Chapter Seven

There was a definite change in Andy's gait, lost of the limp that had gone to and fro with him since his accident. When he put his pants on at daybreak, he noticed that the bruises hadn't taken a dramatic fade, but even if they were still too swollen to sit without cringing, Andy would have still come close to skipping when he left the bedroom.

He clanked the silverware, the tone almost like a song. "I think Jess is better."

Jonesy's breadknife paused mid-slice. "Reading some doctor's books, have you?"

"Nope, but I can tell by the way he's breathing."

"I saw the same, and I think you're right. That broth we squeezed through his lips last night probably helped. A body can't get any strength without some kind of fuel to keep all the working parts in order. But you're gonna have to do something about that smile, Andy. Show it too much and the jig is up. We might be able to keep that bedroom door sealed when the passengers walk in and out looking for coffee and edibles, but I can't hide what's permanently attached to your face."

"I'll be careful. Heard anything about the trial?"

"Mose told me the judge is arriving on Wednesday. But Charlie swore he heard it direct from the man himself and that he's not coming 'til Friday."

"Must be a lot of trials to perform between here and Casper."

"I reckon the west is full of unsavory characters, not just out our backdoor. Come on, Andy. Get a cracking. I want that stagecoach and whoever's on board in and out so fast they won't even know there's a door knob over there, let alone a sick man laying on its other side."

"You can count on me."

And Jonesy could. Except there was one body on the ranch that he couldn't put any ounce of faith in.

The stagecoach's wheels headed Cheyenne's way, Jonesy stood in the middle of the barnyard, finger in a wag toward Fidget's nose. The mare had been so uncooperative that Jonesy's hands had flung sky-high before ordering Andy to get a different horse out of the pen. Fidget would be staying home on this run.

"I reckon I should've just given up the moment you started snorting," Jonesy said, staring at his nemesis. "That way we wouldn't have delayed the coach. You're lucky that the lady and gent on board would've rather stretched their legs than go inside for tea. Sure she would've turned her nose up at our primitives, but that nose also might've smelled something fishy."

"Who're you talking to, Jonesy?" Andy called from the clothes line where he was pinning up the freshly cleaned bedding.

"Nobody," Jonesy answered, but then nodded his head at the horse. "So how do you like being referenced as a nobody?"

"I'm just about finished here, Jonesy. What should I do next?"

"You still get dizzy when you bend over?"

Andy gave it a test. "No."

"Then gather up some wood and take it on in. Too hot for anything in the fireplace, but we still gotta eat cooked food." Jonesy watched the boy for a moment, making sure that Andy's hand didn't rush toward his head when he leaned over to pick up a chunk of firewood. Satisfied in what he saw, Jonesy reached for Fidget's line when the mare promptly backed up.

The last thing he needed was Fidget to continue to prove her name's accuracy. No. That was definitely not so. The last thing he needed was a visit from the Brown brothers. And if Jonesy wasn't mistaking, and it was a rare event when he was, they were just taking the corner atop the hill that would bring them to his front door.

He tapped Fidget's nose. "If you ever wanna do me a favor, now's the time. Plop out one of your messiest right in those two sidewinders' path."

There would be no time taken to see if she would.

His steps quick toward Andy's position, Jonesy tugged on the boy's arm. "Forget the wood and get inside. We've gotta work mighty quick."

At the hooves stilling outside, Jonesy left the bedroom, tugging on his vest to make sure it was straighter than before. He debated meeting the Browns fully loaded, but Jonesy figured them seeing the pair of black eyes staring at them through the door's crack would be a rather obvious sign that there was something in the house he didn't want them to see.

The shotgun was given a long look before he touched the knob, but Jonesy left it where it belonged, the smile hopefully perfected as he swung the door wide. "Well howdy, boys. Surprised to see you out this way. How's your pa?"

"Fine," Scottie answered, hooking his thumbs into his gun belt. "Complaining about the heat, though."

Jonesy shrugged. "Who isn't?"

"Men who are reared in Texas wouldn't mind, I'd bet."

The jab hit Jonesy between his shoulder blades, but he didn't dare let it make him shiver. He never thought he would ever be thankful for ninety-plus degrees. "Could be. But since this kinda temp's ain't to our liking, you wanna water your horses? Dip your own heads in maybe?"

"We'll let our mounts decide," Scottie said, motioning toward his brother. "We'd rather come in away from the sun, if you don't mind."

Oh, he minded, a great deal, but refusing would be a broader point toward the bedroom door than if Jonesy himself jutted his finger that way. "Come on in, then."

His back momentarily toward the two brothers, Jonesy let out a puff of air through his mouth. It had been more years than he could count since Jonesy had been behind a desk. Looking up at a stern schoolmarm on the day of a test, he worried that she would stand over him with her ugliest of looks and drop the test in his lap, bearing his failure in bold print across the entire front page. This very moment Jonesy felt that strange prickle, alike with all those years ago. He better have all the answers right, for this test was far greater than anything school had ever taught him.

Picking up the coffeepot, Jonesy held it upward, its set down a moment after a pair of declining head shakes. Best get right to the point anyway. "Well, what can I do for you? Nobody rides around for nothing these days."

Scottie's eyes shifted to his brother before landing back on Jonesy. "Where's Jess Harper?"

He took no pleasure that his instincts were spot-on. If there would be any hoorahs for himself later, it would be because Jonesy gave a performance any stage actor would be jealous of. "Why, he's dead. Thought everybody in the territory knew that by now."

"Well of course that's what everybody's saying. But I don't think that's what you're believing."

"What else is there to believe? Sheriff Cory brought his coat, all bloodied up. A preacher-fellow did the burying. And Slim's sitting in jail accused of his murder. Pretty hard facts to ignore if you ask me."

Scottie lifted one shoulder. "I guess we were wondering why there hasn't been a funeral for him."

Uh-oh. A detail had gone past Jonesy with such speed he felt its wind hit him in the face, but that wasn't all. He felt the nervous bead of sweat form underneath his hat. Somehow Jonesy had to will it to not fall or a suspicious finger might reach out and catch it.

"Well, it's not that I haven't thought about one. The way I figure it, I reckon we oughta wait for Slim to get outta jail. I don't care what the sheriff says, Slim didn't kill him, and Slim oughta be at Jess' funeral service, as close as they were."

"So Slim is innocent?"

Jonesy looked at Bailey. That was a switch. He figured Scottie was going to keep doing all the talking. "It's my opinion, but yes."

"Then who do you think shot him?"

"I don't know," Jonesy answered, but if his tongue was allowed to reveal the truth, he would have said that he suspected the man that was on the other side of his gaze was responsible.

The Cheyenne story and the marshal that told it be hanged, when Jonesy first looked at Jess' wound, he figured it had been there longer than the morning he was supposed to have been shot. Which meant that any timeframe the Brown brothers created for themselves went right out the window. But it also meant that Jonesy had to be even more careful, because if he really was looking at the man that downed Jess, he wouldn't miss the fatal blow a second time. Maybe even take himself and Andy along with him.

The dryness in Jonesy's throat was given a slight reprieve when he swallowed. "You sure you two don't want any coffee? I have tea, too."

"There's only one thing I want." Bailey took a step toward the bedroom door, casting his words over his shoulder. "And that's to be sure."

"Look all you want," Jonesy said, keeping close in their trail. "If I were hiding anything I wouldn't have let you in past the front step."

"We'll see."

The door burst open, Scottie and Bailey paused just inside the bedroom's entry, allowing Jonesy to slip in beside them. Andy looked up surprised from where he sat in the middle of Jess' bed, the blankets that Jonesy hadn't had time to tuck into the corners even more disheveled as Andy struggled to get his boots off.

"Andy was just fixing to take a nap." Jonesy gave the two a sideways glance. "He was injured awhile back, you know."

"My head still hurts some," Andy said, touching his forehead.

"Mmm."

Jonesy wasn't sure which one that came out of, and since it sounded closer to a growl in his ears, he kept his position stilled. Jump and he might give it all away.

Scottie stepped toward the bunk that Jonesy called his own and then his glare was all for the man that bedded there. "Someone's been at the Rockland cabin."

"Oh? Has somebody decided to give the old place a chance? Last I knew there wasn't a chimney standing. Gonna be a lotta work for whoever's taking it up."

"I didn't mean that anyone's moved in, just that someone was there."

Jonesy shook his head. "Wouldn't know."

"Wouldn't you? There were wagon tracks that entered and then left again. Seems to be that they followed the north road that connects to the Sherman ranch."

"Lotta people use that road, why, I'd imagine that's the same route you boys would've taken to get here. Think of all the wheels and hooves that stomp that way on a daily basis. Would be rather hard to pin-point it exact."

Scottie took one step closer to him. "I did."

"Maybe you oughta take a job as a trail scout someplace. Pays pretty good, I hear."

Scottie fought the desire to grind his teeth together and do the same to Jonesy in the palms of his hands. "Bailey, go take a look outside. Don't leave any building without giving it a full going over. I'll keep Mr. Jones company."

"Very thoughtful of you," Jonesy said, blooming just big enough of a smile to be believable. "It's been kinda lonely around here for manly talk. Sorry, Andy, not trying to insult. But a fellow does get used to having a bunch of low voices rolling around the house, and then when they're gone, it just feels downright empty."

"Uh-huh." Scottie barely nodded, trying to bend his head at the curtain's angle so he could see his brother. He straightened when he saw Bailey's frame coming onto the porch, shifting his gaze again when he reentered the bedroom.

Bailey held his hands wide. "He's not here."

Jonesy's brows were given a rise. "If it's Jess you're talking about, of course he's not here. The ground where he's buried is about six miles northwest of here. Andy and I went the other day to give it a look over. Was pleased that the preacher put a cross up, but then again, him being a preacher it's the natural thing to do. Maybe if you ride that way and give his grave a proper vigil, it'll ease your minds up. Did mine, anyhow."

Scottie's hand rubbed across his mouth, sliding up to cover his cheek before resting alongside his jaw. "Maybe we'll just do that."

Jonesy followed the pair to the door, holding his breath in case the two weren't actually going to go through it. They did, and he put his hand into the air as if he were waving on his favorite guests in the world. "Thanks for stopping by, boys. Give my best to your pa."

The door closed between them, Jonesy let out a whistle of relief. But maybe it was too soon for that. The curtain parted, Jonesy allowed one eye to peer through. It was true that the Browns were on horseback, but they hadn't left yet. One was staring at the barn, the other the bunkhouse, then collectively they shrugged.

Feeling Andy's body press into his frame, Jonesy wrapped one arm around the thin shoulders. "You think they bought it?"

"Dunno. But you sure did sound convincing."

"Good. Mizz Meechim would be proud," Jonesy answered, giving the spinster schoolmarm one last look in his mind, and then hopefully dismiss her forever.

"Who?"

"Never mind." Jonesy shook his head, the final turn going toward the pair on horseback, giving their mounts a kick. "Looks like they're finally leaving. I was pretty sure I could sway Bailey, considering he doesn't have a full bottle upstairs, but that Scottie, I knew I'd have a harder time with him. Thought he was gonna break me when he started talking about the Rockland cabin."

"Me too." Putting his face in the window, Andy cringed when Scottie turned his way, but then when Bailey did the same, Andy's eyes widened. Something was kicking him in the head. "Jonesy…"

He caught the fear immediately. "What is it boy?"

"That man…"

"Which one, Bailey or Scottie?"

"Bailey, I think."

"What about him?"

"I remember him from someplace."

"You've seen him lots of times before in Laramie."

"It wasn't in Laramie. It was…" His hand went into his hair, as if the rub would make the blurry image clearer. When his fingers reached the cut, feeling its scab, it became crystal. "Jonesy, Bailey Brown pushed me off the ridge."

"You sure?"

Andy nodded. "I don't think I was supposed to see him, but right before I fell, I saw his face between two rocks."

"Andy, you know what this means?" Jonesy waited until the boy shook his head. Jonesy could have done similar, as the truth in its entirety wasn't completely clear in his view, but he bet he could part the rest of the clouds with only a couple of waves of his hands. "If you're right and Bailey was behind your accident, then the Browns have likely been involved in this right from the beginning."

"Are you saying one of them shot Jess?"

"If I had a large sum to bet, I'd lay it all down that it was."

Andy's hand went against his mouth. "Then they'll try it again if they find out the truth."

That was exactly the reason why Jonesy had hidden Jess when he saw them coming down the rise.

"The only thing that's bothering me about putting the finger of blame against those two is why don't they believe he's dead? If one of them did pull the trigger, they should know Jess' end, right? Or didn't they follow up their shot?"

The answer would get caught in the mysterious place of nowhere. Even if there was a flutter of some kind of idea rotating around each mind, it would soon get forgotten. Something knocked against the wall. Their eyes met and then immediately widened.

"Jess!"

Jonesy put his hands against the trunk, lighter as it wasn't full of linens for bandages anymore and then gave a tug. "It's sure a good thing that the Browns never knew how the furniture is supposed to stand in here. I figured they'd look in the closet if they saw the outline. Hop up there and take that Indian blanket down you got from Little Cloud."

"That was sure quick thinking, Jonesy, hanging the blanket up like this."

He winked. "There must be a little scoundrel in me after all, huh?"

"Sure is."

"Now let's see what's happened inside," Jonesy said, gently pulling the closet door open. No sooner had it gone wide that he caught Jess' head in his hands. "Jess!"

He had seated Jess on Mary's old trunk, tucked behind the few dresses Slim couldn't bear to part with. Jonesy didn't know that if sometime during the last few minutes, Jess must have tried to waken, or if it was just his body going topsy-turvy on its own, but the fall forward put his head into the door. And now Jess had the shades of a bruise forming over his left eye.

"Help me get him back in bed."

Andy spun toward the window. "What if the Browns come back?"

"Then I'll meet them, scattergun style. Come on, Andy, get his feet. He's been folded up for far too long."

They put him on his side first so Jonesy could check the bandaging. No new splashes of red stained the white, just what had absorbed the last time Jonesy had changed the wrap. Sliding his hand up and over his shoulder to rest against the chest, he noticed Jess' breaths, changed from the gentle rise and fall to being more frantic.

There was reason. Eyelids trying to make an opening, a trickle of blue, pained and anxious, met Jonesy's darker shade.

"He's trying to wake up."

"Jess?" Andy implored, pushing closer as Jonesy made the attempt to get Jess' mattress to hold his back still.

Jonesy's hands eased against the body that was attempting to rise. "Lay back down, Jess. It's too early for getting back to work even if I could use the break."

The moan was his only reply. Or was it? Jess' head was against the pillow, rotating against its fluff, with his lips doing more than expressing his pain. He was trying to speak.

Fingers patting into each cheek, Jonesy leaned over the visibly shaking frame. "Jess, it's me Jonesy. Can you hear me boy?"

The nod wasn't as obvious as a cannon's blast, but Jonesy caught the change of movement. Everything could be over in one single answer. Even if it made his back want to drink liniment for the rest of the night, Jonesy would get on horseback just to take the news about Bailey or Scottie Brown being the culprit into Laramie quicker. And in turn, get Slim out of jail and home where he belonged.

Jonesy leaned over Jess' face, angling his ear directly over his quivering mouth. "Who shot you?"

"Sl…"

It was too faint, even at that range.

"What?"

"Sl…"

Same sound, but still no real answer.

Jonesy came close to shouting. "Jess, answer me plain. Who shot you?"

"Slim."