Chad led Buck down the street to the livery stable. He had almost forgotten about Joe's horse and knew that the injured man cared a lot about the animal. As a last service to his friend, he would see that the buckskin would get good care while his owner was laid up.

The livery stable was easily found because of the corrals full with horses of all shapes and colors. If only Chad had seen this first. He could have found a horse without Joe getting hurt. Trying not to dwell on the events of the day, Chad led the horse into the open door, looking for the curator. He spied a man on a chair, his feet propped up on a bale of hay, snoring to beat the band. Chad contemplated waking the man, but because the stable was a fair size, he couldn't imagine just one older man taking care of it all by himself. He decided to look for someone else.

Leaving Buck at the entrance, Chad ventured deeper into the dim interior. There were many stalls, only a few empty. He had nearly reached the back of the long building when a clatter sounded to his right. Reflexes overtook him and he spun while dropping to one knee, his gun in his hand. A figure was standing in one of the stalls, and though it was dark, Chad saw him jerk in alarm. "Who's there?" Chad asked, easing himself back to both feet.

"Reckon I could ask you the same question." The voice was deep and gravelly, old and severe.

His guard went down a little, enough for him to step back from the man and put his gun away. "Just looking for somebody to take care of that horse up there."

"You're in luck, mister, 'cause I work here." The man shuffled out of the stall, again giving Chad the impression that this was an older man. As the man limped forward, something tall and wooden fell down, almost striking Chad. He caught it easily. The light shining in a beam from the door made it possible to see things in the center of the aisle, so when Chad caught the object he recognized it immediately. It was a crutch. Embarrassed for some reason, Chad tipped it back in the man's direction. "Sorry," he apologized.

"What for?" the man growled. "I ain't no cripple. Just a busted leg, that's all."

Chad felt ruffled by the man's gruff attitude, but let it go. He waited for the man to start forward to fall in behind. It was a gunfighter's habit, one used to keep potential threats in front, but the man remained where he was. Chad suddenly got the impression that the stableman had the same habit and was waiting for Chad to go first. Chad shrugged. What was one old man going to do to him? He wasn't even wearing a gun. Walking ahead, Chad reached Buck quickly. The horse snorted as he heard the odd thumping stride of the stable keeper, and Chad turned to watch the man approach. The man handled his crutches easily, hopping along with his broken leg extended before him. As the light got better, Chad was surprised to see that the man was actually much younger than he sounded. In fact, he was probably even a little younger than Chad himself. It had been that older-sounding, cynical voice that had given him the wrong impression, Chad figured. The man, or maybe a boy, had smooth, tan skin and was fit and thin, not at all matching that deep voice. Even now, the boy's suspicious eyes were boring a hole through Chad. "What're you lookin' at, cowboy?"

Chad felt his heart leap a touch, something he was not accustomed to experiencing. His gut was rarely wrong, and right now it was telling him that this young man was dangerous. He covered his discomfort by avoiding the question. "Ah, nothing. Take care of my friend's horse, will you?"

"Sure," that gravelly voice muttered. "How long?"

Chad fished out a few coins, handing them over. "How long will these keep him?"

The young man leaned on his crutches as he spread the coins over one palm with his thumb. "About a week."

Chad gave him some more. "Might need to keep him longer."

"Why?"

Chad didn't feel like explaining the situation, so kept it brief. "He's laid up at Doc's. Might be a spell before he recovers enough to take care of ol' Buck here."

The man nodded, putting the coins in his pocket. "As you can see, I have a hard time liftin' down the saddle, so if you don't mind…."

"Oh, sure!" Chad did as asked, putting the saddle where the other man directed him. Chad watched the young man finish up putting Buck away. The silence was oppressive, and not one able to stand and do nothing, Chad attempted to make conversation with the moody stableman. "So, what happened?" He gestured to the casted leg.

The man looked at him a touch irritably. "Horse spooked at a rattler. Some fella found me out there and brought me into Dodge half-dead from sun fever."

"Sounds familiar," Chad commiserated. When he received a sharp glance, he explained. "I mean, I've been in a similar situation."

The man didn't answer, apparently uninterested, so Chad bit his tongue. Once Buck was comfortably stowed, the man hobbled out of the stall, holding on to the walls for support. Chad considered handing the man his crutches but thought better of it. The man got the wooden props under his arms but didn't move. Rather, he just stared at Chad. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"Ah, no."

"Just travelin' through, are you?"

"Maybe. Why?"

The man shrugged. "No reason. Just that our wonderful marshal here don't usually let our—" He stopped himself, swallowing. "Your kind stay around here."

Gleaming leather just over the shoulder of the man, hanging from a peg on the wall caught Chad's eye. Shifting his weight a little, he was able to make out one of the finest gun fighting rigs he had ever seen, its black leather shining due to recent oiling and frequent care. "Ah…I just so happen to be leaving town as soon as I can get myself set up with a horse and supplies."

"Looking for a horse, are you?"

Chad nodded.

"Got some for sale out here. Just got a nice fancy one," the man's eyes trailed up and down Chad, "that you might favor."

Chad quirked an eyebrow at the man but followed him outside to the pens. At their approach, a sturdy, medium-sized bay approached the fence, whickering. The man stopped momentarily to pat the horse's nose, his entire body changing from uptight and guarded to relaxed and gentle. "This one's mine. Haven't had him for long, but he's already spoiled rotten."

Chad smiled. The man couldn't be all bad if he cared about his horse so much. "Is he the one who dumped you out on the prairie?"

"Well, can't give him too hard of a time, can I? He didn't even wander off after that happened. I might have been able to get out of there on him if I could have stood on my own to get onto him." The man seemed lost in a memory. "Wasn't for the man who saved me, I probably would have died out there…still, sure hate to owe a man anything." There was a distinct air of uneasiness about the man, but he shrugged it off. "Well, over here. These are all for sale, but that one right there is the best in the lot."

Chad stepped onto the lowest bar of the corral to get a better view. The horses started to mill around, stirred by their approach. The stableman leaned against the fence, pointing. "That…there, that one, with the blaze."

Chad nearly fell off the fence. It was the black from earlier! "How…uh, hm," he trailed off.

The man smirked up at him. "Chad Cooper, right? You're the one whose friend nearly got done in down at the corrals today. He said you'd be comin' 'round, lookin' for a horse."

"Who?"

"The rancher whose hired man got killed, the one who tried to kill your friend. He brought this black down here, feelin' real bad. Here, he gave this to me to give to you." The man extended a folded piece of paper.

Chad accepted it and started to read. "This bill of sale pronounces that C. Cooper is now the legal owner of this horse, one black gelding with white markings. Signed, Hank Murphy. Witnessed by Marshal M. Dillon, Dodge City."

Chad gaped in shock, not sure how to respond.

"Yeah, he said he felt real bad about what happened and that he felt like you won this horse, fair and square."

"Won him? We bet in money."

"He knew you were down there lookin' to buy a horse. Truth is, this horse is worth twice of any of the others you see around here. Nobody had much luck gentling him though, until now."

"But Joe was the one who rode him," Chad said.

"Dadgum, mister, somebody gives you a horse, don't argue him out of it."

Chad smiled. "I guess you're right." He grabbed a lariat hanging on a post and hopped the fence. The horses circled around, but Chad had gotten a lot of practice during the Favor drive. After only a couple tries, Chad had him roped. Surprisingly, the black didn't fight him too hard. Did horses remember things, like who had been gentle with them, even if it was only one instance? The horse allowed Chad to put a halter on him and lead him back to the stable. The man swung along on his crutches behind. The napping man was awake now, looking grumpy. The man with the broken leg shied away from the presumed owner, staying outside when Chad entered. Chad noted this, but said nothing. He approached the man, wrinkling his nose in distaste at the man's appearance, for the man had the eyes and nose of a drunk.

"Take care of your horse, mister? Where's that lazy bum? Boy! Boy, get your butt in here!"

Chad held up a hand. "No, just looking to buy some tack. Got anything for sale?"

"Over here."

Chad bought a rather fancy rig with a matching bridle, using up a good chunk of his bankroll, but he didn't have to save any for a horse, so…. The black was a spooky animal to saddle and threatened to jump at any time. Chad practiced what he had seen Joe do and found the method to work rather well. Gently whispering and rubbing, he soon had the black saddle cinched on and the bit in the black's mouth. He bid farewell to the irritable man, walking out the door. The man on crutches was there waiting. "Where you headed?" he asked.

Chad situated his bedroll and saddle bags. "Mmm, I don't know. Haven't decided yet. Why?"

"Was thinkin' on leavin' town myself."

Chad wasn't sure why the young man was telling him this, but recalling his earlier aversion to seeing the stable owner, he asked, "Leave, huh? That your pa in there?"

"My pa? Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Oh, I don't know. Just seemed logical since you're working here but you don't seem to like him very much."

"Well, the feelin's mutual. The marshal just talked him into hirin' me on while my leg mended. And today I'm gettin' the cast off, least that's what Doc says. Then I'll be free and clear."

"That right? So, where are you headed?"

The man squinted at him through dark lashes. "You ever been to Texas?"

Chad laughed a little. "Oh, yes. Seen a good chunk of it, actually."

"Ever thought much about seein' it again?"

Shrugging, Chad answered, "I don't know, maybe. I reckon it's about like any other place. You looking for a trail partner?"

"Maybe. I got a job lined up down there. You look like a man who can handle himself. Seems to me that you might be able to find a place there, too." The man's blue eyes were never still, making eye contact with Chad here and there, but then looking away, not missing anything. Chad knew what made a man so edgy; it was the same restlessness that plagued him. He knew what kind of work the man was alluding to, and it honestly surprised Chad that a man so young would be involved in that sort of occupation. He considered the young man fully. Almost the same height as himself, the man was whipcord lean. He was rather handsome but was intense and angry looking, something that was the complete opposite of Joe. Chad felt a deep sense of loss wash over him when he thought of Joe, something that was not missed by the other man. "People like us can't afford to make attachments," he said. "We try, but then they just end up gettin' hurt. I know, better'n most. As well as you do."

To any onlooker, the comment would have seemed drawn out of the blue, but to Chad it made perfect sense. He nodded sadly. Chad shook his shoulders and took a deep but shaky breath. "Texas, huh? Why not?"

The man gave a roguish half grin. He held out a tan, strong hand to shake. "Name's Harper, Jess Harper."