been a weaker man, Jess might have shed a tear over his impending death. Tonight he was the one surrounded by men with burning torches. Tonight it would be he who hung from a tree. It would be his legs which jerked and kicked, desperately seeking solid ground. It would be his hands which struggled uselessly to free himself. And it would be his body the morning sun would find swinging from the tree limb.

In the midst of the turmoil, Jess looked to the sky, hoping he'd have enough time to ask for forgiveness before he met his end. His ever-present light shone directly above him. Calmness overcame him, the same calmness he'd experience during a gunfight. He was no longer afraid of dying at the end of a rope. Although he could hear everything going on around him, it was a mere blur of background sound. He closed his eyes, knowing there was nothing left but to accept his eminent death. Just as when he'd been left locked in his cell, he couldn't help himself and there was no one else to save it him. Through it all, he remained hyper-sensitive to his immediate surroundings

His attackers backed away, clearing a path for when they swatted the horse out from under him. The sound of leather striking the horse's hide echoed through the night. Time moved in slow motion as Jess felt the burst of energy when the animal leaped forward; felt his body naturally follow the movement before he was jerked backwards, momentary suspended in free fall before his body dropped, his weight causing the noose to jerk tighter around his throat, choking him. Now time stood still. In spite of his acceptance that he would die, his body reacted to the assault, struggling to survive as the rope bit deeper into his neck. He wanted to vomit but the rope and gag prevented him from doing so. His veins were on fire; every heartbeat pounding through his chest while his oxygen starved lungs exploded with unimaginable pain. It was a new kind of pain; an agonizing and never-ending pain that consumed him until darkness brought his release from consciousness.

Later, he was never sure he actually heard the fight emanating from town nor the gunshot which severed the rope and freed him. However, the jolt of hitting the cold hard ground was real. It brought him out of the darkness as he fought to suck air through his constricted airways. The rope was still tight around his throat. Improperly tied, it failed to loosen when relieved of his weight. He flailed uselessly in the snow, unable to free himself from the ropes that both bound and choked him, the constriction threatening to send him back into unconsciousness and certain death. His stomach retched, choking him on his own vomit, the gag preventing the acid fluid from being expelled. He thrashed around, desperate for his torture to end.

Nearly out of his mind, he feared the voices and fought against the hands grabbing at him until he was pinned to the ground. He felt a knife sliding through the ropes binding his wrists and encircling his neck. The gag fell away. A resounding thump on his back sent him into a coughing spasm as he spit out the liquid trapped in his throat and lungs. Exhausted, spent, and hurting, his body quivered from both shock and cold. He could only lie where he had fallen, gulping in the life giving night air, trying to fill his lungs again. Gentle hands drew him close and settled his head on their lap. Through the slit of his swollen eyes, he looked up into Tabby's worried face. She stroked his cheek and shushed him, murmuring that they had sent for a wagon and would get him to the doctor as quickly as possible. He nodded his acceptance and turned his head away. His eyes started to close until a pair of boots – Sheriff Tucker's boots - came into view.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Through the slits of his swollen eyelids, Jess' eyes traveled up to the Sheriff's face. Blood flowed from an open wound on the Sheriff's head, but there was something different in the Sheriff's demeanor, the same "something" he had felt when they first met. Jess still couldn't identify it.

Tucker knelt beside him, placing a kind hand on his shoulder. "Just rest, Jess, we've got you. You'll be safe now." He turned as a wagon drew up alongside them. "Come on, boy, let's get you to the doctor." Jess didn't argue, welcoming the darkness which overtook him. He never felt them lift him into the wagon nor carried into the doctor's office.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Jess wasn't sure whether it had been hours, days, or a week since the night of the lynching. Even without being able to see through his partially swollen eyes, he knew he wasn't in the Jenkins' home. From the activity, he assumed he was in the town doctor's office. Next to his bedside, Tabby read a book aloud. Her voice was soothing, a balm to the pain radiating through his mind and body. He only knew he was hurt more than he'd ever been hurt before in his life. Even the punishment doled out by the Yankees when we had been a POW paled in comparison. His face felt foreign to him; his nose, mouth and cheeks grotesquely swollen from the beating. Both his neck and throat hurt, especially when he swallowed. Breathing through his broken nose was a challenge. Bandages encompassed his rib cage, confirming how seriously the mob had injured him, even before they had hung him. Beyond that, there were too many other aches and pains to take inventory of; he was just glad he was still alive.

The doctor, Dr. Winters, wanted to keep Jess under observation for a few days. For once, Jess didn't object. He was in no condition to do much of anything as he slowly recovered. Tabby came every day to sit beside him. Sometimes they talked; others she read to him. Sometimes she just sat companionably beside him and knitted while he dozed. He began to like her company. Where once he had viewed her as a starry-eyed sixteen-year-old girl, he began to see the young woman she was becoming as she changed before his very eyes. She exhibited Maude's strength and wisdom in caring for him. Her hands had been strong yet gentle when fluffing his pillows or helping him to sit up for meals. His progress was slow and one week turned into two, yet Tabby came every day to keep him company.

Jess locked the door to his sick room so he could wash in private. He had progressed well enough the doctor allowed him out of bed and encouraged his moving around within the confines of the doctor's clinic. He didn't want Jess venturing outside until he had recovered more completely.

Removing his nightshirt, he stared at his reflection in the mirror. His tan had long since faded, but the bandage around his ribs still stood out in stark contrast to his skin. His eyes were open now, but still ringed by bruises, the purple coloring fading to yellow. Likewise, his torso ranged in color from deep purple to yellow. He pulled his neck bandages down so he could see the damage. The mark encircling his neck still stood out in a vivid red contrast. He knew the color would eventually fade, but he would always carry the rope burn markings. At least Tabby didn't seem to even notice. She had never averted her eyes from his injuries, accepting them as she accepted him. He fingered an old scar upon his shoulder, frowning in remembrance of how it had come to be there. Turning and looking over his shoulder, he continued to look at his image in the mirror, saddened at the numerous scars on his back. There were visible reminders of both knife and bullet wounds which marred his smooth skin – too many for his short life, yet indicators of the harsh existence he had led. He doubted she had seen those. He had awoken wearing a nightshirt and the doctor had been the only one to wrap his ribs. Yet he wondered whether Tabby would accept his scars as easily as she had accepted his current injuries.

He had just finished washing and shaving when there was a rap upon his door.

"Jess?" called Dr. Winters. "You awake? Sheriff Tucker wants a word with you."

Jess frowned. The last thing he wanted was to talk to a Sheriff – especially this Sheriff. He was having a hard time forgiving the man for arresting him. His head still hurt from the concussion he'd received at the Sheriff's hands. He was still furious the Sheriff had been nowhere about when the mob dragged him out into the darkened street before beating and hanging him.

"Give me a minute." Croaked Jess before sliding into clothes. Anger boiled through him. He was sure he'd heard the telltale sound of metal clanking against metal - handcuffs pulled from the Sheriff's pocket. Lawman or not, Jess was not meeting him dressed in only a nightshirt, lying in bed. If Tucker really wanted him under arrest, he wasn't about to be handcuffed to the bed until well enough to be transferred to the jail. No, his pride demanded more of him than that. He would meet the Sheriff face-to-face, dressed, standing tall – well as tall as he could stand with his caved in ribs. And if Tucker was coming for him again, he'd walk on his own two feet, head held high as he was escorted back to jail. Jess leaned his forehead against the closed door as his resolve began to fade, replaced by his anger over the injustice of it all."I ain't going back to no jail." He thought "Not for something I ain't guilty of."

Jess was ready for an all out confrontation as he unlocked and then stepped through the door, only to have anger give way to confusion. Tucker was sitting at the doctor's table while Dr. Winters wrapped a bandage around his head. Jess remembered the head wound Tucker had had the night of his hanging.

Seeing Jess, Tucker moved Dr. Winters aside with his hand. He stood, using a cane for support. As he approached Jess, he held out his hand but Jess ignored the Sheriff's gesture. Jess eyed the Sheriff warily. He quickly scanned the man for any indication he was about to get a pair of handcuffs slapped on him; but he saw nothing and no sign of the handcuffs he thought he had heard the Sheriff pull from a pocket.

"I came to apologize." The Sheriff began. Seeing Jess' confusion, he suggested they return to the table so both of them could sit down while they talked. Jess followed the heavily limping lawman. Mrs. Winters brought in cups and a pot of coffee. After filling the cups, she and Dr. Winters left Jess and Tucker alone in the room.

It was a minute before Tucker began. "Like I said, Jess, I'm here to apologize." He held up a hand to stop Jess from responding angrily. "It was entirely my fault you were nearly hung."

Jess could only stare incredulously. Never before had a lawman ever apologized to him. Tucker took a sip of coffee before continuing on.

"I knew the town was worked up." He began again. "What I didn't know was that, in addition to my deputy and the two councilmen you brought in, there were two other members of the gang. They had spent the afternoon in the saloon buying drinks and stirring up the crowd. I went in to quiet them, close the bar so they'd sober up." He stopped, seemingly unwilling to go on before continuing. "I've been a lawman a long time. I figured I could handle them. I knew they were liquored up but I never thought they'd turn on me." He fingered the bandage on his head. "You weren't the only one to get knocked out that night." He sipped his coffee once more. "They'd already taken you when I woke up, locked in my own jail with a splitting headache." He looked at Jess now. "I'm so sorry, Jess. I don't know what got into them. I could hear them beating you and heard them move away to the hanging tree and I couldn't do a thing about it."

Jess' eyes narrowed. It was a bullshit story if he'd ever heard one. And he was in no mood to forgive the lawman.

"You can thank Thomas for saving you. He's the one who came to the jail and freed me. If he hadn't heard the mob and come to check your whereabouts, I'd have been locked up until who knows when, and you would be dead."

"I almost was." Spat Jess, his hand subconsciously touching the bandages around his neck.

Tucker nodded. "I'm sorry, boy. I arrested you because it was the right thing to do until I got things straightened out. Like I said, I had no idea there were two more members of the gang. They've been evading me for months. It explains how they always knew my whereabouts – hell, they were all members of the Town Council and right under my nose." He fell silent, shaking his head at his gullibility.

Jess relaxed a little. Pointing at Tucker's cane, he asked. "So what happened? Last thing I remember is them sending the horse out from under me." Jess shuddered as he recalled the rope biting into his neck.

"Well," Tucker answered. "We had a bit of a disagreement over you getting hung. There was a shootout between the crowd and myself, backed by several of the more sane townspeople. I got a bullet in the leg, but I got both of them. Won't have to worry about any trial for them, neither of them survived. Once they were dead, the crowd lost its frenzy and disappeared like the cowards they really are. I know who a lot of them were and they'll pay one way or another. I certainly won't let the town forget what they almost did to you."

Reassured by the lawman's forthrightness, Jess asked. "I think I remember a loud gunshot right as I lost consciousness. I remember hitting the ground. Was that you shooting the rope?"

Tucker slapped the table and laughed loudly. "No sir," he continued, laughing. "That was none other than Tabby Jenkins. That dang girl broke into my gun cabinet and took my double-barreled shotgun. She took one shot, both barrels, severed that rope just as pretty as you please." He was still laughing as he placed his hat on his head. He stood up, leaning heavily upon his cane. Pointing at Jess, he said. "Don't underestimate that girl, Jess, there's more to her than most men see." He held out his hand for a handshake. This time Jess shook hands with him. "Take care, Jess. I'll be seeing you around." He headed for the door, closing it quietly behind him.

Astonished at the turn of events, Jess could only stare at the closed door. Finally, he eased himself out of the chair, returning to his room to lie down and contemplate things.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

A few days later, Dr. Winters released Jess, allowing him to go home with the Jenkins but with strict instructions as to his activities. The cold winter air burned his throat and lungs, sending him into coughing spasms as they drove the few miles to the Jenkins' home. By the time they reached it, his ribs were screaming in protest. He begged off any welcome home activities, seeking relief by lying down in his bedroom before supper.

Just as she had done at Dr. Winter's office, Tabby came to Jess' side. She brought a glass of water mixed with the powders Dr. Winters had prescribed for Jess' pain. After drinking it, he settled back upon his pillow. Her soothing touch pushed the hair back from his face while she talked softly until he relaxed and fell into a deep sleep. After covering him with a quilt, she still sat beside him, studying him. He was so different asleep – his features softer – even boyish. She was in love with him and imagined their life together. Deep down, Jess was a good man. She knew her father would give his blessing.

They'd be married in her father's church in town. Jess would be handsome in his suit; eyes alight with love as she walked down the aisle. Her mother would help her make her wedding dress of white satin. It would be extravagant – especially for a preacher's daughter, but it was what she wanted. She'd wear a veil, one which Jess would have to lift before his first kiss as her husband.

He would be a good husband, she mused. He had an inner strength - a natural protectiveness, selflessness, he'd exhibited countless times during his stay. He would be gentle when initiating her into the ways of a husband and wife. If their short interlude in the barn were any indication, she knew he would be an exciting lover. His kiss and touch had left her weak, yearning for more. Once married, there would be nothing to stop them from sharing their love; she was sure he would quickly father their first child. He'd be a good father too. She'd seen how he was around Ronny. He'd been good for her brother, patiently explaining and teaching him a variety of things without overstepping his authority. She'd seen how he had kept Ronny from becoming overly interested in his gun, often times locking it away so the boy couldn't get to it. Yes, not only would he be the husband of her dreams, he'd also be an outstanding father.

She could see her and Jess, together with their numerous sons and daughters, taking up a full pew in her father's church. She placed her hand over her flat stomach, imagining how it would feel to carry his baby. She already knew what their babies would look like. The boys would be carbon copies of their father. From their unruly dark hair, dark blue eyes, deep gravelly voices, kind hearts, and strong hands, there would be no mistaking they were the sons of Jess Harper. Their girls would inherit his long eyelashes while inheriting her own wavy dark hair; yet again, there would be no mistaking who their father was.

Yet there was broodiness within Jess she didn't understand, something which ate at him relentlessly. He could be quick to anger, often defensive over something seemingly benign. His was as fast with his fists as he was deadly with his gun. She'd witnessed that first hand when the raiders had attacked their home. She would forever be grateful for his protection, yet feared the unknown source of the anger he kept hidden within him. She chewed her lip in consternation. There was so much of his past they knew nothing about. He'd studiously avoided any questions in that regard. Was he a fugitive from the law? If the law caught up with him, would he run, leaving her and the children behind? How would they survive if he went to prison? Would he come home to her? Would he still be the same man she loved? What would she do if he died resisting arrest? She shook the negative thoughts away.

She wondered about the various scars on his body. No one knew she had seen them. Dr. Winters had sent her out of Jess' sick room when changing his bandages. However, he had been so engrossed in treating the recovering Jess, he hadn't noticed her sneak back into the room. She'd had to clasp her hand over her mouth to keep from gasping when she saw his back. She'd fled Jess's room, crying over the horrendous life he must have lived. It didn't matter, she told herself. Maybe he would always carry the reminders of his previous life, but her love would take the place of his painful memories

Gently tracing the outline of his lips with her fingers, she desperately wanted to kiss him. But more than that, she wanted him to kiss her the way he had that day in the barn. It seemed a lifetime ago they had shared that passionate moment. He'd kept his distance from her since then. In spite of her best efforts, he had made certain they were never alone together. She had been pleased when he began looking forward to her company as he recovered at Dr. Winter's office. She stood then and looked around her furtively before brushing a kiss across his cheek, smiling when she heard a contented sigh.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The weather broke long enough for the town's people to reach neighboring towns, bringing back needed food and other supplies. It was a turning point for everyone. With the harshest of winter behind them and now food for everyone, there was hope for a better year to unfold.

Not one to laze about, Jess was soon on his feet, resuming normal activities. He was working at the forge when Sheriff Tucker rode up. Jess acknowledged the Sheriff but continued on with shoeing the big draft horses the Jenkins' used. He thought nothing of Tucker's visit until he and Thomas came to the shed where he was working.

"Jess, Sheriff Tucker wants a word with you. " Thomas had begun.

Jess looked up from the shoe he was shaping, distrust evident in his eyes. He still hadn't forgiven the man for his treatment at the hands of the townspeople. He merely shrugged his shoulders, indicating he neither cared whether Tucker talked to him or not.

"Jess," Tucker began." I want you to come to town with me."

Jess' head jerked up, his mouth set in a firm line, he dropped the hot shoe into the bucket of water, watching as the steam rose up into the winter air. So this was it, he thought. Tucker's found paper on me after all and come to arrest me. He turned to face Tucker "Why?" he spat out, his anger and distrust obvious to both men. His took a step back, moving closer to where his gun hung on a post. His thumb rubbed compulsively against his forefinger in anticipation of the about-to-be fight for his life. He wouldn't let Tucker take him without a fight – someone was about to die. But no matter the outcome, he wouldn't go quietly, like a lamb to slaughter.

"I got no warrants out on me. Any paper you found is old and recalled – or I done served my time and been released. I'm a free man. You got no call to come in here and arrest me."

"Arrest you?" Echoed a surprised Tucker. Shaking his head, Tucker stepped forward but stopped in mid-stride. In the second it took him to move, Jess had pulled his gun and was now pointing it at the Sheriff.

"I ain't going to no jail. You'll have to kill me first." His body was tense, legs braced, his face an unreadable mask, yet his hand was rock steady.

Tucker froze in place. "Whoa there, Jess." He said holding his hands out in front of himself, palms up. "You got the wrong idea, boy." Tucker waited for some kind of response from Jess. Getting none, he continued. "I'm asking you to come work with me – be my Deputy."

Jess cocked his head sideways in disbelief, wanting to believe the Sheriff's words; yet knowing in his heart it couldn't be true. "I ain't in no mood for your games, Tucker, what you really after me for?"

Thomas spoke up then. "It's no game, Jess. Tucker's been talking to me about it for a while now. He rode out today to ask you himself. No tricks, Jess. Honest."

Jess relaxed only slightly, still distrusting of the Sheriff, but having full faith in Thomas' honesty and sincerity.

"Why me?" Jess growled, still looking at them sideways and not relaxing any more than he had.

Tucker patted his sore leg, careful to make no move towards his gun. "My leg isn't healing right. Doc says he has to operate. I'll have to get around on crutches and won't be able to ride for a good three weeks. I need someone I can trust, someone good with a gun. You're good Jess. I know your reputation. You're not trigger-happy. You've never killed anyone who wasn't trying to kill you. I checked you out - you were railroaded into that jail sentence. And I've never heard of you lying or stealing." Tucker paused for a breath. "That's the type of man I need to take my place while I can't do my duties. That's why I'm asking you to move into town until I'm back on my feet."

Jess' body language softened but he didn't lower his gun as he looked dubiously between Tucker and Thomas.

"Ya mean it?" he asked in disbelief. "No tricks? You really want me – me to be a deputy?" Jess relaxed a little more, changing the angle of his gun hand, bringing the gun's muzzle up, yet not putting his gun away. He could still bring it into play if Tucker made a wrong move.

"Yes, Jess. I'm asking you aren't I?" Tucker dropped his arms, hooking his thumbs into his gun belt and waited. He'd said his piece. The rest was up to Jess.

There was a long silence as Jess studied Tucker for any sign of deceit. He looked back and forth between Thomas and the Sheriff. Making his decision, he sighed, gently released the hammer of his revolver and placed it back in its holster.

"If Thomas can spare me, I'll do it." He looked to Thomas for confirmation. When Thomas nodded his approval, Jess said. "When do I start?"

Tucker let out a sigh of relief, grinning because Jess had accepted his offer. "As soon as you can get your things together. I've already arranged a room at the boarding house for you. Dr. Winters wants to operate no later than the beginning of next week. He thinks there's still a bullet fragment lodged in my leg. That'll give me a week to show you my routine and bring you up to speed on things. Hopefully, it'll be a quiet couple of weeks, but I need to make sure the town is covered.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Jess stared, laughing, at the overstuffed wardrobe in his boarding house room. Apparently, Thomas had already told Maude of his impending move, because by the time he'd gone into the house to pack his things, he found a huge pile of clothing neatly folded upon his bed. He'd brought the pile of clothing out to return them, not wanting to be beholding to the family any more than he was. Maude had waved him off, saying he'd need the extra clothing in order to be spiffed up for his Deputy duties. It was with grateful heart Jess returned to his room to finish packing. He'd had to borrow a carpetbag from the Jenkins to carry all of the new-to-him clothing.

They had stood in the yard to see him off. Maude smiled bravely but tears glistened in her eyes as she kissed his cheek before hugging him like she'd never let go. She'd whispered in his ear so no one could hear. "Come home, Jess. Come home when you're through being a deputy."

After Maude stepped back, Tabby somehow insinuated herself in his arms, staying by his side with his free arm around her as he shook hands with her father. She had wrapped one arm around him, the other resting possessively on his chest as she looked up at him adoringly. He was surprised when she reached up and brought his head down for a quick but firm kiss on the mouth. There was no childishness in her kiss. It might have been a quick kiss because of her family, but it telegraphed a world of desire in a woman who wanted her man.

Ronny had stood off to the side until Jess turned to mount Traveler. It was then he broke his silence and ran to Jess, encircling his waist with his slender arms. He sobbed against Jess's side. "Don't go." He pleaded. "I'll miss you too much."

Jess dropped Traveler's reins and bent on one knee. With gloved hand he wiped the tear from Ronny's cheek. "I'll miss you too, buddy. I'm just going into town and I'll be back in a couple weeks. Maybe your father will bring you into town and I can show you the Sheriff's office and take you to lunch." He told the hopeful boy. "You'd like that wouldn't you?" His answer was another hug from Ronny before the boy turned and ran off towards the barn.

Jess was both excited and sorry to be leaving the Jenkins. Tucker had given him an opportunity like no other, but he knew he'd miss the hominess of being with the Jenkins. As he began to ride away he realized how bright his star shone, its tail reaching down to the earth, leading him away from the Jenkins. Jess stopped where their trail met the road leading to town. He'd turned then, lifting a hand to wave goodbye. He had the strange feeling things would never be the same again.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

"Will you please sit down and relax?" asked a flustered Tucker for the umpteenth time. Jess has been acting like a cat on a hot tin roof, unable to sit for more than a few moments before getting up to pace the Sheriff's office.

"Sorry." Was all Jess said for probably the tenth time in the last two hours. He couldn't tell Tucker the reason he was so antsy. Fact was - Jess couldn't remember ever being in a lawman's office when he wasn't being put behind bars. Being on the "right" side of those jail cells was a foreign feeling for him, one it was taking time getting used to. He kept imagining Tucker changing his mind about the whole thing, deciding he was a wanted criminal. The cells mocked him, threatening to open up and swallow him whole. He steered clear of them like they were a rattle snake. He calmed when he looked at the badge shining brightly on his vest. He'd put his hand on the Bible, swearing to uphold the law. Tucker wouldn't have sworn him in if this were a trick.

It was late morning when Tucker had guided him through the town, pointing out the different businesses. He'd introduced Jess to the various shopkeepers. Jess could tell immediately who had been in the lynch mob. Those men couldn't look him in the eye, always finding a way to avoid eye contact. Tucker had always snickered upon leaving those establishments. He'd told Jess he wanted the shopkeepers to feel guilty as sin – because they were guilty. He wanted them thinking about their choices and the consequences. He had nothing to charge them with regarding Jess' lynching, but he sure could make them squirm a whole lot. Jess had grinned at that and enjoyed the payback Tucker was extracting on his behalf.

Jess had been more than ready for their stop at one of the saloons. Compared to other saloons, it was a clean place. Two of the girls left their places at the bar, coming to Tucker, teasing him, and wrapping their arms around his waist, one on either side of him. In turn, he'd wrapped his arms around their shoulders, ushering them back to the bar where he bought all of them a round of drinks. He introduced the girls as Mattie and Louisa. Then he motioned for a third girl to join them, introducing her to Jess as Belle.

Belle was friendly, wrapping one arm comfortably around Jess' waist, wordlessly inviting him to put his arm around her. Seductive eyes sought his as she took the beer from his hand, sipping it before setting it down on the bar. She was more forward than Jess liked, even though he knew her job was to entertain the men, getting them to spend money. Therefore, he wasn't surprised when she snuggled up to him, one hand slipping inside his vest in a most familiar way. One moment Belle was making eyes at Jess, the next she cried out. He was holding one of her arms behind her back, while his other hand gripped her wrist – her hand blatantly holding his wallet.

"Nice try." Jess hissed, freeing her but taking back his wallet. Belle hissed back at him before flouncing away. Jess grinned, turning back to his drink.

Tucker nearly choked on his beer when he began to laugh. He lifted his glass in salute to Jess and nodded. "Score one for my new deputy!" he said with approval. He slapped Jess on the shoulder. "I knew I had chosen the right man for the job. Belle's one of the best pickpockets I know but she didn't fool you."

Jess had no idea why Tucker was so pleased; he just knew he'd been around enough to know when a pickpocket was working the crowd.

"That so? She's one of the best?" He asked of Tucker, receiving a confirmation nod. "Then how is it she missed this?" Jess said, holding up Tucker's pocket watch. Tucker looked down and patted his vest pockets, amazed that his watch was gone. Laughing, Jess handed the watch back to him. Jess grinned in self-satisfaction as he propped his elbows on the bar, sipping his beer while merriment danced in his mischievous eyes. Jess decided he might just like working with Tucker after all.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

During the first week of Jess' duty as a Deputy, he and Tucker fell into a comfortable routine. Once the looters had been killed, the town had quieted down, only coming to life after dark. Even then, there were few incidents. Their job consisted more of breaking up the occasional bar fight or settling some argument, than anything else. It was obvious the town respected Tucker. It was also obvious they weren't sure about his new Deputy.

Satisfied his town would be in good hands, Tucker checked himself into Dr. Winters clinic and allowed the surgery on his leg to go on as scheduled.

Jess was completing paperwork when he heard the office door open and close. Looking up to see who had entered, he was only mildly surprised to see Tabby. He wished Tucker were here. He would have made a good chaperone. Smiling, he rose to greet her, offering to take the basket she was carrying. She smiled back gratefully, gladly handing it to him while saying "I brought you lunch."

Jess looked at her, puzzled. She didn't need to bring him lunch. He'd told her more than once the town paid for his meals at the local boarding house. However, he knew if Maude or Tabby had cooked whatever was in the basket, it would be ten times better than anything he'd get in town.

Suddenly, Jess frowned. Looking out the window overlooking the street, he was relieved to see Thomas sitting on their buckboard just outside the office.

"What is it, Jess?" Tabby asked

Jess shook his head, "Nothing, I was just concerned you had driven into town by yourself."

Tabby removed her bonnet, revealing a mature upswept hairstyle – far different from the pigtails she normally wore. She set the bonnet beside the basket on the Sheriff's desk. She followed that by slowly, purposefully easing her cloak off her shoulders, revealing the form-fitting dress she wore, every move calculated to keep his attention on her. Jess couldn't help noticing how her dress clung to her body. She no longer looked like a child, having morphed into a woman's shape while he had been convalescing. At least he thought that is what had happened. He was totally unaware she'd laced her corset so tight she could barely breathe. A little cleverly hidden enhancement here and there created the fit and figure he was now admiring. They were standing close together. She took the opportunity to rub her hands up and down the lapels of his vest, fluttering her eyes shyly at him as she asked breathlessly. "Why, whatever for? It's only three miles and I'm perfectly capable of handling the team." As she spoke she had turned her head sideways while slowly rising on her tiptoes until she was able to capture his lips with hers. As his arms went around her, her hands slid up his chest until her fingers caressed the back of his neck, her calculated, seductive, kiss deepening as she pressed her body against his.

She only got to enjoy a few brief moments of his intense kiss before Jess broke it off, setting her away from himself. "Whoa!" He'd exclaimed. "That's a little too fast gal." He'd said as he subconsciously wiped a hand across his mouth. It did nothing to remove the lingering taste of her sweetness against his lips.

She shyly fluttered her eyes at him again, stepping back towards him, sliding her hands under his vest lapels, and gazing into his eyes. "But, Jess." She pouted. "You know how I feel. Daddy likes you. He'd approve of us getting together."

He set her away from himself again, wagging a finger at her. "This ain't happening – not between you and me. I done told you before, I owe your parents, and I won't betray their trust. You ain't for me and I ain't for you." Grabbing her bonnet and cloak, he hustled the bewildered Tabby to the door, her heels making staccato sounds against the wood floor. She snatched the hat from him, jamming it onto her head. She fixed him with an angry stare while tying the ribbon beneath her chin. "I hate you, Harper." She snarled at him, grabbing the cloak out of his hands. "I hope you choke on your lunch." She exited in a huff, slamming the door behind her.

Jess chuckled as he watched her climb onto the buckboard to sit beside her father. She was clearly angry and sat with her arms crossed. Shaking his head, he returned to his desk to check out what the basket contained. He thought he'd seen the last of Tabby's attempted seductions. He was wrong.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The very next day, Tabby arrived promptly at noon, carrying another small basket containing Jess' lunch.

He stood to greet her, taking the basket from her and setting it on the desk. He frowned upon looking out the window and not seeing Thomas with the buckboard parked outside.

"How'd you get here?" he asked, concerned.

"Oh, daddy dropped me off on his way to the church. I'll just walk down there when I leave here." She answered lightly, smiling up at him. Taking off her winter cloak, she twirled around, showing off her new dress (at least that's what he thought she was doing). "How do you like it?" she asked indicating the dress."It just came in from St. Louis. It's all the rage back east."

Jess grinned wryly before answering. To him, it looked like any other dress he'd seen women wear. "It's nice, Tabby; looks good on you." She practically glowed in response to his comment. She showed no sign of the wannabe-vixen she had been yesterday. She set about placing the food on the desk, motioning for him to sit and eat. She chatted amicably as he ate, placing the empty dishes back into the basket. He held her cloak for her, settling it over her shoulders as she fastened it in place. She turned, reaching up and planting a kiss on his cheek saying, "I'll see you tomorrow." Before picking up the basket and stepping outside.

Jess stepped outside his office. The church was at the end of town. It wasn't a long walk, but Jess was uncomfortable with her walking it alone. There had been no incidents in town, but it still went against his protective instincts for her to be walking alone. He shrugged. If Thomas thought it was all right, then he had no direct responsibility for her safety. Nevertheless, it bothered him anyway.

For the next few days, Tabby continued to arrive promptly at noon. Jess was growing used to, and liked, how Tabby wore her hair and dressed. He began looking forward to her daily visits. Sometimes she kept him company, others she'd just drop off the basket and leave. Sometimes she'd steal a kiss but she never again got Jess to hold her in his arms and kiss her passionately.

It was late when Jess closed up the office, heading for a quick beer at the saloon before turning in for the night. He noticed the lights were still burning in the church. He thought it odd that Thomas stayed so late, but figured he must be working on Sunday's sermon or something.

Sophie was a new girl at the saloon, but she had eyes only for Jess. Unlike the other girls, she wore her hair loose, tied back with a scarf. He loved running his fingers through the silky tresses, something he couldn't do with the other girl's coiffed hairdos. Tonight she wore a red satin dress that hugged her body, revealing a womanly body in her prime. She came to him as soon as he entered the saloon. His eyes drank her in as she crossed the floor. Sliding comfortably into his arms, she warmly returned his welcoming kiss before they journeyed back to the bar where he would buy them drinks. She knew he was good for buying several rounds. It was the only reason the owner allowed Jess to monopolize Sophie's time the few nights he stopped in after work. It was a generous gesture on Jess' part which kept her in very good standing with the bar's owner. She didn't mind that Jess was the Deputy, the law didn't bother her none. A law dog's money was as good as anyone else's money. Besides, Jess was easy on the eyes, treated her nicely, and was divine to be held and kissed by. Although asked, she never revealed if he had ever accompanied her upstairs or stayed the night. Whether he had or had not, she would never tell, merely smiling mysteriously with a dreamy look in her eyes.

The bar was lively and warm enough the doors stood open, welcoming the cool evening air. Brightly lit, it revealed everyone and everything to anyone who cared to look inside. Music and laughter spilled out into the night.

Thomas and Tabby drove slowly up Main Street. As they passed the saloon, a ripple of laughter echoed through the open doors. Jess and Sophie could be clearly seen among the crowd, arms around each other, laughing together. Sophie leaned in, whispering something to Jess who laughed as he nuzzled her neck before kissing her soundly, eliciting cat calls from the crowd.

Tabby stifled a gasp, angry with the hussy fawning over her man – and Jess! Jess was enjoying himself instead of being ashamed of his behavior. Tabby just knew it was entirely the saloon girl's fault that Jess had strayed. She ground her teeth. She'd show Jess. She'd show him good. He'd be sorry he even looked at another woman.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Without Jess' knowledge, Tabby had begun walking both to and from the church when she delivered his lunches. If he had known, he would have stopped her visits altogether. He thought Thomas was looking out for her welfare. No matter how tame the town was, it just wasn't a good thing for a young girl to walk around all on her own.

The day after seeing Jess in the saloon, Tabby began her walk to the Sheriff's office. On previous walks, she had noticed Luther Demotte hanging out at the Livery when she passed by. Today he stopped to speak to her. He was bashful as he asked if he could escort her on her walk. It was then Tabby got her idea of how to make Jess jealous. Smiling brilliantly at Luther, she accepted his offer to walk with her. Luther was more than happy to carry her basket, smiling when she slipped her arm through his, looking up adoringly into his eyes. He had noticed her daily treks to the Sheriff's office. He'd known Tabby a long time and always liked her. He'd been afraid their four-year age difference would be unacceptable. However, if she was interested in Jess Harper, who was much older, well then, his four-year advantage shouldn't be a problem.

Luther opened the door for Tabby, carrying the basket over to the desk and setting it down. Tipping his hat to her, he said he'd wait outside until she was ready, then he'd walk her back to the church. Jess had raised an eyebrow when Luther came in with Tabby, but was somewhat relieved she had an escort. He knew Luther worked at the Livery and came from a good family. However, Tabby became miffed when Jess did no more than watch Luther close the door behind him. Why, she thought – he was supposed to have been blind with jealous rage – but he wasn't.

Tabby sulked as Luther accompanied her back to the church. Once again, he tipped his hat to her, turning to return to the livery. He had just turned away when Tabby called him back. She descended the stair, meeting him at street level.

"Oh, Luther", she gushed. "I forgot to thank you." She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek.

Luther turned bright red. He stumbled over his words as he asked permission to escort her back and forth again on the morrow. Placing her hand on his arm, she answered "Yes" in a nearly breathless tone, looking at him with soft, doe eyes.

Luther had barely turned and started his walk back when Tabby began to scowl. Damn that Jess, she thought, he hadn't shown the least bit of jealousy. Tomorrow she would have to up her game. She dreaded kissing Luther on the lips, having no interest in him whatsoever, yet hoping it would motivate Jess into action. She imagined his reaction. It would be just like a scene from one of the novels she'd read. Jess would punch Luther out before he would grab her, pulling her into arms of steel as he ravaged her lips with his, declaring his undying love. He would kiss her so thoroughly she would go weak in the knees. He'd sweep her off her feet, carrying her away to a secluded location where he'd make love to her. And, once he had made love to her, he'd be honor bound to ask for her hand in marriage. Tabby sighed with pleasure knowing her man would fight to defend her honor before claiming her for himself.

Once again, Tabby was disappointed when Jess showed no signs of jealously. She had stood in the doorway of his office, blatantly kissing Luther. While Luther was enjoying his kiss, Tabby was casting her eyes at Jess, waiting for him to react. He had only looked up, seen that they were kissing and averted his head to give them privacy. He was not pleased that she was kissing in public, but again knew it was none of his business. He would keep an eye on her and Luther, making sure the boy didn't cross the line, but other than that, he could do nothing.

Tabby seethed with anger when Jess did nothing to interfere with Luther kissing her. Well, if that wasn't enough to make Jess jealous, she figured she'd just up her game some more. Jess would be hers – she was sure of it.

Two weeks had gone by with no sign of jealousy from Jess. Dr. Winters released Sheriff Tucker from his care, but did not clear him for duty. Balancing on crutches, the Sheriff's office was his first stop upon leaving the doctor's office. Jess filled him in on everything which had gone on while the Sheriff was incapacitated – which really didn't amount to anything. Jess recounted how he had patrolled the town as Tucker had taught him. He'd checked that all the businesses had locked doors and broken up a couple disagreements in the saloon. Actually, Jess found it all somewhat boring. However, it was infinitely better than his life on the owl hoot trail or fleeing bounty hunters and lawmen. He found he liked being on the right side of the law.

Tucker saw something more in Jess; something he liked and wanted to foster. He'd spend his days in the office, leg propped up, teaching Jess about the law and the right way to handle disturbances. He helped Jess see the differences in how situations could be handled without resorting to his gun. Tucker was pleased with his student. Jess would make a fine lawman. He had it all – grit, guts and a strong sense of right and wrong. He had heart and compassion. Yes, Jess had the makings of a future lawman – maybe evem a U.S. Marshal.

Once Tucker was cleared for full time duty again, he asked Jess to stay on as his Deputy. Jess felt honored, accepting readily. He found himself learning a great deal about life and law. Tucker was a great mentor, something he'd never had before, and he wanted to absorb everything the man could teach him. One day as they were patrolling the town together, Jess found himself looking up into the sky. His star no longer glowed brightly. He didn't know when he had stopped seeing it, and he didn't know what it meant. Perhaps he had found his place in the world – here as Deputy for Tucker. However, as with all things concerning Jess Harper, life could not go that easily for him.

With still no signs of jealousy from Jess, Tabby decided to use another tactic. She began to ignore Jess as much as possible, accepting Luther's request to court her.

Luther would rent a buggy for his courting. He'd pick Tabby up from the farm, bringing her into town, treating her to dinner at the diner, buying her flowers and little gifts. She always gushed over everything he gave her, although she'd promptly dump it in the trash at the first opportunity. She encouraged the boy to make even more grand gestures to win her affection. She hated his touch and kissing him but carried on the charade, pretending she couldn't get enough of Luther's affection. He attended church with her, holding her hand. Even though it was Luther who held her hand during services, Tabby always tried sitting next to Jess. Much to her dismay, he always managed taking a seat in another pew or making sure Ronny was between them. Encouraged by Tabby's affection and with her approval, Luther asked Mr. Jenkins for Tabby's hand in marriage.

CHAPTER TWENTY

As the harsh winter grudgingly given way to the first signs of spring, the town decided to celebrate the promised return of warmer weather by hosting a spring barn dance.

Luther was proud as a peacock as he entered the dance with Tabby at his side. He thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She could cook and sew; knew how to handle a team and so much more. She would be an ideal wife for him. He planned to buy his own farm, raise a few crops and animals. He had been pleased when she agreed she wanted children. Luther loved children and wanted a bunch of his own. He was kind and gentle with her, worshiping the ground she walked on. He loved how she felt in his arms and when he kissed her.

Tabby had almost thrown up when Luther talked about marriage and babies. She could imagine their children. Luther wasn't exactly hard on the eyes, but he just didn't have those smoldering looks Jess carried. He was tall and gangly, nothing like the compact body of Jess Harper. Tabby only tolerated Luther's touch and kisses by imagining it was Jess touching and kissing her.

Tabby always enjoyed the town dances. Luther was a good dancer. But so were all of the other young men who swarmed around, vying for their chance to dance with her. It wasn't long before Tabby forgot she was Luther's fiancée as she laughed and flirted with whoever was her current dance partner. She was enjoying herself immensely, basking in the attention showered upon her by the throng of men. Through it all, she kept looking for just one man – Jess Harper.

When Tabby finally spotted Jess, she thought her heart would burst right out of her chest. He cut a fine figure of a man in his black frock coat, silver brocade vest, black pants and polished high top boots. She could hardly breathe, watching as he crossed the dance floor. He was coming for her, she was sure of it. However, he didn't seem to have even seen her, instead asking one of the Sterling sisters to dance.

Tabby pulled a face at the thought of someone she considered an over-the-hill,prune-faced spinster dancing with her man. Infuriated, Tabby turned her attention back to James, her current dancing partner. He was considerably older than she was. Not as much older as Jess, but older than Luther. He was nice enough looking and would do just fine for what she had planned. It didn't take long to wrap him around her little finger by laughing breathlessly at his jokes, dropping her eyes flirtatiously, letting him know she found him incredibly attractive. When he suggested they step outside for a breath of fresh air, Tabby readily agreed. James placed her cloak around her shoulders before leading the way outside.

Hand in hand, they walked a little ways from the barn. Stopping in the shadow of a nearby tree, James was smooth as he took one of her hands in his, using his free hand to lift her chin so he could kiss her. It was a light, tentative kiss. When she didn't resist or pull away, he kissed her again. As she responded, their arms went around each other. Their kisses came more quickly, were longer, and more firm. His lips on her neck and shoulder sent shivers of delight down her spine. She didn't object when he unbuttoned the front of her jacket, his hands caressing her skin through the thin chemise she wore. When they slid to the ground together, his kisses intensified, enjoying the response he was eliciting from her. She was breathing heavily, begging for more and he was willing to oblige. She forgot it was James kissing and touching her, exciting her in ways Luther never could. She just knew this was how it would be with Jess as she imagined it was him whose hands sought out intimate places. "Oh, Jess." She moaned longingly, not realizing she had said it aloud.

She was too deep in her Jess fantasy to realize James had maneuvered her wrists into a position above her head. With one hand, he pinned both wrists to the ground. His touch and kisses become rougher until he grabbed her breast, causing her to cry out in protest. Then he slapped her. "Bitch" he spit out. "No one calls out another man's name when she's with me. Before we're through, you'll know exactly who I am and what I can do. You'll never forget the night you spent with James Dolan." When she started to struggle, he laughed and straddled her, his mouth covering hers while his free hand roamed over her body. There was nothing gentle in what he was doing to her. Her eyes widened in panic as she felt his hand slide between their bodies, unbuckling his belt. She suddenly knew she was no longer in control and it wasn't a game anymore. James was rough, hurting her, and she had the sense to be scared. She began to cry and struggle in earnest. She tried to cry out, but his mouth continued to cover hers, bruising her lips with harsh and demanding kisses.

Then suddenly she was free. She rolled onto her side, drawing her jacket back together to cover herself, sobbing and shaking all the while. She shook too badly to button the buttons. Somewhere in her confusion, she heard a fist striking flesh repeatedly. She gave a gasp as she recognized Tucker and another man pulling Jess off an unresisting James. Jess shook the men's hands away, straightening his jacket. He wiped the blood from his own mouth before rushing to Tabby's side. She went to him willingly when he bent to pick her up, knowing she'd be safe in his protective arms. Jess headed for Dr. Winters' office, ordering Luther to go get Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Jess was pacing the doctor's waiting room when Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins came in. He could only tell them what he knew – which wasn't much. Both he and Luther had noticed Tabby missing from the dance and went looking for her. Jess had found her as James Dolan was attacking her. Jess had ripped James away from her, decking him. James had fought back but Jess was a better fighter. He didn't tell them that Tucker and another man had had to pull him off James before he beat the man to death. He figured there would be consequences for his actions, but he didn't care. He'd protected his family as he'd promised Thomas he would do.

Tucker stopped in to check on Tabby's well-being, letting them know Dolan was locked up in jail but in dire need of Dr. Winters as soon as he was done examining Tabby. He pulled Jess aside, thoroughly upset that his Deputy – even though he was off duty – had nearly killed someone whom he should have only arrested. It fell on deaf ears because Jess wouldn't have changed a thing about how he had acted.

As it turned out, Tabby refused to press charges against James. However, James was adamant about pressing charges against Jess. He changed his mind quickly when the Prosecutor began listing a number of other charges he could file against James. James left town as soon as he was released from jail. No one was sorry to see the back end of James' horse as he rode away.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Jess felt at loose ends. He was now on the wrong foot with Tucker and he didn't feel right about returning to the Jenkins' home. He was conflicted over his feelings for Tabby. He'd come to like her visiting him every day while he worked at the jail. For a moment in time he had glimpsed what it could be like to have someone who cared about him; to have a home and family. Tabby was old enough to be considered a woman, taken as a wife, but was a child in experience. He knew, when the right person came along, she would be a good wife. He also knew his own life experience made him an unsuitable mate for her. He was sorry she had played Luther so badly. Luther was a fine young man. He would have been a good husband and would have treated her well. Although Jess felt protective of her, there still existed a wanderlust within him, preventing him from settling anywhere for long. He was definitely not husband material. Not now – maybe never.

Although Tucker had lectured Jess at length over the Tabby incident, he didn't fire him. Instead, he asked Jess to stay on longer. Jess gladly accepted, sensing there was still more Tucker could teach him – and it solved the issue of whether or not to move back in with the Jenkins.

Tucker taught Jess by challenging him to use his mind instead of his fists. Tucker would present Jess with a situation and challenge him to find a workable solution. There could be many answers to the challenge. It was Jess' job to find as many of them as he could – good, bad, or indifferent – and explain his reasoning. Sometimes it frustrated Jess, but he learned to control his anger and frustration. He learned to examine every situation from every possible angle. It was how Tucker taught Jess the fine elements of investigation.

As with Tucker's other teachings, Jess learned well and quickly. Yet, through it all, Jess kept getting the feeling there was something different about Tucker. Tucker was far too knowledgeable about the law and investigation techniques to have only been a small town sheriff. When asked, Tucker explained he'd been a dirt farmer who had gone broke. He'd taken the last of his money and ridden out with no direction in mind. He'd drifted into town, intending to stay for only a couple of nights. He'd been in the saloon enjoying a drink, minding his own business, when an argument broke out. It quickly escalated into a showdown. He'd stepped in, disarming both men and stopping the killing. The town had asked him to stay, electing him as sheriff. That had been 10 years ago.

Jess and Tucker took turns patrolling the town. Jess slowly became aware "his" star once again had begun to shine. It was small at first and this time had a tail, but each night it grew brighter and the tail a little longer. Jess wasn't sure he wanted to know what the re-occurrence of his star foretold, but he had to acknowledge he had felt the itch to move on.

One night while making his rounds, Jess felt a blinding pain exploding in his head. He was spun around, the momentum knocking him off the sidewalk, to land in the alley beside the general store. He never heard the rifle's report nor saw the muzzle flash of the bullet which felled him.

Vaguely, as if far away, he heard Tucker's boots pounding down the sidewalk. He heard gunshots exchanged before there was silence

Jess forced his eyes open. The full moon gave an eerie glow to the gun smoke haze surrounding Tucker. Jess watched the Sheriff's practiced hands methodically eject the spent shells from his handgun, before reloading and snapping the chamber shut. Jess continued to stare at the small town Sheriff, his eye widening in recognition – not that he'd ever actually met the man before – but he recognized him. Tucker saw the glimmer in Jess' eyes. With a wise and knowing look on his face, he spoke, "This feels familiar. Seems to me I rescued you in an alley last time. It's been a long time Jess." he acknowledged.

Jess had been maybe ten years old the night he had snuck into town. Jess wasn't supposed to go into town, but watching the nighttime goings on were his relief from the harsh sharecropper's life his family led. Town was where things happened. He'd sneak up under the saloon windows and watch in wonderment the wanton women (at least that's what his folks called them), and drinking men who wore guns. Strong hands had jerked Jess off his feet, shoving him behind a pickle barrel as an all out gunfight played out in his small Texas town. He never did know what the fight had been about, but he remembered Tucker. Tucker had worn a long black waistcoat then. His hat, pants and boots had been black, his polished boots reflecting the moonlight. He'd carried pearl handled revolvers on both hips – and was a wanted man. He'd stood in the exact same stance, surrounded by a haze of gun smoke, as he had ejected the spent shells from his gun, replacing them with fresh ones. He'd nodded at the child hiding behind the barrel before making his escape, never to be seen again.

"Kincaid!" Jess rasped out, knowing his mentor was none other than Samuel Tucker Kincaid, notorious gunman and retired United States Marshal.

Over the years, Jess had heard various rumors. It was said Kincaid was dead, buried in an unmarked grave in the New Mexico desert. Other rumors said Kincaid had escaped to Canada, far away from any law enforcement's reach. Yet other rumors said the gunman had gone straight, becoming a United States Marshal – only to disappear after he retired.

He could feel Tucker's hand on his shoulder, knew he was speaking, but Jess couldn't make sense of any of it. Tucker knelt, helping Jess to his feet. He supported Jess as he led him towards the doctor's office.

"I wondered if you'd remember." Tucker said.

"I remember. You saved my life that night." Jess mumbled, sagging as his legs threatened to give out before reaching the doctor.

"Naw, Jess, I just put you out of harm's way." He'd said. Then more softly, "Just like now, boy. Just like now." Tucker carried Jess the rest of the way.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Jess awoke with a groan. He had a splitting headache which threatened to make him sick. He fought down the feeling, not wishing to show his weakness by throwing up – even if he was in the doctor's office. He touched a hand to the bandage encompassing his head, the light touch sending pain screaming down his nerve endings. He groaned again, dropping his hand back to the bed. He wasn't about to repeat that mistake. It hurt just to move and the room kept spinning. He was having trouble focusing his eyes. He hated head wounds; they were such buggers to get over.

Closing his eyes so the room would stop spinning, he asked "How long?"

"Two days." Came Tucker's reply.

"Why?" Jess questioned.

"Why what?" countered Tucker. "Why'd you get shot or why do I go by Tucker?"

Jess grinned in spite of himself. He'd left himself open for that one. "Both." He answered, wincing once more.

"Well, as to why you got shot, it seems James Dolan wasn't very forgiving of you beating him. It was him that shot you." Tucker paused. "Lucky for you he was a bad shot. He's dead, Jess. I killed him." He patted Jess' shoulder. "Just rest now, Jess, just rest. Doc said it would be a couple days before you're back on your feet."

There was an awkward silence between them. Jess figured Tucker wasn't going to explain why he didn't go by Kincaid, although the Sheriff's hand still rested on Jess' shoulder.

"Jess," Tucker began slowly. "Only you and Doc know who I really am. I'd like to keep it that way."

Jess opened his eyes to meet Tucker's, nodding his agreement, immediately regretting the movement. He waited, still figuring Tucker wouldn't tell him his story.

"Most of the rumors are true. I went straight." He laughed softy. "Well, I tried to go straight. I drifted for quite a while, put some pretty good distance between my reputation and me. However, I got caught and sent to prison. That's where I studied law. What I didn't know, was that the Marshal who arrested me had kept tabs on me. When I'd served my time, he sought me out. He thought he'd seen something good in me, offered me a job, trained me and eventually got me into the Marshals." He paused, patting Jess' shoulder once more before withdrawing his hand. "I spent many a good year working for the Marshals. Then the time came to retire. I thought I'd finally have time to settle down, enjoy what time I had left. Unfortunately, that wasn't to be. The things I did as an outlaw and even more things I did as a lawman came back to haunt me. There was always someone lurking around somewhere who wanted to even the score for a past grievance. That's how the New Mexico rumor got started. There's a grave there all right – it contains my hat, jacket, boots, and those damned pearl handled guns. I dropped out of sight and quit using the name Kincaid. The rest of what I told you about coming here is true. I stepped in and stopped a gunfight that day. I've been here ever since."

Jess didn't know what to say. His own life paralleled Kincaid's so closely it was scary. But it gave him hope. Hope that one day he wouldn't be a hunted man. Hope that one day he'd find his place in the world – a place he could settle down and live a normal life - a life which didn't require him to live by the gun.

They talked for a little while before Jess began dozing off. Tucker rose and left the doctor's office.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

It was only a few days later when Jess resumed his Deputy duties. Dr. Winters objected, but gave up, knowing Jess would do as he wanted, which meant ignoring the doctor's sage advice. Jess didn't mean to be rude to the doctor, but the itch to move on was growing stronger.

At night, as he patrolled the town, he could see his star glowing brightly, its tail nearly reaching to the earth. Jess knew the day was close at hand when he would follow the star, letting it lead him where it would. It had led him to the Jenkins' home, saving him from freezing in the storm. It had kept him warm as he waited for help the day he'd rescued Ronny at the lake. It had led him to the injured deer, providing them desperately needed meat. He couldn't dispute the significance of the light in his life.

Jess was brushing Traveler in the livery when Thomas stopped in. He made some small talk before letting Jess know Tabby was recovering fine. She was a little older and a little wiser, but unfortunately, still fancied herself in love with him. Jess' coming to her rescue the night of Dolan's attack had solidified in her mind how much he loved her. Jess cursed himself for being the one who had caught Dolan – it would have been far better if Luther had found them. Thomas and Maude were beside themselves, unsure of how to handle the situation. He assured Jess he knew he had done nothing to encourage her.

Jess was at a loss himself. He could go to Tabby and reaffirm he had no intention of marrying her but was fairly sure she wouldn't believe him. She's most likely take his visit, in spite of denying any interest in matrimony, was a secret message of his love; that he'd be waiting until she was ready for him. He knew a visit was out of the question. He'd do nothing to encourage her adolescent fantasies.

Jess wasn't even aware he had looked upwards.

Thomas followed Jess' gaze, still seeing only blue sky. "It's calling you isn't it? Some day you'll get the itch to move on. When it happens, don't be afraid to follow it. Let your star guide you. If your star hadn't guided you here, no one would have been around to hear Ronny when he fell into the frozen pond and we would have lost him. But you were here, and we are blessed he is still with us. Whatever light guided you to our doorstep was meant for only you to see." He paused, taking a deep breath. "I told you before, Jess, I can't see your light, but I know it is there. Follow it – it will take you home."

It was then Jess knew it was time to leave. His destiny awaited somewhere beyond the horizon. Tabby might pine for him when he was gone, but she would get over it. Only his absence would allow her to heal and move on with her life, to grow up and mature, as a woman should.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Jess had dreaded telling Tucker he was leaving. To his surprise, Tucker already knew. He had sensed the restlessness in Jess – a feeling he'd known many times himself as he had traveled the owl hoot trail. It was something that stirred within oneself until it could be ignored no longer. Relieved, Jess set about his plans for leaving.

The morning of his planned departure, winter scored a last hurrah, coating the landscape with a thick blanket of pure white snow.

Saddling Traveler, Jess turned when he heard the soft swish of a woman's skirt. Half afraid it was Tabby, he was surprised to see Mrs. Jenkins. She placed a bag on a barrel near Traveler's stall.

"You're leaving, aren't you?" she asked.

He couldn't lie to her as he nodded his head. "Yes, Ma'am. It's time I be moving on."

"Today?" She asked, regret in her voice.

He paused in his saddling to look up at her. "Yes, Ma'am."

She nodded. "Your star is calling you isn't it?"

"You know?" He asked, relieved she understood.

She nodded again. She stepped forward then and brushed the wayward lock of hair from his forehead before resting her hand on his cheek. It was a motherly touch, one which warmed his heart and he'd remember for a long time to come. He fought the urge to stay with the people he had come to care about. "Trust your star, Jess. It will always lead you home – where ever that may be."

When Mrs. Jenkins stepped back again, there were tears in her eyes. She wiped them away as she turned to leave the barn. At the door she stopped. Without looking back, she said. "We're leaving for church now, Jess. Tabby thinks you'll be joining us and I'm not going to tell her different. In that bag I brought you, you'll find some food and things for your journey." She stifled a sniffle as she stepped through the door, closing it behind her.

Jess stared at the closed door, a mixture of emotions swirling within him. But the pull was too strong, he knew he had to leave. He stepped to where she had placed the bag, surprised and pleased to find it filled with food and clothing. A second bag he hadn't noticed contained oats for Traveler. Jess voiced a soft "thank you" before filling his saddle bag. He waited until he was sure they were in church before leading Traveler outside and mounting.

Jess rode to the hill overlooking the small town. He could hear the congregation singing hymns and felt a pang of regret. Sighing deeply, he took in the countryside surrounding him. The fresh snow left the scenery nearly pristine, the only tracks were those on the road leading to town. It was too early in the year for the sun to be rising; leaving the sky brilliantly lit by the moon and stars shining over the snow covered fields, the light dancing like diamonds. But above it all shone a star of great magnitude, its tail stretching down to some point on the horizon, alighting a path that beckoned him.

The air was crisp and cold, both man and beast's breath hovering in the still air. Jess urged his horse forward, following the light which called him. Only the moon and stars witnessed the lone horse and rider slowly making their way along the frozen tundra. They left silent footprints in the snow as they put distance between themselves and the town behind them. By the time the congregation exited church, the sun had risen, melting the snow and wiping away any evidence of the rider's exit or even his very existence. Only a select few people would remember the stranger who, for a time, had lived among them.

Jess knew his time he had spent in the small town had changed him. He found himself wanting what the Jenkins had – a home and family. He also wanted what Tucker had found – peace and respectability; a break from a life he hadn't chosen, a chance to start anew. Tucker had given him hope that such a life was possible, but he knew it wasn't in this time or this place. Somewhere beyond the horizon lay his destiny. He wasn't worried about his future even though he had no idea where he was headed. Time would reveal all he needed to know because he he knew he had. . . . . A STAR TO GUIDE HIM.

The end