Chapter Five
Judge Barnaby Cade stared in wide-eyed shock as Jess' body hit the ground. His focus wasn't without fuzz, but even if he would have been as blind drunk as the night before, it still would have been obvious that the man who had done the striking was pure evil. His shotgun was out of his reach, what with the way Jess had barreled into him, but since the Indian looking fellow handled his rifle like he meant to use it, Cade easily deduced that Jess had saved his life. Harper had some of those angel wings himself. And by the way Cade felt inside, maybe Jess hadn't been so far off about him wearing a partially tarnished pair.
"What're…" Cade hiccupped, inching backward as the brutish man stomped in his direction, expecting a similar treatment to what Jess had received. "What're you gonna do with me?" Cade spoke with enough slurred speech that it was obvious that he had happily coddled a bottle in the night. He opened his mouth again, this time to declare his long list of accolades in the outlaw business to prove that he wasn't among the innocent, but promptly closed it as the towering man picked up the shotgun.
"Nothing," the terse voice replied, except in the Judge's eyes, his nothing turned into something. The half-breed carried the shotgun to the closest rock, and with a forceful thrust, smashed the weapon until pieces of the iron dropped to the slushy ground.
"Of all the…" Cade began, but by the glaring look that flashed his way, he thought it best to shut up.
The Judge kept his low position, his eyes following the man as he returned to Jess' side, and with one easy motion, hoisted Jess up and over his shoulder. Strong, was a label that Cade tacked onto the half-breed who was starting to walk silently away, but if there would be another, it would be coldblooded, and maybe added later on, killer. There was a trail of blood following the man's steps, belonging to Jess. The blow to Harper's head had broken the skin, the drips meaning that he was still alive, but how long before Strong'n'Coldblooded permanently changed that? Cade craned his head, waiting until the tall man disappeared, and then he scrambled to his feet.
"Of all the danged brutes," Cade mumbled as he gathered his meager belongings. "Busting an old man's shotgun, busting a young man's head. Why I oughta get on his trail and show him what for."
But Judge Barnaby Cade didn't hold the fire of a young man anymore. Oh, there was still fire all right, especially when he poured the liquid kind down his throat, but where it counted the most, it was only part of a memory of his younger self. Yet, Cade hadn't felt this angry in years, and he couldn't attribute his feelings because one of his peers smashed his shotgun into bits. For Jess? If there had been someone there to listen to him, the Judge could have argued on why he should even care about Jess Harper anyway. They weren't kin, they weren't friends and topping it off, he had taken away Cade's hard-earned loot, so why did his blood come close to boiling when the half-breed hauled Jess away like he was a worthless carcass? Cade hadn't felt the least bit of sorrow when all of his partners from the Choctaw Johnson gang had bit the dust, so why bother with Jess?
Cade shrugged, maybe not fully knowing the answer, but fully knowing his next step. When his horse was readied, the Judge mounted, his eyes latching onto the trail of blood that Jess had made. They would be easy to trace, at least until the temperature rose enough to switch the form of precipitation, but he wouldn't be following the path. Cade had known all kinds, from the worst to the very worst, and it was easy to place this ruffian, or at least the man he worked for, high on the list, which made his decision quite clear. Jess' help wouldn't be coming from a crusty, old outlaw, but from someone that could do the job much better. He nudged his horse forward, searching for a trail to Laramie.
Cade had never been good at directions, and he might have taken the wrong path if the Judge hadn't stumbled upon the blood soaked trail of the posse. He studied the ground, taking note of the various marks and then he nudged his horse to follow the retreating tracks. Looking up into the gray sky that now was warm enough to only produce rain, he couldn't gauge the time, only that it wasn't yet noon, and that was mostly because his middle hadn't started rumbling for his afternoon swig of whiskey.
Another mile down the trail, Cade pulled his horse to an abrupt stop, as two men with two horses were suddenly in his way. Trusting no one, Cade squinted into the distance, only pushing his mount forward once more when one of the men suddenly dropped to the ground. If the man had dark hair and a chiseled jaw, Cade would have hurried, but as it wasn't a familiar face, he kept his pace slow. When a white haired man raised a gun in his direction, Cade's hands went slowly up, his head starting to shake back and forth.
"You ain't got no quarrel with me," Cade's voice had lost its drunken quiver, holding his normal edge of gravel. "'Sides, I ain't even got a weapon."
"It's all right, Mose," Mort said, trying to pull his feet back underneath him. When he had fallen, Mort had clearly heard the rider approach, but knew in one glance that it wasn't an enemy approaching. At least, he didn't quite think Judge Barnaby Cade was that kind of trouble. "Judge, I never would've expected to find you out here."
"I'm full of surprises," Cade slid out of his saddle and walked with somewhat wobbly steps to Mort's side. "Can I give you a hand?"
"Thanks," Mort nodded as Cade's hands went under his arms to lift him up, "we both could use one about now."
"Imagine me, helpin' a danged lawman," Cade grunted, shaking his head back and forth, Mort's badge like a blazing emblem on his chest. "That boy out there with the fast gun and honest face sure rubs off on a fella. Next thing you know, I'll be wearin' one'a them tin stars."
"What boy?" Mort questioned quickly, as the handkerchief on his arm was retied. The Judge's description fit snugly onto Jess.
"Oh, that," Cade waved his hand in the air, "what's his name again? He's just 'Son' to me. You know, that fella that runs around at the relay station near Laramie, but pretends to be someone he ain't to catch crooks like me."
"Jess Harper?"
"Sure," Cade nodded, a smile creeping up his scraggly cheeks. "That's him."
"You saw Jess?" Mort continued to question, wishing the Judge would give him a more complete reply.
"Of course I done seen him," Cade waved his arm toward the east, although the wild, frothing river where he'd pulled Jess out of was to their north. "I saved his life."
"Then Jess is alive," a smile spread across Mort's face as he turned to look toward Cade's point, the next string of singular questions springing from his mouth in rapid fashion. "Where? How? When?"
"Someplace thattaway, t'weren't easy, last night, but not anymore," Cade dropped his head, that mysterious anger still at work in his middle, making a deep frown settle across his mouth. "Then some Indian-like-delinquent carried him off. Why do you think I'm helpin' you anyway? Gotta get Jess outta this mess."
"Thanks, Judge," Mort's smile grew, the grin shared with Mose as the older man's eyes were finally lit up. "We'll help Jess all right, but not until Mose and I can get patched up some."
"Where're you boys headed?" Cade asked, raising eyebrows on both Mose and Mort's faces, since both "boys" weren't anywhere near being youthful ages.
"The Sherman ranch," Mort answered, while Mose added his own reply with a nod of his head.
"Well," Cade rubbed his palm over his scruffy cheek, "I reckon I might as well finish the good deed I started out on. I just might make the title of a law abiding citizen yet. Come on, boys, let's get you to Sherman's."
…
"Jess!" Andy exclaimed when the shack's door was shoved open and Jess' body was tossed onto the ground. A second cry was silenced as Andy looked up into the dark, dangerous eyes of one of the half-breeds, the bear-like growl coming from his throat making Andy's mouth clamp shut. Even when the door was reclosed and the sound of the lock clicked loudly in his ears, Andy didn't dare call out in a loud tone, his mouth barely forming the name before emitting a whispered, "Jess?"
The groan came first, rippling through Jess' chest as he then made an attempt to rise. His hands supported his weight as Jess came off of the ground only far enough to shake his head, the pain shooting down his neck and into his shoulders crashing him back into the soil. Never to be easily defeated, Jess tried again, rolling over to his back he placed a palm against his forehead and then slowly inched upward, the faces of Slim, Jonesy and Andy dimming in and out between clarity and something resembling a watery blur. Taking a deep breath, Jess closed his eyes and then reopened them, keeping himself seated as he wasn't ready to test the use of his legs yet.
"You in there, Pard?" Slim asked, receiving another slight shake of Jess' head in response.
"He looks like someone clubbed him a good one," Jonesy frowned, watching as Jess lowered his hand to his thigh as the room had finally stopped swirling. "Coming around more, are you?"
"I reckon," Jess heaved a loud sigh through his partially open lips as he pulled himself to his knees. He stayed this way for a full minute before putting his trust in his legs and when he finally rose, they nearly betrayed him. Jess swayed violently, and if he hadn't been within an arm's reach of the iron rod that had been his support, he would have gone back down.
"Are you hurt bad, Jess?" Andy asked, his face pinched with pain as if he was enduring every ounce of what Jess was feeling.
"No, not that bad. It does hurt," Jess reached a hand to the back of his head. "Ow! Dad-gum. Well, it hurts more when I touch it, so I reckon I just won't."
"What happened to you, Jess?" Andy asked, his eyes searching over Jess' entire body for another injury other than on his head. There was only the one spot of blood, but everywhere else, from his head on down, looked ravaged.
"Don't really wanna retell it, Andy," Jess answered, trying to take his first step. "Let's just say I took a long drop down into a swollen river and 'cause I'm so sour tasting, it spit me back out. But something good did come outta it."
"What's that?" Slim asked, his eyes showing his concern that Jess wasn't going to be able to stay on his feet as he removed his hand from the rod.
"I met an old friend out there, which means I come bearing gifts," Jess' mouth broke into a smile as he wasn't only successful with taking one steady step, but two. As the others exchanged confused glances, Jess slid his hand into his pocket and pulled out the Judge's knife, and then after bouncing it once in his palm, he lifted his foot, removing the bottle of whiskey from its position in his boot.
"Now the knife I have reason to grin about," Jonesy started to laugh, "but I never thought I'd ever feel so giddy over a bottle of rye."
"Medicinal purposes," Slim winced, immediately knowing who would receive the first dose.
"I'll have you all free in a coupla seconds," Jess said, stepping first to Slim, he took the knife and sliced through the rawhide, and then released Jonesy, his stride taking him quickly to bend behind Andy.
"How come they didn't tie you up, Jess?" Andy asked when Jess broke the binds around his wrists.
"Probably didn't think it necessary," Jess helped Andy to his feet and then gave the boy a tight squeeze around his shoulders. "I was going in and out as I was approaching the shack and before I was tossed in, I heard Cross say they were gonna move us somewhere before noon."
"I hope it's someplace without a rod for a cushion," Jonesy pressed his hands into his back. "I think my sacroiliac is thoroughly disgusted. But don't mind me, Slim, how're you fairing?"
"Not too good, Jonesy," Slim's mouth opened to take in a short gasp as he tried to rise to his feet.
"No, stay seated, Pard," Jess reached out and put both hands on Slim's shoulders, easing him back to the ground. "We gotta get to that bullet. Jonesy?"
"You're gonna have to do it, Jess," Jonesy held out his hands, his fingers and palms visibly shaking. "They're no good after being tied up all this time."
"All right," Jess nodded, keeping the knife secured in his palm, but handing Jonesy the bottle. "You take care of the medicine."
"Slim?" Andy whispered tentatively, as the reason that Slim was wearing a bullet crashed down on top of his head again.
"It's going to be all right, Andy," Slim promised as he began to unbutton his shirt. When he came to the last, he pulled the shirttails out of his beltline, groaning as Jess took the fabric from his hands and gingerly removed the shirt from Slim's body. "The undershirt is going to be interesting, though."
"Might just wanna cut it off," Jonesy suggested, pointing to the top of the pink shirt that hugged Slim's frame. "You can slice it straight down and then use it for bandaging afterward."
"Hold still, Slim," Jess said, taking the knife's tip to the "V" at the top of Slim's undershirt. "Don't wanna give you another scar to keep."
"Yeah," Slim winced as Jess cut through the fabric, the tugging against his wound sending a sharp pain throughout his chest, down his arm and a deep throb into his back, "because you and I don't have enough already."
"That's right," Jess gave Slim a quick smile. "And I thought we were made of steel."
"We are," Slim returned Jess' smile, his eyes then flicking up to Andy to share the same expression with his little brother.
"All right, Jonesy, douse the knife," Jess handed the sharp blade upward, keeping his hand opened for its return, "I wish I could heat it up first, but the whiskey's all we got."
"It'll be fine, Jess," Slim nodded, his jaw clenching tight as he prepared for what was to come. "Just get it done."
Nothing could properly prepare a man for inserting a knife into another man's flesh. Maybe a physician had no qualms, but a doctor was trained, Jess was not. He was experienced, as Jess had done such a duty before, but not enough times to not pause first, to lick his bottom lip, to take a shaky breath, and to drop his eyelids slowly. As Jess raised his lashes, his blue eyes collided with Slim's, the trust shining from one to the other. Jess placed one hand on the back of Slim's shoulder, and with the other, he stuck the knife inside.
Slim's head went backward, resting against the rod as the blade touched his flesh. His whole body tensed, the muscles on his arms bulging as if he were straining to lift a heavy object. Taking a deep breath, Slim's chest rose with the air, his already trim stomach flattening as his entire torso hardened as the knife sliced the damaged skin. The wound and surrounding tissue felt like fire, the red of the skin and the stain of the blood attesting to this fact, but the rest of Slim's exposed flesh was white, icy and dotted with goosebumps. The cold, shock and the pain were wreaking their havoc. And then Jess had to probe deeper, and soon it wasn't only Slim's bare skin that reacted. The shiver began at his back, quickly coursing over his entire body as perspiration dotted his face, sending rivulets down his cheeks as adrenaline flooded his body.
"Hang on, Slim," Jess said, his jaw set just as tightly as Slim's as he felt the blade begin to move the bullet. "I almost…" the sound of Slim's agony as it poured through his lips, not in a loud cry that would have rose to meet the caliber of his pain, but in a soft, tortured wheeze, sent a hard throb right into Jess' core. It intensified, and Jess knew it wouldn't stop until the bullet was out, and it was coming. Closer, closer. Now. "Got it."
The air rushed out of Slim's mouth as the bullet exited, his conscious level taking a dive as dark spots danced before his eyes, but he wouldn't allow himself to be pulled all of the way under. He closed his eyes, slowly taking deep breaths, feeling the blood flow freely down his front. Slim's lashes remained lowered as a cloth blotted the wound, but then they were flung wide open as a cold, yet fiery liquid poured over his shoulder.
"Sorry, Slim. Medicinal purposes are on the outside," Jonesy brought the bottle up to Slim's lips, "now for the inside. Take a good swallow now, good boy, one more. There you go. Your turn, Jess."
"Huh?" Jess asked, staring at Jonesy as he stood in front of him with the bottle in his hands. He certainly would take a drink, but somehow he didn't think that was what Jonesy was offering.
"Turn around," Jonesy motioned with his finger.
"Oh, no," Jess shook his head, "you ain't gonna pour that stuff over my head, it'll be worse than liniment. Jonesy!" But Jess could protest no further, for Andy placed his hands on Jess' arms and turned Jess' body so that his back faced Jonesy, and the older man was quick to do the dousing. "Dad-gum, that stings!"
"See, that wasn't so bad," Jonesy parted Jess' hair to better view the gash. "Could use a bit more, right…"
"Nothing doing," Jess took an abrupt step away from Jonesy.
"Here," Jonesy handed Jess the bottle with a twinkle in his eye. "Take your swig. But don't overdo it."
"That's better," Jess poured a lengthy dose down his throat and then capped the bottle tight, replacing it back inside of his boot.
"I'll get Slim's undershirt ripped up for bandaging," Jonesy held up Slim's pink shirt, and beginning with the line where Jess had cut, tore it into several pieces and then handed the makeshift bandages to Jess.
"You said you met up with a friend," Slim said, pausing for a sigh, "who?"
"Judge Barnaby Cade," Jess answered, his head turning toward the wall, wondering what had become of the old codger. "I dunno what happened to him, the half-breed coulda given him the same treatment as me, but you never know, maybe him being out there will continue to be in our favor. You ready for this, Slim?"
"Yeah," Slim said, his jaw tightening once more as Jess took the pink bandages from Jonesy's hand.
"How's it feel, Slim?" Jess asked, wrapping the strips of Slim's undershirt under his armpit and over his shoulder, the pulsating wound right in its center. "Too tight?"
"No," Slim grimaced, raising his right arm as he flexed his fist. "It already feels better. Thanks Jess. If you ever get tired of being a cowboy, you can always try doctoring."
"No chance, Slim," Jess laughed lightly as he helped get Slim back inside of his thoroughly stained, cream shirt.
"You know," Jonesy said, tapping his fingers on his jaw, "I've been thinking some about that Cross fellow. Now, he's a sidewinder all right, and for the most part, I can't quite figure him out, but one thing we do know, he's not gonna stop until he gets what he wants. The ranch. Yet, how's he gonna get it?"
"Probably like he's already been trying," Slim winced, moving his fingers toward the edge of his wound, "but whatever's next will be worse."
"True," Jonesy slowly nodded, "but that's not gonna get the ranch in his hands. No matter what he does to us, he can't exactly set up shop at the ranch and announce that Slim Sherman gave it to him for a birthday present. No, he's gotta have something more solid than that. Oh, and another thing, he can't just waltz into the bank with a handwritten note from you either, Slim, that'd raise too many eyebrows. No, if he's gonna get what he wants, he's gonna have to take one of us outta here."
"You're probably right, Jonesy," Slim answered slowly, looking across to Jess, standing still, with the exception of his fists opening and closing. "But which one?"
"Not you, that's for sure, what with that wound like a beacon on your front," Jonesy shook his head and then used his thumb to point at Jess. "And not Jess, either, he'd kick up too much of a fuss. The deed to the ranch might have three names on it, but the only one he really needs is Andy. Remember how he told us that he wasn't gonna kill someone he could still use?"
"Well, if that's true," Jess said, his words, even though spoken softly, still held a fiery tone, "then how come they haven't killed us yet? That half-breed was shooting to kill before I dropped off the cliff. He coulda killed me again when he found me later at the bottom, but all he did was bash my skull in some and bring me back here."
"Leverage," Jonesy replied, crossing his arms over his chest, "my guess is that when you ran off, the orders were for you to be killed so you couldn't complete your escape. But when you were found alive, you were kept that way for a purpose. If Andy's gonna be used to change the deed, then Cross needs as many victims here to threaten as he can, or at leastwise have Slim be pushed to such a limit that he tells Andy to go with Cross to get it done. He's not stupid, Cross knows that our weakness is each other's welfare."
"What do you think, Jess?" Slim asked, watching Jess' features as he processed everything Jonesy had just said.
"He could be right," Jess answered with a slight shake of his head, "but if that's what Cross has planned, what's he gonna do with Andy when the deed's been changed? Kill him or keep him?"
"Don't know, but I…" Slim began but paused when Andy's eyes widened and a small gasp came from his mouth. "What's the matter Andy?"
"Something Cross said to me when he was teaching me to shoot," Andy couldn't hide his sudden trembling.
"What's that?" Jonesy asked, putting an arm around Andy's shoulder, but the quivering didn't pause with the added security.
"He asked me if I thought he'd make a good big brother," Andy put a finger in his middle. "My big brother."
"So that's his angle," Slim's mouth set into a deep frown as his mind processed his enemy's plan. "He's going to push us until we can't be pushed anymore, and then use Andy to put the ranch in his name as his new big brother. That's probably the real reason he had you shooting at me, to not just threaten, but to instill real guilt and fear, followed by a more significant threat and command to come. I could be wrong, but I have a gut feeling this is right. And since Jess heard Cross say he was planning on moving us, that could be happening soon. All right, Andy, until we have reason to believe otherwise, for him to not take you away from us, you're going to pretend to be sick."
"Sick?" Andy looked questioningly at his brother. "What kind of sick?"
"Coughing, sneezing, chills, whatever else you can throw in, as long as it's believable."
"Like that time you thought you were supposed to go to that little Cynthia Madison's house for a date," Jonesy said, patting Andy on the shoulder, "but it was only Slim that was invited, on account of how he helped her papa when his wagon got stuck in the mud last spring."
"Aw, Jonesy," Andy kicked at an imaginary stone on the ground, his cheeks filling with embarrassment's classic shade, "what'd you bring that up for?"
"So you can remember how well you were holed up in bed coughing and moaning," Jonesy chuckled, giving Andy a gentle rub across his hair, "you were mighty convincing, especially since we didn't think there was a reason for you to be trying to pull the wool over our eyes."
"Yeah," Andy nodded, adding a frown to his face, "but you figured it out when I didn't have a fever. What if Cross checks my forehead and finds out I'm faking."
"Hopefully Cross has never had need to tend to a sick boy before and he won't check," Slim said, his voice growing with assurance. "Remember you also couldn't say no to that slice of cake I brought home from the Madison's. Big brothers have certain keenness, you know, and Cross isn't your big brother. The biggest thing we can do right now is make you as unappealing to take out of here as possible."
"Then I better start practicing," Andy cleared his throat twice before turning it into a cough. "How's that? Wait," the raspy sound came to an abrupt halt as he turned his head toward the door, his face turning pale as renewed fear clutched his chest. "Someone's coming. Cross?"
"If we do this right, Andy, maybe you won't have to play sick at all. Hurry, sit back at your rods," Jess said in his lowest tone, quietly stepping toward the doorway to hear the approaching steps. It sounded only like one. This could be perfect. "We gotta make it look as if nothing's changed."
Jess dropped to the ground, mimicking his position from where he had been tossed, holding the breath in his lungs as the doorknob was turned. The first step was taken into the room and Jess slowly counted the footfalls until he knew the man was right beside him. The next step was so close that Jess felt the soil push against his cheek. That gentle touch made the angry flame inside of Jess grow from a candle light to a raging inferno. This was what he had been waiting for. He reached out for a suited leg, but it was one clad in jeans instead. Rex. It didn't matter, Jess was ready to pound his fists into any of them. With one solid jerk, Rex was on the ground, the fight exploding from both men the instant that he hit.
There was enough of an element of surprise on Rex' face to show that he hadn't expected to be taken down, but recovering quickly, his eyes narrowed into slits as he regained his feet, a fist already balled and in an aim for Jess' jaw. Jess avoided the strike, bringing his hand swiftly upward he kept the punch held in midair, his right swinging around to meet up with Rex' lip, slitting the lower portion open as Rex spun from the hit. Jess reached both hands out to grab Rex by the collar, and once firmly grasped, he started pushing the man's body toward the wall, but Rex clamped his palms together, and in an upward thrust, cracked them into Jess' jaw.
Jess was momentarily powerless as he tumbled backward, giving Rex the perfect opportunity. He leapt onto Jess, both bodies crashing to the ground, rolling to a stop as Jess' ribs met with the empty iron rod. The air rushed out of Jess' clenched teeth with a grunt, coming then with a wheeze as the fabric around his neck was pulled tight as Rex hauled him to his feet. Jess raised his arm, the sound of his fist hitting Rex' left cheek a loud smack, but its only echo was a returned jab that just missed Jess' right eye, creating a line of blood to seep from his brow.
Taking a necessary step backward, Jess slammed his fist into Rex' middle, the reaction to the blow bending Rex over, and then Jess gripped the back of his collar to more equal their heights, the punch from Jess' fist smashing Rex' back against the wall. Standing in the middle of the small room taking in deep breaths, Jess waited for Rex to recommence or declare his defeat. A smile traced up Jess' bruised face when it appeared that the white flag would be raised, but Rex was only letting a piece of possum show.
With a wild leap and a guttural noise to go with it, Jess was suddenly thrown backward, his back bouncing against the wall with such force that the entire building shook. An arm went around his neck and Jess braced his feet, but the soil was loose enough that his boots couldn't take a firm hold, making his position even weaker. The grip around his neck tightened, the needed air cut into short, rough gasps through Jess' mouth until there was nothing left to inhale. With one hand desperately trying to pull the arm away from his throat, Jess bent his other arm, his elbow at a precise aim for Rex' abdomen. With every ounce of strength put into motion, Jess jabbed him once, twice, and then the third time bringing the correct painful response that released the pressure around his neck. Jess slid his hand across Rex' arm and then with a mighty heave, tossed Rex off of his back, the man landing with a grunt on the dirt floor.
Jess had little time to brace for another blow, as Rex was quickly on his feet, a fist ready to be put in Jess' face, but Jess brought his own up first, striking Rex in the jaw. The second landed on the side of his head, putting Rex into a spiral where he'd meet a painful stop as he hit the iron rod, the sickening sound of a bone breaking coming a mere second ahead of Rex' agonized shout. It was over. Rex placed a hand over his broken arm, and with his back against the rod, he slid down until his backside hit the dirt.
"Get his gun, Jess," Slim said as he stood up, his feet taking him to Jess' side as Jess pulled the gun out of Rex' holster.
"Now things really are gonna change," Jess said, holding the pistol in his palm, the feeling of its fully loaded weight was as rewarding as if he clutched a winning hand in a poker game. "We gotta gun."
"Correction," Cross' voice suddenly appeared, making all three heads snap toward the wall. They'd forgotten about the escape hole, and Cross had just crawled through it, his weapon at an even point to Jess' heart. "You had a gun."
:.:.:
A huge thanks goes to Mustang Sallie, pointing an idea out to me that I honestly hadn't thought about before. The deed to the Sherman ranch. Even though I kept the deed with only the most important names, I knew this was an integral part to write in. When I read her thoughts in the review, my mind started running ahead, trying to figure out how to incorporate it into what I'd already written in previous chapters and to fit it in with the one I was currently writing. I think I got some of the pieces tied together. Thank you.
To Kappa Girl – easy wish? For Slim's shirtless scene, that came about fairly easily as he had to have the bullet removed, but it's cold, borderline winter and spring with snow and ice outside. Can I really get Jess to take his shirt off for you (and every other interested reader)? We'll see…
The fight between Jess and Rex was requested a few chapters ago in a PM by Nakoosay. At the time, it was too early for a big brawl, but as I was getting ideas for chapter five, the fight developed. So thank you, Nakoosay, for wanting the big fight, I hope I delivered it "big" enough for you!
And that takes me to WillowDryad, requesting a Jan Merlin, slimy-type character, the request being seconded by Kappa Girl. Hmm, since Jess fought with Rex, leaving the man with a broken arm, that makes Rex kind of useless. Don't you think that leaves room for a new character in chapter six?