Chapter Six

Jess stood next to the sheriff's desk as Mort shuffled through the top drawer to reveal a deputy's badge. Jess didn't know how many times he'd already worn the familiar star, but every time it was pinned in place he had a strange feeling come over him. It wasn't power, but a satisfaction that stemmed from his middle that proved even a rough hand like he was could be reformed enough to work for the law. Jess knew several men from his past that would have laughed until they were blue in the face if they could see him now. But he really wasn't there to make any adversary take notice, but to somehow put the one that was inside of him to rest.

"There you are, Jess," Mort said after he positioned the star over Jess' shirt pocket. "Coffee's fresh and hot on the stove if you'd like some."

"Thanks Mort," Jess walked to the stove and filled a cup with the strong coffee and as he put the steaming liquid to his lips, the door to the sheriff's office was opened and Mort's nephew, Johnny Hartley entered.

"Hi, Uncle Mort, Jess," Johnny nodded to each man as he closed the door behind him. "I was just waiting for Carol to finish some shopping before I take her home and wanted to stop in and see if you needed anything."

"Not that I can think of," Mort smiled as he shook his head. "Jess is going to be wearing a badge for me for a few days in case I get called over to Cheyenne, but right now, from the looks of the town, it seems pretty law abiding at the moment."

"If things change, you know, I could always lend a hand," Johnny offered, looking first to his uncle and then to Jess.

"I appreciate that, Johnny," Mort smiled, putting his hand on his nephew's shoulder. "But Jess and I can handle the town all right by ourselves, but if anything big comes up, we'll let you know."

"All right," Johnny looked out the window to see his wife exiting the mercantile. "There's Carol, I guess I'll be going then. See you both tonight."

"See you then, Johnny," Mort gave a wave to his nephew.

"He still wanna wear a star, Mort?" Jess asked after Johnny exited the office.

"Not like he used to," Mort crossed his arms over his chest. "He still comes around and pokes his nose in some of the wanted posters, but after getting shot a few months ago, he doesn't have the same desires, but I suppose that's to be expected. From what Carol's been talking about recently, her sister and brother-in-law have a dry goods store up in Montana and they want Johnny to partner up with them and I think they're going to try it. It's about time that nephew of mine gets out on his own. Oh, I haven't minded letting them stay with me since they married, you know it would've been rather awkward them staying with her folks. Anyway, since I'm busy with my job so much it's like they have the place to themselves mostly except at night, but it'll be good for them to get a place that's truly their own."

"You'll miss them though if they go," Jess said with a smile curling the corner of his mouth and then he reached out a finger and poked Mort in the stomach. "You'll especially miss Carol's good cooking."

"You won't catch me lying," Mort laughed and slapped Jess' hand away from his midsection. "Of course you won't be complaining when we head over to the house for supper tonight. I heard something about spareribs when I was heading out the door this morning."

"It's always a pleasure to eat a good meal prepared by a pretty woman," Jess smiled and then they both walked outside, each man always ready for their job to suddenly become busy, but for the time being, it stayed quiet.

As the day started to draw to a close, Mort and Jess were inside of the office waiting for the clock to reach a certain mark before heading over to Mort's house. Just before that time came, Mort snapped his fingers, remembering a task he needed to do before going home for supper.

"I'm going to step over to the Laramie Gazette. I just remembered I promised Mrs. Stromboski that I'd let Waldo know that he spelled her name wrong in this morning's addition," Mort said as he put on his jacket. "She's hosting a quilting bee next Saturday, you know. I'll only be a few minutes."

"Sure thing, Mort," Jess nodded and then when the lawman exited his office, Jess sat down in Mort's chair, his feet instantly going to the top of the desk in a relaxing position, but his spurs shuffled the papers on the desk, causing a stack on the corner to flutter to the floor.

Jess groaned slightly as he came to his feet and then started picking up the displaced papers. Most of them were wanted posters and as he picked them up, he instantly began to categorize the posters from the miscellaneous articles that had been disarrayed. He tapped the stack of wanted posters together to form a tidy pile and then placed his hands on the other items but when he touched them, a sheet of paper slid from the bottom of the pile and when he reached to pick it up, the word "fire" in several places jumped out at him.

He couldn't stop the fear driven curiosity that nudged into his head so he began to read through the notice that was sent from a U.S. Marshal in Nebraska. Every sentence was enough to make his blood feel cold at the news that an arsonist had destroyed several buildings in a small Nebraska town. Jess hadn't been schooled in many hard to understand words, but arsonist was one he knew all too well. Some men just labeled them as "fire bugs" but Jess knew that they were far worse than any type of irritable pest. They were maniacal men like Frank Bannister who loved to torture for the pure pleasure of watching their victims suffer. Jess was a victim himself and he knew and understood how an arsonist did more than burn a building, but could char a soul.

The spareribs meal was as to be expected, sensational, but the complimentary word that Mort used to describe the feast wouldn't quite penetrate Jess' overfilled thoughts. He tasted the flavor and enjoyed everything he swallowed, but if there was anything else enjoyable, such as any family conversation, it went unnoticed. He couldn't get the Nebraska arsonist that was still running free out of his head and since the two fires in Laramie hadn't yet had a determining cause, Jess knew very well that they could have been started by the same man, if not, then someone with the same sick agenda.

Jess would have liked to have declined the invitation that went beyond mealtimes that offered him a room to sleep in one of the upstairs rooms in Mort's house, but considering his only excuse was to admit out loud that he'd been suffering from nightmares, he kept his reply as a singular, "thanks," and then went to bed. He wasn't always up at the crack of dawn at the ranch, but as soon as the first dim light of morning broke over the horizon, Jess was up and ready to go. This same routine, just with different foods served in the middle, were repeated without much change until a few days later.

It had grown to be a hot afternoon and most of the men in Laramie were seated somewhere in a saloon, replacing the heat from the outdoors with a different form of heat in the liquids that they drank. Jess and Mort were not among these men as they continued to fill their afternoon with making sure the town stayed peaceable. They now were just exiting the bank, as a teller had called them in because someone had left a piece of paper on the counter. Fearful it was a holdup notice, the bank teller didn't hesitate to wave a red warning flag but it was his face that turned crimson when Mort unfolded the sheet of paper to see it was only a misplaced shopping list.

"I didn't want to say the item on top of the list was material for diapers," Mort chuckled, "his face was already so red with embarrassment, I was afraid if I mentioned what was most needed would make him melt into the floor."

Jess stood next to Mort, not really listening to the sheriff's words as his senses were starting to become alerted. He didn't want to jump to conclusions when he knew it could have been just the smell from a chimney, but he had the warning to Mort starting on his tongue when he was silenced by one who really knew there was reason for alarm.

"Help! My shed is on fire!" The cry came from the feed store owner and it brought a swarm of men pouring from the saloons running in his direction along with Jess and Mort.

The fire was out almost as soon as it was started since nearly every man in town had been congregated in one location. Every hand that helped stop the flames from getting out of control now patted one another on the back, except for Jess, who stood slightly separated from the bulk of men with his head lowered, eyes fixed to the standing water outside of the small building that showed the reflection of the black wall of the storage shed.

Mort finished talking with the building's owner and then with a word of thanks to all of the men that helped win the battle, he stepped towards Jess, seeing the tension already mounting in his deputized friend. "I had just walked through there a few minutes before it lit up, Jess," Mort pointed towards the path that led to the storage shed as right before the bank teller had made his frantic shout, Mort had been searching the nearby alleyways for a little boy's lost dog. "If someone started that fire, I sure don't know how I missed seeing them."

"Then maybe there ain't no arsonist," Jess said the words slowly, getting Mort's clear attention as the lawman came to the realization that Jess already knew the ongoing threat that Laramie faced from the recent fires.

"I'm afraid I still can't answer that, Jess," Mort shook his head, wishing he'd thrown away the arson laced words the U.S. Marshal had sent. He was grateful that Jess didn't look like he was about to chew into him for perhaps withholding vital evidence before he pinned on a badge, but now that it was out in the open, with this newest fire he couldn't mince his words. "It started up fast is all that I know. It's possible that someone was smoking nearby or some kids were fooling around, but unless someone confesses, I still have to label this fire as suspicious."

"Just like the others were," Jess said grimly, "and if it's true, then there's gonna be more fires coming."