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2

Some hours later Slim awoke from a much-needed but not particularly refreshing sleep. He still felt a distinct reluctance to move from where he was stretched out on the lumpy bed, but he instantly sensed that he was not alone in the room. He was also acutely aware that the other person was not Jess, as long familiarity born of living under the same roof assured him. So who was it? Whoever they were, their intentions did not seem to be hostile, at least not at the moment, although in this town you never knew and it paid to be careful.

So he settled for opening his eyes a crack very cautiously in order to check out the room. The only comfortable chair (if it could be dignified as such!) had been drawn up to the window, to make the most of the light. The figure sitting in it was silhouetted against the sunbeams, which glanced dazzlingly off a waterfall of silver-gold hair.

Recollection smote Slim smartly and he closed his eyes hastily, wondering if he should fake continued slumber. He had an instinctive feeling, however, that he had been rumbled. Anyway, what was he fussing about? He opened his eyes again, stretched and hoisted himself into sitting position. At least he wasn't actually in bed, thereby saving potential embarrassment. Somehow, though, he doubted if much embarrassed Chantal Picard – not if her history with Jess was anything to go by, anyway.

She was industriously concentrating on mending the more-or-less dry shirt in which Jess had had his close encounter with certain trees. When Slim stirred, she looked up with a grin and a conspiratorial wink: "Don't tell him, will you?"

"I thought you said you wouldn't darn for him?" Slim pointed out in puzzlement.

"Socks," Chantal replied concisely. "I draw a line at socks. Shirts are a pain, too."

More puzzlement: "Then why are you darning it?"

"It takes my mind off whatever trouble he's getting into now."

"Really? I'd've thought it would remind you of the last lot?" Slim suggested.

"Yes, but he survived that!" Chantal pointed out. "Anyway, don't give me away. I don't want him thinking I'm going to take on the job permanently." She paused to think for a moment and added with amusement: "Although given his ability to land up to his ears in trouble, I should think there'll be plenty more where this came from."

Slim laughed. "Jonesy reckons Jess does it deliberately – some kind of a vendetta against shirts."

This made Chantal giggle. "I guess it is a permanent job then. Pity neither Jonesy nor I want it!"

"You don't?" The words were out of Slim's mouth before he had thought about them. He was instantly embarrassed, as he felt he had no business to be asking Chantal any such question. But it was too late now. He'd just spoken from his heart and it was always intensely protective of his family, including Jess. And judging by the amount of fighting he and Chantal did, Slim was not at all sure that one or other or both of them didn't need some kind of protection.

Chantal dropped the shirt into her lap and gave him a long, thoughtful look. "Not the darning. The rest …" She hesitated, clearly unsure how Slim was going to react. "Knowing Jess is knowing he's going to attract trouble like the sparks fly upward, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Slim nodded. "A couple of years of living with him has certainly taught me that!"

Chantal giggled again. "A couple of encounters did, in my case! Not that I mind the trouble, I rather like it, only he will yell at me to get the hell out from under his feet."

"He does?" Slim blinked in surprise. "And you put up with him yelling?"

"It's usually justified," Chantal admitted with unusual candour. "And anyway I do my fair share of yelling back."

"You do!" Slim told her feelingly. "It's most disconcerting."

"It is?" She thought about this. "I suppose you think women should be quiet and gentle and know their place?"

"I do not!" Slim was stung into defensiveness by this accusation, but Chantal took no notice.

"I've got four brothers between me and Celestine. And I'm the eldest."

"That makes a difference?"

"It means I made my father give me the same training they had," Chantal told him and explained: "I can shoot and ride as well as they can and, in my own way, I'm a mean fighter too! But Jess has some pretty exacting standards, so I'm having to learn plenty more skills and much more accuracy."

It was Slim's turn to think. Most of his encounters with Jess and Chantal together had given him the impression their wrangling was fraught with potential danger to life and limb. Now it had become evident Chantal was more than capable of giving Jess a run for his money. Slim was not sure how this made him feel, but he had to re-evaluate his own reactions: it certainly explained why Jess seemed so casual about Chantal's safety.

As if to confirm this thought, she went on: "I'm not anything like as fragile as I look!" It was true enough if she had made the arduous journey from the East by train, stage and wagon, purely with the intention of finding Jess. He shied away for the moment from the sheer nerve and single-mindedness this implied: it certainly wasn't the kind of thing you expected a woman to do.

"I guess not. What I can't guess is what you're doing in a place like this. Do you know how dangerous it is?"

Chantal nodded briefly and explained: "I came with a message for Jess."

"A message?" Slim's eyebrows shot up again.

"Yes. I happened to meet his former commanding officer and agreed to bring a message from him."

"From the Ranulfiar? You know Warwick?" For a moment Slim's expression revealed uncertainty and confusion. Chantal observed this with sudden understanding. The bond between Slim and Jess was so strong that any other allegiance was going to be a challenge.

"I met him quite by accident," she corrected. "He'd heard about the problem the two of you are investigating and he wanted to send a warning. He needed a messenger who wouldn't be connected with his investigation or yours."

Slim looked about as convinced by this explanation as Jess had been. But something else was driving his thoughts, even beyond the present task. "Warwick knew you and Jess are …" he hesitated, searching for an appropriate word and finally settling on; "acquainted?" It was a bitter thought that Jess would confide such a relationship to someone else when he had never discussed it with Slim.

Chantal shook her head and a reminiscent smile lit up her face. "I met Callum Harper at the same time."

Illumination and relief flooded through Slim. Things were beginning to make sense.

"And once you've met Cal," Chantal continued laughingly, "the connection with Jess is blindingly obvious."

"It certainly is." Slim had to admit that the physical resemblance between the two cousins was uncanny. Temperamentally, of course, they were completely different: the calm, responsible Callum Harper had been heard to lament on more than one occasion his close link with his reckless and impetuous younger cousin.

"I'm afraid I immediately jumped to the relationship and took advantage." Actually Chantal didn't seem at all apologetic. Slim spared a brief feeling of commiseration with Cal and Vin Warwick, even though he had yet to enter into a relaxed relationship with these two men who knew Jess's past so well. He had, however, had enough experience of Chantal's single-minded determination and contempt for convention to feel a brotherly sympathy in the face of her undoubted onslaught on the unsuspecting members of the Ranulfiar.

"So you agreed to get a message to Jess … to us?"

"Yes. They know about the situation you trying to get proof of and the Ranulfiar will provide back-up if you need it. He said to be careful – it's a big operation - and also because Bud Carlin escaped when it all began."

Slim's reaction was similar to Jess's. He seemed to withdraw into thought, shutting down all his responses as he considered the last piece of information. Like Jess, he clearly took it very seriously. Although she could not know it, this was scarcely surprising, since it was in conflict with Carlin that their friendship had been forged.

Chantal was watching him closely. She could read the similarity of reaction, even if she didn't know the circumstances. But she respected its intensity and just waited until Slim was ready to resume the conversation.

When he did, it was with a question. "Did Warwick explain what we're investigating?"

She shook her head and he continued: "But Jess must have told you?"

Chantal's expression became entirely serious as she replied bluntly: "He said I had to ask you. You're in charge. If you don't want me to know because I'll jeopardise what you're doing, I'm to mind my own business and keep out of it – sin argumento!"

"And you're willing to do that?"

Chantal nodded and said: "I respect your decision." The slightest smile touched her lips as she murmured, half to herself, "And I know when Jess really means it!"

Perhaps it was Jess's unexpected deferral to his authority or perhaps just a realisation that Chantal's response was both honest and sincere. Whatever the reason and without a moment's hesitation, Slim told her.