Chapter Three

He had put it off for two days. Ruminating, most of the time, but Slim did spend a decent span stuck in a stew, but before he boiled too hard, he switched back to the simple mull of his mind. Except none of this was simple. Maybe Slim would have been better off in an actual stewpot anyway, as everything going in and out of his mind was as complex as what Jonesy put in his Mulligan.

But he couldn't procrastinate any further. He had to get the conversation started, even if it took on the roll of a snowball, growing so wide that it turned into an avalanche. Slim quickly looked up to the nearest peak, grateful that it was bare of all things white. Yet if this reached that kind of escalation, one of them could still end up being buried.

Changing his glance, Jess' frame became Slim's full focus. Since sunrise they had been extending the fence line along the east section of their property. Postholes dug and the uprights pounded in, all that was left was the wire. At the moment Jess was hanging onto the top strand, waiting for Slim to tighten the corner so there was no extra slack on Jess' end. The current time wasn't exactly ripe for serious talk, but Slim didn't want to put the necessary words on the back of the stove to simmer until dark. He had already let too many hours run by him as it was. Stopping at the corner post, Slim hammered in the needed staple and then let the tool bite into the post's head, his walk toward Jess, slow.

Something was wrong.

Jess' lashes had turned toward Slim at least a hundred times since they had ridden away from the ranch house, even more when they set up shop along their desired fence line. Throughout their labor he would sense Slim's own stare, brief and biting, but whenever Jess' blue landed on Slim's tall frame, he would get nothing in return.

Jess couldn't say the same now. Slim's direction, including his solid gaze, was for where Jess' boots were planted. While he had been able to feel tension's strong cords, all right, he couldn't begin to find the tip to unravel it. But whatever it was, they were about to have it out and Jess' body began to brace for what was to come.

But as it were, Slim no longer wanted to punch Jess in the jaw.

"Jess, we need to talk."

"Sure." He let go of the barbed wire, and as it was prone to coil at its release, it didn't jump backward, but snagged his sleeve. Strange, but Jess had a feeling if he had turned away from Slim instead of walking toward him, something else would have attached to his arm. Slim's hand. "What's going on?"

"It's about Andy."

Concern immediately knit Jess' brows together. "Something wrong with him?"

"Yeah. You are."

Now they rose to a puzzled arc. "Me?"

"When you first got here and Andy was permanently in your shadow, I thought it was just growing pains. You know, something that Andy would get through, but he hasn't. He hasn't lost that feel for who you are at all. And now after everything that went on at Jubilee, Jess, it's worse. All Andy wants to be like is you. He's toting your gun, he's pretending to smoke, next thing he's going to be dipping into the medicinal bottle."

"Is that why I couldn't find it the other night?"

Slim nodded. "I had Jonesy hide it."

"Well, I hope you have it in mind to tell me where, because there's times I need to…" For a moment Jess' eyes had the lilt of humor, but then the blue turned dark. Very dark. "Wait a minute, let's go back a coupla steps. Andy was toting my gunfighter's gun that I put away?"

"More than that, he was firing it too. I rode out to the place he thought no one would find. Dirt clods. And he hit a few of them square."

"Well I'll be dadgummed."

Slim resisted using his voice in agreement with him, although Slim would have used the extremely rare expletive instead. Right now he had something far more important to add. "Someone else was out there, too, Jess. And he had a rifle set on Andy's back."

He bristled, his back becoming like porcupine quills. "Who was behind it?"

"I don't know. And as much as I'd like to pulverize whoever it was, right now I'd settle for just grinding you underneath my boot heel."

"Me?" Jess' finger dove into his chest. "You think this is my fault?"

"Who else am I to blame but you?"

Jess couldn't help but match his tone to what Slim's was rising to. If they weren't careful, they would be having a shooting match out of their throats before this was over. "I didn't tell Andy to practice with my gun. Sure we've fooled around with some bottles and cans before, but I was always with him."

"And did you ever tell him not to go out on his own?"

Slim must have slapped him for how Jess' cheek stung, but that was impossible when Slim's arms never left his sides. "No."

"Did you ever tell him that a gun wasn't meant for fun?"

Jess' eyes couldn't hide the sudden wince that went with the pain. "No."

"Did you ever tell him that your life on that side of the iron wasn't great?"

Jess wished that Slim would stop slapping him, as he had run out of cheeks. Well, unless Slim started pounding on the ones attached to his behind. "No."

"So you see, Jess, if there's a finger to point at, it's naturally going toward you."

"I didn't do it on purpose, Slim. You know what Andy means to me."

"I know. But he's going to get into trouble if he doesn't realize his boots aren't the same size as yours."

Jess looked down, the very boots that Slim just mentioned his focus. "You want me to talk to him?"

"Actually, Jess. I don't."

His eyes jumped back up to find the blue above him. "Then what?"

"I want you to watch how you act around him."

"How so?"

"Don't get into any gunfights, or fistfights, for that matter. Cool the whiskey's flow and don't smoke around him."

Jess actually expected the list to be longer. But since Slim's words had changed from a stinging slap to a direct punch, when Slim reached that shorter end, Jess reached his fingers up to rub against his jaw, trying to quell the pain. It didn't work, for the actual source wasn't anything that struck his skin, but came from deep in his chest. Maybe it was a good thing that Slim stopped counting his destructive habits. Jess might not have been able to take another blow in either place.

He looked down, but where Jess' gaze should have been latched on the ground, his blues flickered toward the butt of his gun. Maybe this was as far as Andy ever looked, too. "I'm sorry, Slim. I never realized before how bad I must look to a kid that's growing up."

"That's the thing, Jess. You don't look bad. What he sees in you is something amazing, glamorous even, and he wants to emulate it. He wants to be you. I thought you knew that."

"Well, yeah, sure, I kinda had that figured out awhile back, but I've never encouraged him to follow behind me. Honest. I know I ain't no piece of apple pie."

"He's young, Jess, but Andy's reached an age where he's ready to explore the options of his tomorrow and make that his way for life. I'm afraid that if he keeps eyeing your kind of prize and then acting on it, there might not be any way to get him back on the straight and narrow."

Jess knew exactly how hard it was to get back on the kind of path that didn't lead to destruction. He had put his toe on the edge a time or two, but making it his constant span, not even close. He didn't want Andy to experience the struggle of going that route. Ever.

He hoped the sincerity shone in his eyes, for coming out of a man that had truly been-there-done-that and regretted it, the promise was real. "It won't happen again."

"But it will, Jess. Everything about you is high-spirited, heavy-handed, strong-worded and cigarette-scented."

"I'm trying to quit, Slim. It ain't easy to throw away tobacco just like that, you know. I've been on it since before the war."

"I know. And believe me, I appreciate the effort, but when are you going to realize that an effort isn't good enough? It's got to be all or nothing."

It was too bad he had already made the promise. Jess needed both a cigarette and a bottle in hand. "Slim, it almost sounds like you're giving me the boot."

"I'm not, Jess. But I am giving you a warning. Don't come between me and Andy."

He nodded. There was that old feeling in his core again, the one that reached up into his heart and jerked it out of his chest. Jess could never put the pieces back in their proper places when it had happened before. Every time he had to say goodbye, every time he had to ride away, or as it spelled out in the shorter version, every loss, broke Jess a little more. Leaving the Sherman ranch might not be his end where the final fate was concerned, but Jess could easily discern that there would be no recovery.

He felt it was dangerously close to being that now.

The soft notes were his pain, the blink of his eyes was the rain. "Are we okay, Slim?"

Slim allowed the smile, its genuine glow spreading out to his hand as he placed it on Jess' shoulder. "Yeah, Jess. We've been through a lot together in this last year. You're a good friend, my best friend, and I don't want that to change. But it could if your sideways characteristics bring trouble to Andy. He could have been killed the other day and then where would you and I have been?"

"Certainly not standing here with a friendly hand resting aside me."

"Let's keep it that way, Jess. For all of us."

"It will, Slim. I promise"

.:.

"You know what this is?"

Slim raised his eyes to Jess, the mirth dancing on his face as well as what dangled from Jess' fingers. And it wiggled directly in front of Slim's eyes. "Offhand I'd say it was a worm."

"You've got that right, and I got a whole pile of them outside."

He rolled out from underneath the dining table, giving the leg he had been tightening a jiggle. It was firm. "What for?"

"We're going fishing. You, me, Andy and Jonesy."

"How can we all go off together when there's an entire afternoon's work to be done?" Slim asked, taking up the hammer and nails that had been within an easy reach. Sure he could go put them away, but on a working ranch, the hours under its load had a way to stretch beyond infinity.

"There ain't. I've finished everything you woulda told me to do, and some of which you woulda done yourself. So there ain't any excuse to not go, so let's go."

Slim craned his head toward the window, the sunlight coming through the parted curtains a welcoming glint. "I don't know, Jess…"

"Jonesy's already got a picnic packed, Andy's getting all of our lines and hooks ready, as you can see I provided the worms, so you're gonna look like a mean, old brother if you don't say yes."

"How mean?"

Jess' lips grew into his left cheek. "Like a wicked witch in fairytales."

"How old?"

Now it spread far enough to make his eyes dance. "Sixty."

"Well, Jess, since I don't want to be known as a sixty-year-old witch, let's go fishing."

The lake or the creek was their only argument from that point. The walk to the creek the easiest route for a man prone to press his hands into his back, it was this destination that won. More shade, this being from Andy, the thought that less sunlight at the creek's edge would encourage the fish to bite.

Jess merely shrugged. "Woulda been kinda fun to jump into the lake if I got too hot, but I reckon the creek ain't gonna be so bad."

It wasn't, and Jess did get part of himself dipped. Jeans rolled up to his knees, he stood just beyond that depth, fishing line swung hard enough that it tangled around a branch above his head. It was a good thing that Andy's weight was light enough to shimmy up and release the wayward hook, otherwise Jess' fish count would sit at zero all afternoon.

His number was still at that empty circle an hour later when Jess' bare toes dug into the wet soil on the creek's edge. Slim was the only one that had made a tally mark, and the fish on the line beside him sat at two, but perhaps that was because he was content to keep his backside attached to the ground.

"I don't understand why the fish don't like me," Jess said, putting line and hook against a log.

Jonesy lifted a brow, and a corner of his mouth followed along. "Maybe if you'd stop splashing around in the water the fish'll bite."

"Dunno," Jess answered, hand squeezing into his flat stomach. "Jonesy, ain't you got any more sandwiches? I'm starved."

"I thought you already had four."

"I did."

The basket's lid flipped open, Jonesy nodded. There were seven missing, all right. Good thing he had made ten, or if Jess kept at it, maybe he should have packed twenty.

Jonesy waited until Jess was back at the creek's edge, a half-sandwich already stuffed between his teeth and then looked at Slim. "How old is Jess again?"

"Well if I'm sixty, then he must be a thumb-sucking toddler."

"Huh?"

"Forget it."

"All right," Jonesy said, putting the sandwiches away when Slim gave a shake of his head. "But what I won't forget is this day. Perfect, it is. You know this was all Jess' idea. Crazy kid, but thoughtful too. Kinda makes it hard to stay in a beef with him, you know?"

"That it does, Jonesy."

"So you fully over your stink?"

"I think so."

"Good. Because it wouldn't be right for a fellow that gains a new brother just like that to let him go just like that too." Jonesy gave his fingers a snap.

"I'm assuming you're talking about Jess and me."

"Who else is there to talk about? Andy's been your brother since he was being knit together in your mama. Course if the Almighty's been putting all of this together since creation day, maybe Jess' knitting months could be said the same."

Slim swirled his line through the water, and as the nibble he felt was no longer attached, he shifted his gaze to Jonesy. "Can't you ever say something plain?"

"Nope. You don't think it over hard enough if I just said this is that and that's that."

"True."

And Slim was thinking exactly that. It was just Jonesy's words that painted a slightly different portrait of what went on underneath Slim's eyelids, imagining growing up with two brothers instead of one. If Jess had been in the Sherman family since birth, and even though the raising up years would naturally be different for the Texan, if their lifelong personalities were the same regardless of how many times Matt Sherman would have whopped Jess for disobeying, would he and Jess even be close? It seemed almost unlikely.

We would've had some mighty big fights growing up.

He heard the splash and opened one eye, expecting Jess to have finally caught a fish. He hadn't. Andy pushed Jess in. The smile was easy to form. The blood ties might not have been there since birth, but Slim couldn't deny that he and Jess were close. Even among their scrapes, a day like today proved that there was an inseparable bond.

Surely the Almighty knew what he was doing when Jess showed up at their door. Perhaps Jonesy was right, and the design really was there when both men were conceived. He could live with that.

Except now I've got two little brothers to raise. And boy, does one of them need raising.

He spread his lips apart as he watched the very one in mind, stepping out of the water as slopping wet as the fish that Slim was pulling in.

Wiping the droplets from his face, Jess sensed Slim's approving nod and turned. Jess matched Slim's smile, teeth and all.

He had hoped going fishing would turn out like this. They needed an afternoon without being bogged down by the weight of work, and as it were, life itself. Especially Slim. Jess could put on his poker face when inward emotions took their toll and keep plowing forward even when he felt like throwing the towel. Slim didn't have that kind of experience and it was past the point of showing. He needed to relax, needed to let go, but most importantly he needed to sit on the side of big brotherhood that wasn't caught in a constant fret. He needed some fun.

And Jess' entire aim was to give it to him today.

He never intended his line to go beyond the bite. That Slim was bringing in the supper by himself was making the rancher's chest swell. But the longer Jess looked, he realized there was more to it than fisherman's pride. There were the soft lines of caring embedded into his cheeks, strength, as one who had endured before and had the ability to endure again, and it all seemed to be directed to Jess.

Suddenly that big brotherhood had additional meaning. For him.

Jess suddenly looked down. That poker face might fail him if he wasn't careful. Emotions, at least like these, were hard to hide. He'd had two brothers before. Both were lost in death's cruelty. Here was a chance at two more. Since it seemed that there was a willing offer in return, Jess would gladly take them. But didn't that mean he would need to act as a big brother too? Slim was right. Andy looked up to him and he needed to be worthy of that calling.

His grin spreading even further, Jess gave Slim the same nod that he had been given, seconding his promise from the day before. At least, this time around, he would do more than try.

The breath of contentment exiting his lungs, Slim leaned into the grassy knoll. He really needed this today. And he had Jess to thank for that. Or he could direct that praise up higher. He had, after all, gone to his knees a few days back.

He looked at Jess, rooting through the picnic basket for the last sandwich and let his lashes fall. They were going to be all right. It was just a scrape that they had gone through. That's all. Not even a real bleeder. And this very afternoon the bandage could be released from his soul.

But didn't his ma tell him a long time ago, don't pick at a scab?

.:.

Somehow Texas came to visit Wyoming.

Jess pulled at the fabric clinging to his chest, the buttons so hot on their reverse side he wouldn't be surprised if they would be leaving a mark before the day was through. Looking up high enough to view the cause of his sweat, Jess grimaced at its position in the sky. Only midway through the day. If he followed a rancher's normal hours, the rest of his body would melt into the dirt before he made it to sundown.

Reining in his mount, Jess' mouth wrapped around the hole of his canteen, but only a dribble landed on his tongue. "Dadgum."

The best source of a refill was about three miles back. The ranch house nine miles behind him. Which put Laramie three miles ahead. Relief was exactly the same distance in each direction. It would make most sense to turn around so that he could continue on with his job and check for strays. But it would be more practical to head on to town. After all, what cow would be fool enough to wander away from the herd in this heat? They would be content by the lake's side, swatting at flies with their tails, not out getting into trouble.

If only Jess had figured to do likewise.

Beckoned by the drink, Jess rode to Laramie. He needed more than what his head first wrapped around, but what was poured into a glass would be a good start. Except a single flow wasn't going to be enough to quench the call. He needed the entire bottle. Heck, he was so dry that he would have settled for an entire barrel. What he would have to settle for was what dripped off of his nose to land on his lips. Jess would never make it into the saloon.

The leather barely away from his backside, Jess sensed the gun behind him. His hand darted for the same.

"Harper."

A voice like that could only belong to an enemy. It was ocean deep, scented with hostility, and coated with a layer of ice that could stab right through a heart. But the strange thing about it was that the drawl was unfamiliar. Jess started the turn to make sure his sharp memory hadn't gone astray, but his torso became stuck mid-twist.

"Nuh-uh, don't turn around. I have a little speech I wanna give before I pull the trigger."

The lips were a slight smirk. "Maybe you should write it on your last will and testament. 'Cause I reckon them's gonna be the last thing you're ever gonna say."

"I'm surprised you haven't been tossed into six feet yet. With a mouth like you've got, Harper, you should've been shot full of holes a long time ago."

"Kinda hard to do when I'm the one that always draws first."

"You think you will this time?"

Jess refrained from nodding, wanting to know the reason before pushing the draw so soon. "Why're you aiming to kill me anyway?"

"You're name's Jess Harper, ain't it?"

Now he gave a single bob.

"That's reason enough."

He gave the body behind him the best look his position could afford without getting the dirt lifted at his feet. Unfamiliar from this angle. "You gonna share your handle or is it a big secret?"

"Wilson. Barclay Wilson."

Well Jess was right. He didn't know the man, but there was bound to be someone that did. Maybe right there in Laramie. "Someone send you or are you out name-hunting?"

"I'll tell you after I drop you into your grave."

"Huh. I figured it going the other way around."

Warnings sometimes lingered, others were less than a finger's snap. This one was somewhere in between. He would never offer it to someone determined to kill him, but Jess had the twinge of gratitude touch his core. He would need that added second.

Jess hated being flush against his horse when being called out. He had no idea if Wilson had the kind of eye to put lead into his flesh or knock it wide and go into his mount. His life was always at risk, but Jess refused to put his faithful companion's life on the same line. Hand going against his horse's rump, Jess hollered. At that very moment, his second was up.

Jess spun, landing on the ground with a thud, and even without a clear target he fired.

The report was loud, but weren't they all? This one was different, somehow. It was thunder's wild rumble. It was horror's most violent scream. It was agonizingly painful to bear, and Jess wasn't hit at all.

Looking up, Jess knew why. Not only had the bullet's exit from his gun and the fatal entry into Wilson made an exclamation point rise up to the heavens and pound back down, but so had a pair of brothers. Andy's "Wow!" was still ringing in his ears, but above that din was something very sinister. Slim's growl. And with the long legs in motion, those angry swells were coming his way.

"Andy, get in the wagon."

"But Slim, I want to congratulate Jess."

"The wagon." Slim didn't turn his eyes toward his brother, but the hardness in his voice was enough to prove he meant it. "Right now."

Jess watched Andy, for if he had kept his gaze upon Slim, likely he would have been burned by what was sizzling out of Slim's eyes. When had they come to town? Jess' brain marched up and down the morning's talk around the bacon and eggs. Aside from checking for strays, Jess' day had the chore of putting a new closure on the west gate and then when he returned back at the ranch, fire up the forge. Andy was to tend to the horses that came off the stages and give his pup a bath. Slim was going to ride over to the Fenton's to look over their horses, but there was something else. What was it that Jonesy said when Jess was swiping the last piece of bacon off the plate? He needed yeast and corn syrup. Didn't Slim add that he needed baling wire? Yes.

"Dadgum."

The boots stopped near his elbow. "What did I say a couple of days ago, Jess?"

Jess dared look up, and immediately regretted it. A bullet would have been less painful. "You didn't want me showing off in front of Andy."

"And what did you go and do?"

"I didn't, I mean, it wasn't my fault," Jess said, stuffing his gun back into its holster with a hard clop. "I didn't ask that fellow to draw on me."

"No. I saw that much. But so did Andy. And just like before, it's all about you, the other guy doesn't even matter."

Jess glanced at the dead man. He had actually mattered quite a bit. He might have had a name, but who was he really? Why was he trying to gun Jess down? Was he sent to do a job or was he just a random gunman?

But all of those question marks faded away, replaced with guilt lowering his head. He had failed the brotherhood when he broke his promise. "I'm sorry, Slim."

.:.

He had been using the hotel's corner as his support, but as Sherman and Harper parted, Scottie Brown pulled away from the wall, his hat going backward a notch by his thumb. "Well, now, I think I've got an idea."

Bailey stepped into his brother's shadow, eyes darting for Laramie's law. Cory was thankfully still out of town. "I hope it's better than your last. Hiring a professional gun to kill Harper obviously didn't work out, not when our man is being hauled off to the undertaker's."

"It will be. Some work's gonna need to go into it, but the end result will be the same."

"Harper being dead?"

"Yeah, and what's better is that you and I will never be put to blame."