Chapter Two

The stagecoach pulled into the relay station, the driver's full attention on its apparent vacancy, his concern growing with each second that went by without someone there to greet him. Mose hollered each man's name more than once, the boy's only a single time, his hands placed on his hips as he slowly turned his head as the only reply that came to him was a dim echo. He ran a sleeve over his face, dotted with raindrops that continued to fall from the sky, adding to the accumulating mud puddles across the yard, ones that were quickly covering up any telling marks in the soft ground.

Mose clomped his boots across the porch and leaned inside the door that had been left ajar, another shout readied on his tongue, but as his mouth came open, his voice was silenced there in his throat. Jess' hat lay upside down on the floor, the sight too unusual to dismiss, but there was something else in the room out of the ordinary, and this made Mose's heart rate suddenly increase. He walked inside and inching closer to the table, his foot found remnants of a lamp, the glass crunching underneath into the floorboards. It hadn't been dropped, it hadn't been smashed, at least not by anything sizable, but it had met its demise by a bullet. But whose?

Mose ran back through the door, his feet sloshing through the mud in a straight aim for the barn, afraid what he might find behind its closed door. Taking a deep breath, Mose pulled the door open, his eyes needing to blink a few times to adjust to the dimmer light, already creating a wince on his face at what might be hiding in the darkness. But there was nothing there. Mose walked through the barn twice, its emptiness matching the hollow, fearful emotion running through his middle. Something was wrong, but how severe, Mose couldn't yet begin to understand. Yet he was one step closer.

Mose looked down, the shaft of pale light from the open door slightly illuminating across the floor showing it smattered with dirt and hay, but there was something else dotting the ground. He bent down, but he didn't need to touch it to fully know what it was, but he let a finger press into it anyway. Blood. Someone was bleeding. And hopefully that someone wouldn't have better been defined in multiples.

Everything was behind him in a blur, as Mose found speed that his aging body hadn't seen in years as he quickly exchanged the team of horses. Of all the days to be in the driver's seat without a shotgun man, but Mose had the horses swapped in the same amount of time if one of the younger employees of the Great Central Overland Mail had been with him anyway. He was just about to get back in the seat on top of the empty coach when a horse nickered from the trail behind the barn and Mose filled his hand before stepping his feet back onto the ground.

Walking slowly, fully aware that he didn't carry anything near a professional skill with a sidearm, Mose still prepared himself to fire the weapon in case there was a rider approaching that he didn't want to meet. He flattened against the wall of the barn and took a deep breath as the sound of not one, but two horses met his ears. And they were coming his way. Mose knew something terrible had happened at the ranch, Slim, Jess, Jonesy and even Andy could all be dead, and if not to that extreme, could still be in grave danger, and the ones responsible for the harm could be right around the corner. He couldn't balk, couldn't run, but he had to face them head on.

"Hold it right there!" Mose shouted, stepping out into the open, but the only thing reacting to his command were the two mounts, without anyone seated in their saddles and he soon replaced his gun inside of his holster. They weren't any outlaw's horses, as Mose recognized the pair immediately that belonged to Slim and Jess, and he hurried his steps to the anxious horses, being first met by Jess' faithful bay.

"I think you're tryin' ta tell me somethin'," Mose rubbed his hand up Traveler's nose. "And I think I kinda know too. Somethin' real bad's happened and you prolly saw it all. Where's Jess, huh, do you know?"

Mose knew the horse would never answer, but it did appear as if the animal had understood to some extent, for Traveler's head turned toward the north. Mose's eyes followed, and there, slanting around the hillside, were a set of wagon tracks, the indent into the soft ground enough to be filled by the consistently falling rain. They would eventually dissolve into one muddy mass, but at least for now, Mose knew a source and a direction. The weight of worry was placed too heavily on his shoulders, otherwise he would have smiled at his discovery, but his hand gave a final pat to Traveler's neck in gratitude.

"I'd let you lead the way, Fella, but I gotta git ta town," Mose said, putting his left hand on one set of reins and his right on the other, leading the reluctant pair into the barn. "I don't want you ta start wanderin' all over and git inta trouble. This is a job for the sheriff, not a coupla horses and a solitary old man like me. I'll get you settled in and then head for Laramie."

The Laramie road never knew a stagecoach could be driven that fast. Mose left the stagecoach at the depot with less than a word of greeting to the superintendent, his steps taking him directly to Sheriff Mort Cory's office, the fear just as prevalent in his veins as it was when he'd discovered the barren stage stop. Maybe now even more, because the story that he'd stumbled into could very well have a horribly bad ending.

"There's somethin' wrong out at the Sherman ranch," Mose announced before the sheriff's office door swung shut behind him. "Nobody's there, a lamp was all shot up in the house, Slim and Jess' horses were wanderin' loose, all saddled up and everythin', and ta top it all off, I found blood in the barn."

"How much blood?" Mort asked, his hand already reaching for his hat, knowing that he'd be hurrying out as soon as the information was relayed to his ears. "Gunshot amount? Less?"

"Less," Mose narrowed his hands to the approximate size that he'd found. "There ain't much relief in that though, is there? I gotta bad feel about all of it."

"What else did you find out there?" Mort asked, prodding for more to gauge his next step. Go out there alone, or go out there with a posse.

"Oh, yeah," Mose tapped his head with his finger, "I 'most forgot. Wagon tracks headin' north. I woulda missed it if it weren't for Slim and Jess' horses bein' over there. I reckon they wanted to pull out after their master's were took out."

Mort nodded slowly. Posse. "Thanks, Mose. I'll get right out and start gathering men."

"Mort?" Mose asked, a slight trembling in his voice. "Can I come along? That family, they's as close to bein' my own."

"All right, Mose," Mort nodded, understanding the stage driver's words, for that family, they were close to being his own, too. "I'll get you a horse. Pick out a rifle and meet me at the livery."

The group of riders left Laramie's livery under the damp drizzle, but arrived at the Sherman ranch with a large enough break in the clouds that showed proof that blue existed above the gray. The sky had produced enough moisture to nearly eliminate every trace of evidence in the mud, but they had enough to start northerly. It was mostly an invisible line they followed, but where the trail was naturally rockier, the wagon tracks could be seen where it had bounced, leaving enough marks to know they were heading in the right direction, but that was soon about to change.

The tracks had disappeared nearly a mile behind them and now being paused at a crossroads, Mort didn't know which way to turn. They weren't large enough numbers to split. It was either take one direction or the other, and either way could lead to nothingness if anywhere in the past mile the wagon had taken a turn. Mort twisted in the saddle and looked behind him, giving a slight shake of his head. He wasn't going to go back. It had to be either left or right. The terrain was similar in both ways, but one of the trails wound up into much higher ground that wouldn't support wagon wheels. This was why Mort chose the opposite. With a wave of the sheriff's hand, the posse continued onward.

And high upon that very hillside, concealed behind a rock, a large man waited, his eyes squinting into the distance at the group of men on horseback. He held a rifle and a significant skill to use it, and he never turned down an opportunity to hone it. Now it began to appear that he would have his chance, for the posse's leader was bringing them his way.

…

The wagon came to a stop, an unknown amount of miles away from where it had started at the Sherman ranch. No one in the cramped quarters of its rear could follow the amount of time that had passed, just that it had been too long since they'd last been on their feet. Jess attempted to rise when two thuds on the ground indicated that the wagon seat was now emptied, making it up to one knee, but then the front of his shirt was gripped by a fist, and the next thing he knew, Jess was on the ground. Even tied as he was, Jess wanted to fight back with everything that was in him, but although someone strong had jerked him out of the wagon, he had a feeling that no one was standing over him anymore.

"Perfect," a man's voice suddenly said as two hands clapped together, bringing three heads in the wagon and one on the ground upward. A set of footsteps approached the wagon, but the squishing in the waterlogged earth hadn't begun where the voice had originated, making Slim and Jess' ears turn toward the one that was walking closer to them. "Take them inside, Rex. Make them all comfortable."

Still blindfolded, the descriptive of inside and comfortable varied from one imagination to the other, yet none of them expected to be led into a warm, dry home where there would be a plush settee for each of them, but something much worse. Already being out of the wagon, Rex began with Jess, sliding a knife through the rawhide around Jess' ankles and then with a poking of a rifle in his ribs, ordered him to stand. His first step was produced by a shove, but before the next one was given, Jess complied, taking blinded steps forward until he nearly collided with a wall. Jess was jerked to one side by his arm, another shove pushing him through what must have been a doorway, the rank scent entering his nose telling him that it was nothing more than a shack.

Rex jabbed the rifle into his chest and with more of a grunt than an actual enunciation, Jess was forced to sit, his back feeling the iron rod sticking out of the floor that would be his sole support. His hands were reworked, the threads that had wrapped around his wrists were now woven around the bar, but this time, his ankles were left alone. Jess dropped his head against his chest, his teeth trying to remove the bandana from his mouth and just as he thought his jaw couldn't take one more ounce of strain, the fabric was yanked out of his mouth. Jess tried to bark a retort, but nothing could form on his tongue, the result of his failure to speak bringing an irritating chuckle through Rex' lips. Another attempt in Jess' throat only produced a growl, but it would have been enough to intimidate if the man had not have held tightly to a gun. Rex gave another smirk and then ripped the bandana from Jess' eyes, and with a spin of his heels, Rex walked back through the doorway, practically dragging Jonesy back in.

Jess turned his eyes around the room, which wasn't more than a wooden box with a roof. If there were more than twelve feet in each direction, Jess would have been surprised. Against two walls were the iron rods in the shape of a "T", hammered deeply into the ground and rising several feet above the dirt floor. Jess was secured to one, there was an empty space to his right, and now Jonesy was being tied to one on the adjacent wall. Jess watched as Rex returned to the open door, and craning his head as far as he could stretch, as Andy was being lifted out of the wagon, Jess saw another man standing near the front of the wagon, dressed in a gray suit, topped off with a perfectly bowed tie. He frowned, but the gesture was intensified when Andy's struggling limbs were roughly dropped into the dirt next to Jonesy.

"Ease up," Jess snapped, grateful that his voice could finally match his inner fury. "Why don't you come over here and try that rough stuff with me? Uh-huh, I didn't think you were that brave."

Rex barely gave him a glance, but there was a definite stomp to his feet as the man returned outside, coming back in with Slim. When Slim was tied to his rod next to Jess and removed of both confining handkerchiefs, Rex gave Jess a look that held a significant amount of scathing, but it appeared the man knew his orders. He left through the door without further retaliation, his imminent return unlikely as the sound of the door going locked could be heard by each set of ears. They had been together at this nightmare's beginning, but for the first time since it had begun, the four of them were together without their visual and vocal restraints, but more importantly, they were away from those that had done them harm.

"Is everyone all right?" Slim's voice could only produce a small volume. He swallowed repeatedly, trying to get his tongue and throat to return to a normal feeling. He worked his jaw back and forth and after emitting a slight sound from the back of his throat that contained more force, he repeated the question, taking his eyes from one to the other as both Jess and Andy gave him a nodded reply.

"I think so, Slim," Jonesy gave a slight sigh, his mouth set in a straight line. "Just don't ask me about my back."

"Bad?" Slim prompted with an eyebrow raised, concern etching over every corner of his face.

"I said not to ask, didn't I?" Jonesy answered, starting to shake his head, but then his eyes caught the red stain on Slim's cream shirt that had run past the collar and created a dark circle around the stitching on his upper arm. "Slim! You're bleeding!"

"Not anymore, Jonesy," Slim turned his head so that Jonesy could see closer to the back of his skull. "I got clubbed a good one when they first took hold of me. I didn't notice it bleeding until I was thrown in the wagon."

"I reckon you musta dripped some of it by me," Jess rubbed his fingers together, remembering the warm, wet touch in the wagon. "I was worried that it was you, Andy. Those were your legs hugging my frame, weren't they?"

"Yeah," Andy answered softly, the catch of fear sounding in his voice. "You probably felt them shaking, didn't you, Jess?"

"Sure," Jess shrugged, giving Andy a reassuring smile, even if it only tugged upward on his mouth a little to the side, "but it didn't bother me none. We were all bouncing around so much in the wagon bed that I barely even noticed."

"You're not ashamed of me, are you Jess?" Andy asked, his eyes dropping down to the ground.

"Ashamed?" Jess barely breathed the word, darting his eyes quickly to Slim to see if he had any more understanding than he did to Andy's query, but Slim only gave a slight shake of his head. "Why would I be ashamed of you, Andy?"

"Because of being so afraid," Andy answered, bringing his eyes back up to meet Jess' gaze, now glistening with tears. "You're always so brave, Jess, and I'm scared."

"Andy," Jess started, his voice soft with emotion as he looked at Andy, wishing instead that he could wrap an arm around the boy. "A man learns how to not show his fear, but that don't mean it ain't there."

"But Jess…"

"Wait, there's more," Jess said, the truth of his words shining in his blue eyes. "There ain't no room for shame in a man's heart when it's full of pride. And that's what's in mine for you."

"Thanks, Jess," Andy sniffled, a wobbly smile casting out some of the shadows in the room.

"Sure wish they would've given me a pillow to sit on," Jonesy frowned, trying to find a position less severe, but none existed. "I wonder who they are?"

"Dunno," Jess answered, shifting his own weight as the discomfort had begun before he'd even sat down. "You know, that Rex fella, now I can see him being able to haul our carcasses off the ranch, but that dude out there? Nah, he ain't the type."

"Oh, they aren't the ones that took us," Andy said, shuddering anew at the sight of both men that had clutched him.

"They ain't?" Jess asked, still shifting his legs. "I never got a look at any of 'em, course being knocked out didn't help things none."

"They looked like Indians," Slim said, getting a nod out of Jonesy, "maybe half-breeds. Big, too, both of them taller than me by a few inches at least. Whoever they are, they aren't meant for gentle handling."

"You're telling me," Jess winced, his head still feeling the blow that he'd been given.

"Jess," Slim looked over at Jess, watching him move his legs around in his discomfort, he saw an extra bulk underneath a layer of dirt at the top of his boot. "Is that your knife still in your boot?"

"I'll be dad-gummed," Jess turned his foot over, revealing the knife handle sticking up alongside his lower leg. "They musta overlooked it with all that mud I'm wearing. I wonder if I can…"

They didn't have to wonder for long. Jess stuck the tip of his left foot on the top of his right boot and pushed, inching the boot down until he could slip his foot free. Sliding his socked foot over the boot, he turned it over and then using the spur of his other, with a precise aim that took only two tries to conquer, pulled the knife free. There were three collective sighs of relief as the knife hit the ground, but Jess kept his breath held, using both feet to pull the knife closer to where he might be able to pick it up with his teeth.

"Hold up, Jess," Slim whispered, his head whipping from watching Jess' attempt at freedom to the door, hearing the click of the lock unlatching as the knob started to be turned. "Someone's coming."

"Dad-gum," Jess muttered, quickly shoving his foot back into the boot. He dropped a leg over the knife as the door opened, but part of the blade wasn't completely covered.

"Gentlemen," the man in the suit spoke as he stepped through the doorway with the one called Rex on his heels. "I hope you're comfortable enough."

"Who wouldn't be?" Slim asked, his voice heavy with sarcasm. He looked past the two men toward the open door, searching for the ones that had brought them there, but there were no movements anywhere that he could detect. If they had gone, leaving Rex and Mr. Suit alone, maybe they could end this before it would go any further if Jess could put his knife to use.

"Looking for someone?" He crossed his arms over his gray jacket, his eyes narrowing in on Slim.

"Not really," Slim answered, keeping his eyes locked with the man in formal attire. "You're not the one that took us."

"Very astute," the man nodded, a half smile slithering up the side of his face. "The man in charge never does the dirty work, and that Mr. Sherman, is me. So no, those honors go to Bull and Snake, a pair of half-breed brothers that work for me. They run fast and can accomplish nearly any task in complete silence, and they hold the ability to kill without their victim knowing what's happening. That should be useful information to know, don't you think?"

"I'd rather know more about you," Slim said, making the smile disappear.

"Fair enough. My name's Cross. Carlyle Cross. You might hear some of my men call me C.C. But don't think any of you will ever have that privilege."

"I wouldn't," Slim said with a shake of his head, trying not to look at Jess, because he knew his partner had needed to move his legs to fully conceal the knife, and at that moment, it had happened.

"Rex," Cross' eyes darted from Rex to Jess, giving a nod in Jess' direction. "I don't miss much, Harper."

In a few short strides, Rex was in front of Jess, giving him a swift kick in his right leg, the handle of the knife in his hand before any of them could blink. "I got it, C.C."

"That could stand for coward or clown, you know," Jonesy said, his eyes crashing closed a second later. The knife was thrown and it sliced through the air, piercing the wall a mere inch from Jonesy's left ear.

"If I want your backtalk Jonesy, I'll request it," Cross said sharply.

He knew them all. Slim had never laid eyes on this man before and his name was just as unfamiliar, yet Cross had called Slim, Jess, and Jonesy by name. Slim took a deep breath, but it wasn't enough to squelch the heat rising in his middle. Slim watched through narrow slits as Rex pulled the knife out of the wall and clutched the handle in his hand. He'd only spent a short time in their presence, yet Slim had already had enough. He wanted an answer. None of this was happening for nothing.

"What do you want?" Slim asked firmly.

"You're clever, Sherman," Cross said, the smile on his face sickeningly smug, "you know I want something. It's true. I do. But I'll let you know what it is in due time, but you can guarantee that I'll get it."

"How?" Slim asked, something tapping his temples that the answer was to be feared.

"Because I'm ruthless. I think now's a good time to show you how far I'll go to get what I want. Rex," Cross snapped his fingers, "cut the boy loose."

"No! Leave him be!" Slim shouted, his eyes darting away from Cross to rest upon his brother's face, seeing it full of fear from Andy's dark eyes to the slight tremble of his lips. Both Sherman's winced when Jess' knife sliced through the binds behind Andy's back, another one coming when Rex' hand gripped around Andy's wrist and hauled him to his feet.

"You're not in authority here, Sherman," Cross pointed to his chest, his voice carrying a distinct chill. "I am. Come here, boy. I said… come here."

"Leave him alone, Cross," Slim said, his own voice carrying a dose of ice shards, but the sound would soon begin to melt when the man's hand clamped down on Andy's shoulder. His pulse was already going at a rapid pace, but it accelerated several more notches when Cross started leading Andy toward the door, matching with something in Slim's middle that had just reached its boiling point. "Don't you take him out of here! Cross! I don't know what you want but I'll give it! Cross! No! Let him go! Cross! Listen to me! I'll give it! Cross!"

But it was as if Cross couldn't hear a word, his grip never releasing from Andy's flesh as he took him out of the shack. The sharp words went quiet as Slim's mouth went dry. His body turned rigid, his eyes never leaving the door that Andy had been led through, but upon its closing, Jess began twisting and turning his wrists, trying to release his body from its tight hold. Jess could feel the dampening of blood start to drip down his fingers, but even though it brought him pain, it gave Jess a vital edge. The moisture made the rawhide move, and Jess' pace increased, wiggling his fingers, straining every part of his hands, wrists and arms. His fingers were beginning to loosen the hold around his wrists when his body was suddenly jolted by a gunshot. His head snapped toward the door, the breath caught in his throat, time and fear suspended in the air. Then there was a second shot.

"My God," Jonesy whispered, his head bowing, a tear threatening to trickle down his wrinkled cheek.

The third blast seemed to shake the building, or perhaps it was the breaking of each heart.

"No," Slim's voice cracked, his face as ashen as if he were dead.

The fourth shot seemed to be felt in every chest, the men frozen in dread and pain.

"Andy," Jess barely whispered, hatred igniting the fire throughout his entire body, shining in the sparks of his eyes and the increased pumping of torrid air through his chest.

The fifth and sixth shots came with little time in between, their bodies flinching with each, everything inside as damaged as if the bullets had penetrated into their own flesh.

And then there was silence.

:.:.:

A huge shout out to Kappa Girl, who gave me a light bulb moment at her request to include Mort and Mose in the story! I had originally planned on only the core four as characters, but it was only a few minutes after receiving her review that I had the added story arc in mind. Thank you! Also, NicknHotchfan wanted Mort and Mose included, so a nod goes to you as well.

Thanks to kcandsting, your reminder of Jess having a knife in his boot was put to good use, although probably not to Jess' liking.

Another handshake of thanks goes to Nakoosay, requesting that I take care of Alamo and Traveler, her tender heart showing toward Laramie's favorite animals. Also a thank you goes to WillowDryad, as I gave a slight nod to her wish to see Traveler want to untie himself and save the day. He gave an attempt, but to tie Nakoosay and WillowDryad's requests together, I had to take care of them and not let them wander for long.