HONORABLE INTENTIONS

CHAPTER 3

We made our way along Front Street, heading to Mort's office. Everything looked kinda peaceful in town. Folks were just going about their business while we rode in with two bodies in back of the wagon. Occasionally someone would send a curious glance in our direction and then go on their way.

Cal, from the Livery stable, came out and gave me a wave. Two ladies strollin' along the boardwalk in front of one of them fancy hat stores laughed gaily, but when they saw us, one of 'em covered her mouth and whispered something to her friend. The laughter fell from their faces and they quickly moved on by.

Jim Weston, a man I'd helped with branding just last spring stepped out of the General store. He stood, leaning against a post, staring at the back of the wagon until he lifted his gaze and his eyes met mine. I raised my hand to wave, but his face was set like granite, eyes dark slits buried deep in a frown and his mouth tight and unforgiving. I let my left hand drop back down, resting it across my achin' right one.

I felt a knot coil tight in my belly and thought back to what Gladys had said on the way here. How the folks in town had had a look on their faces, and voices that stayed quiet while Deevy ran off at the mouth, accusin'and threatenin' me. Puttin' ideas in the minds of people I'd called friends.

As we pulled up in front of the jail, I was hoping Mort was in his office and I didn't have to go searching for him. Laramie wasn't feelin' like a place I oughta be wanderin' around. Not today.

I climbed down out of the wagon, offered Gladys my arm and eased her onto the road.

I untied my horse and the Morgans' two from the back of the buckboard and secured them to the hitching rail. Traveller nickered quietly and nuzzled against my shoulder. I ran the knuckles of my left hand down his nose, then gave him a rub along his neck.

We'd only just mounted the boardwalk when Mort came out of the jailhouse. He looked like he'd had a long night and some of those age lines around his eyes seemed deeper today. He coulda done with a shave, too, but then, I wasn't one to talk.

"Howdy, Mort."

"Looks like you've had a busy mornin', Jess." Mort tipped his hat to Gladys, "Mornin' Miss." He glanced in the bed of the buckboard and looked at me before stepping down and walkin' toward the wagon. He leaned over and lifted the blanket staring hard at my bounty.

"Them the Morgan brothers?"

"Yeah." I moved to stand beside Mort, watchin' his reaction… wonderin' if he was having the same doubts about me as the good folk of Laramie.

"Guess there was no other way." He wasn't accusin' me, just stating facts. I knew that, but it kinda riled me anyway. He knew they'd come gunning for me, how'd he expect it to end? It was always gonna be them or me. So I kept my answer simple.

"Nope."

"Better get them over to the Undertakers. I'll get one of the boys from the General store to drive the wagon over to Clem's. You come inside and tell me what happened." Turning to Gladys he said, "Young lady, you better come in as well."

Gladys nodded. She looked somehow younger now she weren't all spit and vinegar. I put my good hand on her back and guided her out of the late morning heat and into the Sheriff's office.

While Mort was gone I found Gladys a chair and fixed us some coffee and then sat down myself, leaning back waiting for Mort's return. The coffee was strong and black. I added two spoons of sugar, stirred and took a long swallow.

"Them folks out there, they ain't actin' too friendly, Jess." Gladys said, keeping her eyes focused on the coffee cup in her hands.

"Yeah, well, I reckon they'll get over it. Given time." But it hit a place deep down inside, knowin' what some of 'em were believin' about me. Folks I'd called friends… shared a meal with, ridden posse side by side. Folk's that'd come to me when they had troubles and me and Slim had lend a hand. Yeah, I reckon it was hurtin' some, knowin' they were thinkin' I was a coward.

Three mouthfuls of coffee later Mort came through the door. He pushed at his hat, readjusted it on his head and gave me a long hard look. "Jess, I don't need to tell you, I sure was worried about you, boy."

"Ain't no use worryin' on my account, Mort."

His look told me he didn't agree. "So... you better tell me what happened."

I took a sip of my coffee and sat up straighter in the chair recounting what had happened out at Miss Moore's. I left out the part about hurtin' my gun hand yesterday. It was done. Didn't matter now. And it was better Mort believed I had two good hands when, like I promised, I left out the part about Gladys drillin' Al Morgan in the back with a bullet from her derringer. Explained it as getting hit in the cross fire. There'd been a lot of lawmen after the Morgan boys for some time. I didn't think they'd be worryin' too much 'bout how it all went down.

Gladys Moore had been sittin' real quiet-like, staring at her cup while I filled Mort in on the details. When I was done talkin' she still sat there, small and silent as a mouse.

Mort turned to her and asked, "You got anything to add to that, Miss?"

"No Sheriff, it's how Mr. Harper said." And she gave me a look, a silent gesture of thanks.

Mort made his way over to the stove, poured himself a cup of coffee, then brought the pot over and filled mine up. "Ma'am?" He offered the pot to Gladys. She shook her head no, dropped her gaze to stare at her free hand which was drawing small circles on the side of her cup. Again, I found myself feelin' all kinds of sorry for her.

We heard horses pull up out front. It was the kid from the General Store bringin' back the buckboard. Mort turned from where he was fiddlin' with the coffee pot on the stove, and looked out the window.

"Miss, if you got nothing to add, then you're free to go. Do you need someone to help you get home?" He wandered over and leaned one hip on the corner of his desk.

"Sheriff, I been on my own a long time before I met Joe Morgan and his two no-good brothers. I know how to take care of myself." Then standing, she placed her cup on the desk beside Mort and looked at me and nodded, "I thank you, Mr. Har… I thank you, Jess, for what you did for me today."

I stood up too, and said, "Ma'am, I'm real sorry it turned out like this. If there's anything I can do to help..."

"I'll keep that in mind. Thank you." She nodded towards Mort, "Sheriff," then to me, offering a faint smile, "Jess." She took her leave, pulling the door closed behind her without a backward glance. I wondered what she was gonna do. Would she stay in Laramie, or head home? I got the feeling yesterday home wasn't exactly a place she wanted to go back to.

"Interesting girl, that one," Mort commented. "Wonder how she got mixed up with the likes of Joe Morgan and his brothers."

"I think she was just lookin' for a place to belong, Mort. Everybody needs somethin' or someone to call their own." I took a long swallow of the coffee. Not sure if he could cook, but Mort sure knew how to make a darn good brew.

"Yeah, Jess, maybe you're right." Mort downed the rest of his coffee, put his empty cup on the desk and crossed his arms over his chest. He seemed to be ponderin' on what I said.

"You need me for anythin' else?" I asked, moving my hand real slow away from my belly thinkin' it was high time I was on my way 'fore Mort noticed the sweat breakin' out across my forehead. I knew I probably wasn't lookin' real sharp, neither. It was getting awful hard to concentrate on anything but the throbbing ache in my hand.

"No, I think we've just about covered everything. Reckon there'll be some reward money comin' to you for bringing the Morgans in. I'll start getting the word out and let you know when the bank draft comes through."

"Thanks, Mort." I headed to the door.

"I'll walk you out, gotta go check on Clem anyway. Get some paperwork filled out."

"Sure." I opened the door and stepped out onto the boardwalk.

"Harper!"

I spun at the sound of my name, drawing my gun at the same time, 'cept my fingers wouldn't work and all I got for my effort was a feeling like a red hot knife slicing through my knuckles. My iron bounced across the sidewalk, landing between the forefeet of my horse. He danced sideways, ears pulled back and the whites of his eyes showing. He don't like surprises.

"What's going on?" Mort was right on my heels, gun in hand and frowning when he saw me bent double, my left hand clutching my right.

"Jess?" Mort asked, shifting his eyes between me and the man standin' nearby.

"You still say you ain't no backshooter, Harper?" I recognized him as one of Deevy's henchmen, his iron was still holstered. Guess he wasn't out to kill me just yet. Reckon he didn't have the guts to do his own dirty work anyways.

"That'll be enough of that. What do you want, Tip?" Mort asked, "You come to turn in your friend again? I ain't payin' you, just in case you got ideas of askin'." Mort glanced quickly in my direction, before walking over to where the man was standing. "You got something to say, you say it to me. Else you can just be on your way," Mort said, returning his iron to its holster.

"I just come back from the Undertakers, Sheriff. Al Morgan's got a bullet in his back. Seems to me Harper here's makin' a habit of gunnin' a man down when he ain't lookin.'"

"Why you... " I took a step forward, wanting to get at him and tear his head clean off his shoulders but I knew full well I wasn't in any kinda shape to be swattin' a fly let alone takin' on that slimy weasel standin' there soundin' off. But dadgum, I sure wanted to try.

"Now just hold your horses there, Jess." Mort put a hand out blockin' me from getting at Tip and poundin' his face into the dirt.

"That's a cute kid you got living out at the ranch, Harper. Him and that lady housekeeper, real nice family."

"Whatta you sayin'?" I tried to push past Mort but he was having none of it. I didn't care, 'cause right then, I was seein' red and not much else. I reached out to Mort with my good hand, grabbing him by the shoulder with every intention of gettin' at Tip and slammin' him against a wall to find out just what he was meanin'.

"Let me at him, Mort! You heard what he said…"

"Jess!"

Mort shoved me backwards and my foot slipped off the edge of the boardwalk, only the hitching rail catching me across my chest stopped me from sprawling onto the road.

"Now you control yourself, Jess!" Mort was aimin' a look at me that said I'd be the one warming a bunk in a jail cell if I wasn't careful.

Breathing heavy with the need to take down that low life, I pulled myself up, stumbling back onto the boardwalk and clutchin' my hand tight against my body.

Tip smiled that smarmy smile of his. "Just passin' the time of day. Hate to see any harm done 'cause you can't control that killin' urge of yours, Harper."

He wasn't saying nothin' to make me wanna calm down none. "Mort! Listen to him."

"Now, Jess, take it easy." Mort spared a quick look at me then turned back to the man in front of him. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a crowd startin' to gather in the street.

"You want to tell me what you mean by that, Tip? Am I right in thinking you're making threats against the Sherman ranch?"

"No, Sheriff, just saying Harper here needs to be careful. He ain't too popular in this town."

"Mort, let me at him. Just give me 30 seconds alone with him and I'll nail his mouth shut with his own teeth." I made another go at getting around Mort but he held his arm out across my chest.

"I suggest you get out of here, Tip, before I forget I'm the law and let Harper here do what he wants."

Tip held both his hands up, "I ain't meaning any harm, Sheriff, but I'm bettin' Deevy ain't going to be so forgiving."

"If Deevy's got a problem with the way things are then I'll be more than happy to set him straight. You see him, Tip, you tell him to come speak to me." Mort lowered his arm expectin' me to hold my ground. I did, but my teeth were grindin' together with a need to take that sidewinder down.

"Sure Sheriff, I'll do that." Tip seemed to take what was said on board. Throwing a sly grin my way and restin' them weasel eyes on me a beat too long for my liking, he turned and headed back down the street.

Mort's shoulders relaxed and I heard him let out a quick sharp breath. He fastened the hammer thong then turned to face me. But I was looking at the small group of folks gathered to watch the excitement. Jim Weston was one of them, and he was still wearing a look on his face that told me he was itching to get somethin' off his chest.

"Howdy, Jim," I said, giving him an opening to say what was on his mind.

Ignoring me, he turned to Mort. "That true, Sheriff? What Tip said? Has Al Morgan got a bullet in his back?"

"Now, Jim. Jess here told me how it happened and I've got no reason to doubt him. So why don't you just…"

"No, Mort." I said, edgin' in front of him so I could get a good look at Weston. "Why don't you let him say what's on his mind? How about it, Jim? You got somethin' to say… here I am. Why don't ya say it to my face?"

Jim Weston stood in front of me but his eyes weren't meetin' mine. There seemed to be somethin' mighty interestin' on the ground at his feet and that's what he was fixin' his gaze on. Suddenly, he wasn't so mouthy.

"Well?" I asked. Then lookin' around at the other faces in the crowd, some I knew and others strangers… "What about the rest of you? Y'all got something you wanna get off your chest?"

No one said a word. They was awful quiet… standin' there… passin' judgement… but not one of them had the back bone to come right out and say what they were thinkin'.

"All right folks... I think we've had enough excitement for one morning." Mort said. "Why don't you all go on about your business and leave me to deal with the Morgans."

Reluctantly, the crowd started to move away. Some glancing back at me with a look I couldn't quite read. Wasn't sure if they were believin' I was yella or havin' second thoughts. Either way, it wasn't a good feelin'. Jim Weston was the last to leave, and he went without sayin' a word. But I wasn't convinced he'd gotten over whatever was eatin' him.

Continued in chapter four.