Chapter Six

The gun dropped from Jess' hand, the dirt floor not able to produce a loud thud at its landing, but the significance of its sudden loss added an extra thump to his heart. They had been so close to freedom, but now it was as if they had never taken that vital step toward it at all. Except the dashed hope was in place. The heavy weight not only made each of their shoulders slump, but it felt like something had literally been cut from their flesh. In Jess, it had been cut from his hand.

Jess tried to keep the sigh of defeat locked in his chest, the ability to do so intensifying as the feeling switched to smoldering anger as Cross suspiciously eyed him. Jess watched as Cross turned his head to the empty iron rods, looking over each one of them, and then his sinister stare fell upon the three that were no longer attached to them, before once again settling upon him. As Cross inched closer to his position, Jess straightened his back and clenched his jaw, unwilling to let the outlaw sense the defeat, only the anger.

"Since everyone's binds suddenly loosened, it appears Harper did more than just sideline Rex," Cross stood in front of Jess, the separation only as far apart as his gun allowed. "You must either have some nimble fingers, or you're hiding something from me. Which is it?"

"Why don't you search me and find out?" Jess answered coolly, his gaze locked with ice to Cross' eyes, the look daring him to lay a single finger anywhere on his body. Gun or no gun, Jess was ready to flatten him, even if Cross' weapon took a piece of him at the same time.

Cross inhaled a shaky breath, hoping that no one else in the room could equate his hesitation with fear. He gave a slight glance at Rex, no longer seated, but unable to use any of his skills to give him full cooperation and aid. Harper had done this. And he could easily do the same to him. Cross started to shake his head, a battle not worth what it could potentially cost him, and then he motioned with his gun for Harper to move toward the door. It was time for them to leave anyway. Cross needed another man, now that Rex was out. Bull and Snake were more than competent, but he still needed one more, and fortunately for Cross, he knew where he could find one. He always did like to kill two birds with one stone.

"Not up to the challenge?" Jess pressed, but the pistol was jabbed into his stomach, and Jess quickly inhaled to silence a reaction to the sharp blow.

"How's that?" Cross turned his head to the side, his mouth curving upward as his intimidation dissipated. "Get moving."

"What for?" Slim asked, his stance showing that he was fully prepared to defend Jess if Cross was attempting to take him out of the shack alone.

"It's time to move on," Cross explained, his gun now waving in Slim's direction. "There have been too many nosy men lurking around. I can't keep you here any longer."

"Where're you taking us?" Slim asked, although he didn't expect a reply, it only gave him an opportunity for Andy to look his way, and Slim gave him a gesture with his hand that only a brother would understand.

"Nowhere you need to know about," Cross answered, his mouth contorting into a frown as he turned to look at Andy, suddenly bent over with a coughing fit.

"Oh, Andy," Jonesy said, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to hand to the boy, "not that nasty cough again. And I don't have any of my special elixir along."

"What's the matter with you, kid?" Cross asked, taking a step toward Andy.

"His croup has flared up again," Jonesy answered before Andy could make the switch between coughing and talking. "Ever since he came down with it in January, it doesn't take much to bring it back on. You better not get too close. Sometimes his cough turns into, well, something else. I reckon you don't want your nice suit to get stained up, if you get my drift."

"Are you really sick, kid?" Cross asked, taking another awkward step closer to Andy, the skepticism showing by the narrowing of his eyes.

"I…" Andy coughed, placing his hand on his throat as if it pained him to speak, "I am sick, mister," Andy rattled his throat, and when Cross leaned forward, Andy gagged, making Cross jump backward. "Sorry. I can't keep it in sometimes."

"So I see," Cross wiped his hands on his pants before brushing each palm together three times, "just keep it to yourself then."

"I'll," Andy ran his sleeve over his nose and mouth, "I'll try."

"All right," Cross waved his gun toward Jess first, and then at Slim and Jonesy, "everyone outside."

Stepping into the daylight, which wasn't any less gray than its predecessor, all eyes turned toward the west as the half-breeds were bringing in a wagon. Their chariot to the next destination, wherever that would end up being. When the horses came to a stop in front of the shack, both men jumped out of the seat, one aiming for Jess, the other for Slim, needing to manhandle them more than their first meeting to get their wrists tied behind their backs once more. Jonesy and Andy were next, the oldest and youngest giving the half-breeds less hardship in securing their bindings. But it was with similar force that all were tossed into the wagon bed, the only difference was that they were neither blindfolded nor gagged.

"And I thought the iron rod's were uncomfortable," Jonesy grimaced as he adjusted his legs to be in a more seated position, with the side of the wagon his support.

"At least we can see where we're going," Slim whispered from his partially lying down position next to Andy. "We're headed north."

"It's getting colder," Andy shivered, trying to press his back closer to Slim's.

"That's because we're not only heading north, but we're climbing," Slim answered, uncertain if Andy's quivering was from the cold, his pretended sickness, fear, or everything wrapped together. "Wouldn't be surprised if we'll be getting into deeper snow before long."

"I wonder why they ain't concerned about leaving tracks," Jess said, reaching his fingers out to pat the knife that he'd slid into his rear pocket just after extracting the bullet from Slim's shoulder. It was easily accessible, but he would wait until the proper time before slicing through his bindings. With Cross on horseback alongside of the wagon, the two brutes up in the driver's seat and Rex, tenderly atop a horse, but still there nevertheless, the knife would stay hidden.

"Probably because the posse's gone," Slim shrugged his left shoulder, gesturing with his head toward the half-breeds, "and if they come back and follow our tracks, they'll get more of the same. They don't care how many innocent men they kill."

"You've got that part right, Sherman," Cross said with a smile, and then he nudged his horse forward in a leader's position, staying in front of the wagon until it rolled to a stop an hour later.

"Another shack?" Jonesy asked, trying to twist his head to get a better view. "I can see some boards and a roof."

"It looks more like a cabin," Jess said, his mouth still open to add to his statement, but was silenced as a door swung open, a man's frame residing in its shadows.

"C.C.," the man stepped into the open, his cowboy attire too neatly put together to believe that he did any work with cattle. More than likely, his work was with the gun on his hip. "Didn't expect to see you so soon."

"I need an extra hand," Cross shook hands with the stranger, showing the four in the back of the wagon that they were acquaintances, and anyone that would acquaint themselves with Carlyle Cross, couldn't be any better than he was. "Can I count on yours?"

"If the price is right," the man answered, his mouth set in a toothy line as he craned his head to the side to get a full view of Cross' cargo. "Big price, looks like."

"It will be," Cross replied curtly, "well?"

"Sure, sure," the man pulled his hand from Cross' clasp and gave a gesture for his boss to calm down. "You know I never turn down a fair deal."

"Good," Cross nodded, and then turning toward the wagon, he waved a hand in the newcomer's direction. "Gentlemen, this is Marlon Janzen, a friend in the business, shall I say."

"That's just plain Janz," he said, and then as Janz turned his eyes to the captives, he gave a shrug, a smile never leaving his face, "when you've got a mouthful for a handle, why bother using it all when you don't have to?"

"Bull, Snake," Cross turned to the half-breeds with a quick point, "take them inside and untie their wrists. We'll get them fed and warmed up before taking them on up to the cave. Maybe it'll get the kid feeling better. Oh, and," Cross paused with his hand slightly in the air, his eyes falling onto Jonesy. "You'll do the cooking."

"Just like at home," Jonesy shrugged as Bull shoved him toward the cabin, "only I'll use less pepper. I reckon you all are spicy enough."

"Get inside," Cross said through gritted teeth as Jonesy stepped through the front door.

All Jonesy could fix was stew, but unlike his earlier proclamation, it wasn't just like home. The potatoes had more eyes than a spider, the carrots and peas looked as if they had been dried and put away a year or two before, the meat was as tough as Jess' hide, and the salt was lumped in a ball at the bottom of the shaker. But since nothing had passed through their lips since their abduction, with the exception of a couple of swallows of the Judge's whiskey, it tasted like a feast.

"I hope that kid doesn't have something catchy," Janz sneered as Andy blew his nose into a handkerchief. "If I would've known you were bringing a sickly boy here, I might not have been so obliging."

"He'll get better after having a warm meal," Cross said, the confidence in his voice attesting that he didn't know what he was talking about. "And I don't want to hear anymore complaining from you."

"This is my place, isn't it?" Janz cast a sideways glance to Cross, the hardened glare that he received enough to silence any complaint from going forward one more inch. "All right, whatever you say. So, C.C., it looks like you've got quite the group here. Especially this one." Janz leaned across the table to put his face close to Jess. "You're Jess Harper. Yeah, I've heard about you. Fast gun, quick temper, a no good saddle tramp. You don't look so intimidating now."

"If I get you outside I would," Jess said, the rattling of gravel in his chest creating a hushed silence to fall over the room.

"Easy now, boy," Janz held up a hand. "I was only joshing."

"I wasn't," Jess snapped.

"You know, C.C.," Janz turned toward the suited man, who leaned against the front door with his mouth curved smugly. "You sure know how to pick them."

"I didn't pick him," Cross pointed toward Slim, "he picked Harper. I would've just let him drift."

"I guess that's why I'm the rancher," Slim narrowed his eyes at Cross, "and you're not."

"Woo-eee," Janz laughed, his finger pointing somewhere in the middle between Slim and Jess "Sherman's got some spunk too. It's too bad Sherman didn't use some of it when these two first met and shot Harper instead of hiring him on. Would've been a great service to the public."

"It could still happen," Cross looked downward at the gun that poked out of his jacket, although he knew that Jess and Slim's gazes were locked onto his face. He could feel the chilling frost in the air. "Do you think if Sherman held the same gun as his brother did, doing the same type of practice shoot, only with Harper as his target, would he readily miss, or blow his head clean off?"

"Why don't you play games with this hyena instead?" Jess jutted a thumb in Janz' direction. "Would be a lot more fun to watch."

"Who are you calling names?" Janz was instantly by Jess' side, the end of his gun sticking into Jess' neck.

"Hold up, there, Janz," Cross said, taking a step closer to the man sneering into Jess' face. "Let's take a moment to cool down. Outside."

"Whatever, C.C.," Janz returned his gun to his holster, his eyes not leaving Jess' face until Cross reached out a hand and tapped him on the shoulder, giving him a point toward the door.

"Finish your meal," Cross said before his hand touched the doorknob, "and don't get any ideas. Bull and Snake are on guard just outside this door. Come on, Janz."

"I dunno about you," Jonesy said when the door banged shut, "but I think Rex was more likeable than that jasper. He looks like the type that keeps a weasel for a pet. I keep thinking that one's gonna jump out of nowhere and land in my lap."

"He's slimy all right," Slim nodded with a gentle sigh, watching as the steam still seemed to seep out of Jess' ears, "but there could be something about him in our favor."

"What's that, Slim?" Jess asked, rubbing his knuckles as the desire to pound his fist into Marlon Janzen was nearly as strong as it was for Carlyle Cross.

"Rex seemed to be Cross' right hand man, would do anything he said," Slim said, receiving agreeing nods from both Jess and Jonesy's heads, "but Janz, I don't think he shares anywhere near the same amount of loyalty."

"How would that help us?" Andy asked, scraping the last corner of his bowl with his spoon.

"He won't follow his boss to the grave, so he just might not want to dig one for us either."

"I hope you're right, Slim," Jess said gruffly, his eyes not focused on the wall, but on the two men that were somewhere on its other side, "but I'll sure volunteer to dig a deep one for all of them."

Outside, Janz followed Cross to the wagon, paused together at the front wheel. Janz had already been briefed on his business while the stew was being stirred, but he hadn't been prepared enough for Jess Harper. His open-lipped scowl was still in place, even though the infuriating man was beyond a closed door behind him. "I wish you hadn't stopped me in there."

"I know, Harper's touchy," Cross said, his own animosity for Harper giving him a constant ache in his stomach. "But I need you to stay focused for what I need you for. Your gun, not your mouth."

"Look, C.C.," Janz held out his hands, but the important one inched closer toward his gun. He knew Cross didn't wear a weapon around his hip. True, he had one tucked under his coat, but there was no swiftness in a draw from that position. As long as Janz stayed armed, he would always have an advantage, and with a man like Cross, he needed one. "You're asking me to kill a man, but I won't do it for nothing."

"You'll get paid," Cross answered sharply.

"When?"

"When I get what's coming to me," Cross pointed a finger in his chest.

"That's not good enough," Janz shook his head, his light brown hair that needed a trim flipping back and forth over his forehead with the movement, "maybe I'll just walk away right now. Let Bull and Snake do your dirty work. They seem to hang on your every word, but I don't."

"You'll stay," Cross thrust the finger at Janz, "or I'll turn Bull and Snake on you. Because you're right, they will do whatever I say. Now, do I have your undivided attention?"

Janz kept his stare locked into the hardened face of Cross, and as there wasn't a flinch to be seen, or given, he could do nothing but give in. "Yeah," Janz gave a short nod. "Which one do you want me to kill?"

"Jonesy."

…

"I don't see how I got saddled with doin' the cookin', since I done already brought you here and went and fetched the doctor," Cade stepped out of the kitchen with a hefty pot in one hand, an apron tied not quite around his middle, but closer to his chest, and a decent amount of flour sprinkled on his grizzled cheeks. "And the stuff I get to mix with! All they got 'round here is beans, biscuit fixin's, 'n' taters. Where's the good stuff?"

"Like what, Judge?" Mort asked, looking up at the Judge from where he was seated in front of the fireplace, rubbing his bandaged arm.

"Whiskey," Cade grunted, the pot teetering to its side, the beans coming close to the rim before Cade corrected his near mess. "It's all a man really needs no how. Those boys that run this place, they don't feast on anything hearty at all. Beans 'n' biscuits 'n' taters, heh. I could show them a thing or two about suppin'."

"I'm sure you could," Mort nodded, holding back a smile, "but right now, those beans, biscuits and taters sound mighty appetizing to me."

"Which means I better get back to cookin' it then," Cade shrugged his shoulders as he stepped back toward the kitchen. "Don't complain iffen it tastes kinda paltry. Without whiskey, I ain't a clue how to season this stuff."

"I'm sure it'll be just fine," Mort said, but even if the flavor was close to paper and dirt, it wasn't the food that was concerning him, but so much more. He didn't like to be sidelined with an injury when someone was violently breaking the law. Mose was already showing signs of a quick recovery, meeting the stagecoaches with spring in his step, although that could have been the result of the healthy dose of gossip being swapped whether it was the eastbound or westbound rolling through. He was out there now, and Mort kept flicking his eyes toward the window, because when a lawman got a certain feeling of dread, there was nothing he could do to ignore it. "At least I hope so."

"Huh?" Cade poked his head around the side of the fireplace, "was that a request for a cuppa coffee?"

"No," Mort quickly shook his head, but then suddenly changed his mind. "Go ahead and fill me a cup, though." Mort waited as the cup was brought to his hand, and as the Judge stood above him, his brows lifted and a smug expression on his face, Mort knew he needed to do more than just warm his hands with it. "Thanks," Mort put the cup to his lips, the swallow sending his throat into choking hysterics.

"The strength skeer you?" Cade took the cup out of Mort's hands and took a large swallow. "Tastes fine to me. 'Course, my throat's used to firewater, so this ain't nothin'. Want some milk instead? Dang whippersnapper, raised only on the soft stuff. I'll have a nice, cold glass ready with dinner, okay?"

"Thanks," Mort put a hand to his throat as his mouth, all the way down to his stomach still felt the robust sizzle. "It's not so bad being soft, you know."

Cade harrumphed, "and you a lawman. No wonder you had to let that honest feller take me in. At least he knows how to hold the hot stuff. I sure as all danged get out hope he's all right."

"Me too," Mort sighed, his thoughts trailing upward to a rocky hillside and what might have been on its other side, "me too."

"Something smells good," Mose strode through the front door, "that coffee? Good, I'll take a cup."

"Uh, Mose, you might want to," Mort paused as Cade handed the steaming cup to Mose, placing a wince on his face as Mose took the first sip, but instead of a gagging cough, Mose brought forth a smile.

"Hits the spot," Mose wiped a sleeve over his mouth. "Thanks."

"Any news out there?" Mort asked, pushing aside another cringe, although maybe he should have allowed it, only this time for a different reason.

"That was the Laramie stage that just went through," Mose pointed over his shoulder toward the door. "Brought with it some news you ain't gonna wanna here."

"What's the word, Mose?"

"Those posse members that hightailed it outta there when the shootin' got too hot," Mose explained with several hand gestures. "Alby says that they done spread it all around town that anyone joinin' back up with you is likely to get as shot up as we did, or wind up like the two we had to bury. There ain't no one willin' to go back up there."

"I kind of expected results like that," Mort sighed, standing up, needing to pace. "But until now, I was hoping I was wrong."

"I'll go back with you, Mort," Mose said, barely touching the bandage at his neck. "I ain't hurt too bad, 'sides, like I said before, all of them are like my family."

"Well, I can't just let you two boys gallivant away without someone to look after you. The law-boy here would probably end up flat on his back like he was when I found him. I reckon that halo of mine it gettin' smoother by the minute. Oh well. Maybe there'll be a shiny reward at the end of all this to make it worthwhile."

"When will we head out, Mort?" Mose asked as the sheriff had paused his step, giving his arm an extra rub.

Doctor Hanson never said as much when he dug out the bullet, but Mort knew he shouldn't be riding, but he also knew he shouldn't be idling. He was a busted up lawman, with an aging stagecoach driver and a far from reformed outlaw as his deputies, but they had heart, and perhaps, that's all that was needed anyway. "Tomorrow."

…

"The old man?" Janz rolled his eyes, his arms rising to fold over his chest. "Why him? I'd rather face Harper. He's more my style."

"You heard your orders," Cross glared at Janz. "Jonesy. He's the most dispensable of them all. Besides, he's grating on my nerves."

"All right," Janz conceded with a short nod. "When do you want it done?"

"Not immediately," Cross answered as he began to walk away, "but soon. They'll be heading for the cave shortly. When they're settled there, that should be a good enough time."

"Where're you going?" Janz asked, quickly following after Cross, reaching out to pause his steps by putting a hand on Cross' arm, only to have it jerked away.

"Home," Cross smiled, raising an arm toward the southern horizon, "well, almost, anyway. I'm going to the Sherman ranch for a day or two. Oh, and just because I'm gone doesn't mean I'm not still in charge. You, Bull and Snake all have your orders. Break them and I'll break you. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," Janz frowned, keeping his feet stilled as Cross rounded the corner of the house to the barn, his eyes narrowing into slits when he fully disappeared, his voice now tarnished with sarcasm. "Yes, sir."

The wagon was in use again, the same duo in the seat, the same four with retied wrists in its rear, but now Rex was gone, Janz was in his place, but even more important, Cross was out of sight. After a mile of travel, the horses began to tromp in snow, the pace slowing, both from the thicker layer that was underneath, and the steady incline. When it came to an abrupt stop, and the only thing in sight was what seemed to be an impassible trail, they were forced to walk. It was a slow and steep climb, their destination becoming obvious when the dark mouth of a cave loomed above them.

When they became a part of the indent in the mountainside, Slim's eyes took in every detail with each step, concerned that they would be swallowed in the depths of the earth with only darkness as their company, but they were stopped close enough to the mouth to still be able to see. Forced to be seated, Slim's eyes trailed above them at the jagged rocks and then across the stone walls, his gaze momentarily resting on a lantern placed on a small ledge that protruded from the side of the cave. But then Janz appeared, gaining Slim's full attention, his expression showing every inch of his callous nature, but also in his hand that rested on the butt of his gun. He wanted something. Even worse, he wanted someone.

"Come on, Jonesy," Janz said, going directly to the older man, pulling Jonesy to his feet. "You and I are going for a little walk."

"What for?" Slim asked, the sudden alarm flaring in his chest. He had been expecting Andy's removal, not Jonesy's.

"To get some fresh air, what'd you think?" Janz rolled his eyes, tugging Jonesy toward the cave's opening.

The cold air hit Jonesy in the face, but it was the reality that stung the most. The sadistic smile was enough to warn him, even if Janz didn't immediately go for his gun, yet he could feel the deadly tension that resided in the small space between them. He was about to be killed. But how could a man like him be able to stop someone like Janz, who did such vile work for his living? Jonesy didn't have much, but he did have a singular weapon. It wasn't anything that could do physical damage, nothing that could threaten, but if used right, he could do something more. Strategy. He'd already pegged the type of character that Janz was, and now he had to put it into action to save his life.

"You know," Jonesy raised his head slightly to meet Janz' gaze, "you strike me as a shrewd businessman, much more than that Cross fellow."

"How do you figure?"

"Oh," Jonesy answered, keeping his eyes at an even squint, "there's a certain flair about you. I mean, look at the way Cross dresses. He ain't likely to ever get himself dirty. He might be able to plan as pretty as you please, but isn't that all he can do? You not only can think for yourself, but you can do the things that you want, too."

"So," Janz held out his hands away from his sides, "what's your point?"

"Just thinking," Jonesy replied with a shrug.

"Thinking about what?"

"That if you put your smarts to work," Jonesy nodded toward Janz, "then you might get more than your share of what's coming to you."

"How?" It was obvious by the eager and selfish glow radiating from Janz' eyes that he was interested.

"You know what Cross wants, don't you? Slim's ranch."

"Sure, I know that…"

"Why?"

"Not sure anyone other than Cross knows," Janz answered, slowly shaking his head.

"Must be a lot of money involved, don't you think? Maybe instead of just getting a cut of pay, you can hit the entire payload. If you kill me, like I figure you're planning on doing, then that's not gonna get you any closer to having your pockets more than just lined, but filled."

"Why should your life change that any?" Janz asked, his hand no longer hovering closely to his gun.

"Because," Jonesy gestured with his head toward the cave, "if Slim's gonna have to give up his ranch, don't you think he'd rather give it because someone spared a life, or someone took a life?"

"I don't know…"

"Look," Jonesy said, liking the shifting expressions on Janz' face, ready to take it all the way. "Slim's a shrewd business man, too. After all that Cross has done to us, Slim's not gonna just roll over and play dead for that man, even if you do kill me. Instead of getting a fight outta him, maybe you could try a different tactic. At least you could, if you were the boss."

"No, I can't do that," Janz shook his head, although the light in his eyes showed that he thought otherwise. "Cross said not to break his orders."

"Break them?" Jonesy said with a chuckle. "You can't break them if you make them."

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right. You know, Jonesy," Janz said, his teeth showing its widest grin. "I don't think I'm going to kill you after all. Besides, that Jess Harper is more up my alley anyway."

"You're not gonna kill him, are you?" Jonesy asked, suddenly gripped with fear that he'd talked his way out of saving his own skin, only to have the threat be placed upon Jess instead.

"Nah," Janz kept his smile in place, pushing Jonesy back toward the cave, "a good killing can happen any day. Right now, I think I'm going to get what's really coming to me. Money, and lots of it. Get back inside the cave."

"Sure will," Jonesy stepped cautiously through the snow. "It ain't fit for man or beast out here. Hmm," Jonesy's voice dropped to a gentle mumble, pausing at the mouth of the cave as one of the half-breeds had just come into focus, walking up the hill, "there's one of the beasts now."

"He and his brother are another part of the equation that could be crossed out," Janz said, surprising Jonesy that he even heard his muttering. "Get back where you were, I'm sneaking out to meet up with Cross at the ranch."

"Good for you," Jonesy breathed a sigh of relief as his feet returned him inside of the cave.

"Jonesy," Andy stared with wide-eyed shock as Jonesy entered unharmed, "you're back."

"What happened out there, Jonesy?" Slim asked, his eyes looking Jonesy up and down for any sign of injury.

"Oh," Jonesy held in his smile, although he let a swift wink be given to Slim's stunned face, "we took a little walk."

But another man's walk uphill had just come to an end. A half-breed, unaware of the exchange between Jonesy and Janz and a life that had been spared, had just entered the cave. His eyes, once adjusted to the darker light, fell upon an older man that wasn't supposed to be there anymore.

Jonesy. He was supposed to be dead. Something had gone wrong and without C.C. there to redirect, it was all in his hands. Bull wasn't going forward blindly, as one of the boss' last commands was ringing in his ears. "If anything goes wrong, get the kid out. That kid is all I really need anyway." He could handle that, and whatever else was necessary, and he already knew the latter was imminent, as the captives had already attempted an escape. He wouldn't allow that to happen again. Not on his watch. But he would need something big to do it with. Bull cracked his knuckles, one after the other, and then slipping his hand through a crevice in the rock wall, he picked up a different form of weaponry and stuck it in his rear pocket. He was ready. Bull walked in long, silent strides, his aim for the boy that began to cower the further his steps took him.

Slim's voice was raised, but Jess barely noticed the words, just that they came out enraged as the half-breed approached Andy's position. Jess inhaled sharply at the obvious intention of the half-breed, his heart racing as Andy trembled as the large man loomed over him. The pocketknife was now necessary, and Jess' fingers dropped into his pocket and pulled open the blade, instantly beginning the movements to slice through the bindings around his wrists. Jess kept his eyes narrowed, focused on Andy's shivering frame, the incentive to get loose boiling hotter with each second that passed. As Andy was starting to be drug away, the rawhide snapped loose, his insides now close to the magnitude of lava.

The moment Jess was on his feet, he was in a sprint, to catch or to kill, but mostly to save. Jess leapt into the air, crashing into the half-breed's back, both men and boy tumbling to the ground. A deep, guttural moan that rose to a near bellow as both men returned to their feet told Jess that he was facing Bull, but just as if he were standing opposite to a violent, horned animal, snorting fire through its nostrils, he wasn't going to turn and run. He would fight with everything that was in him, and Jess' quickening breaths displayed the battle he was willing to give. But Bull also had something to give.

As Jess prepared his stance and fists for fighting, a grin suddenly split across Bull's face, his hand reaching behind him and Jess expected a gun and the six bullets to go with it, but it was a weapon with a whole different caliber. Dynamite. Jess held a short breath as the match was pulled out of a vest pocket, and with a flick of two fingers, it was alight. Bull closed the smile, his mouth now in a hard line, he held the lit dynamite out toward Jess, and with his other hand, reached for Andy. But Jess was far from deterred. A keg of powder couldn't stop him now.

Jess jumped forward, his foot rising to kick, and with a perfect aim, his boot met Bull's forearm, the momentum of the upward swing spreading the man's hand open, and the dynamite dropped to the ground, rolling out of Bull's reach. In that instant, there would be no more fighting, only a chance to live or die. Bull took one last look at the dynamite, too close to igniting to touch, knowing that he only had one chance, and that was to run. As soon as his long strides started taking him away, Jess stepped toward the dynamite, his eyes rapidly searching for a safer place for it to blow. But there was none.

"Run, Andy, run!" Jess shouted, his hand reaching out for the sparkling stick of dynamite. "Hurry! Get back to Slim and hide your face. Go!"

Jess had only one second to throw. One. And it had just ticked.

The explosion shook with the intensity of a violent earthquake, topped with the ominous clap of thunder, rolling with a boom that would never stop that quickly created another rumble, this coming from the heart of the earth. Mud, water, snow and rocks were suddenly released from the highest peak, cascading downward with more power than a locomotive. Outside light quickly died away, the entrance to the cave being blocked with an innumerous depth of the mountainside until there was nothing but pitch darkness. Even as the light was gone, the sound continued in a loud, earsplitting roar, over and over again, until finally the rumbles gave way to complete silence.

"Is everyone all right?" Slim asked, his eyes darting back and forth, although he could see nothing. Andy was pressed into his side, the boy's trembling enough to tell him that he was unscathed, but he waited until Andy gave him a positive vocal reply. "Jonesy?"

"More or less," Jonesy answered with an unmistakable shudder.

"Jess?"

Slim waited, his breath held as he waited for his partner's reply. But the silence remained.

"Jess?"

:.:.:

I had a harder time than I thought nailing down Jan Merlin's slimiest type of character, and so I want to especially thank WillowDryad for responding to my request to give me an adjective based description of him. I hope as everyone reads "Janz", they see Jan. I also learned that Jan Merlin passed away in September 2019, and so, this chapter is dedicated to him, for giving us all of those wonderfully acted vile characters that he brought to Laramie.

An overwhelming amount of requests came in for Jess to be "shirtless or more…" and I don't intend on disappointing my readers, only, just not yet. Stay with me, bare-chested-Jess fans! But, if you need a sudden dose of skin, I'm going to point you to chapter seven of "Condemned", chapter four of "We're Loyal", and a few scenes with Jess in nothing more than a blanket during, "When I'm Alone." Apparently I enjoy writing him this way, just as much as you do reading it, so be prepared, it'll come.