Chapter Six

Jess's fatigue began to fade as the anticipation of being with his brother and sister built, and he urged Tracker to a faster pace. After he topped the hill, he slowed again, wondering what kind of reception he'd get. He had known the Bradys all his life and been good friends with their four boys, all just a year or so apart in age. The Brady ranch was miles away from the Delaney spread where the Harpers lived, so the two families only saw each other once a month or so, but they still were considered close friends. Mr. and Mrs. Brady were good, honest people, somewhat better educated and more well off than the Harper clan. And if what Ebal said was true─that folks around here knew about his association with Dixie Howard and the reputation that had developed for him, though he wasn't trying to build it─the Bradys might not take too kindly to him suddenly showing up out of nowhere and dropping by uninvited.

Nearing the gate, Jess couldn't help but smile. The Bradys' neatly kept ranch looked just like it had when he left the Panhandle fourteen months ago. It was reassuring to see some things had not changed. Over by the main corral, a young man looked up as he rode in. Jerome. Jess recognized him as the third in age of the three boys. That would make him seventeen. That would leave the youngest, Gil, who was sixteen like Jess, plus the two oldest; Malcolm, eighteen, and Harry, nineteen. But he didn't see any of the other three brothers.

Jess rode through the gate and toward the corral, warily watching as Jerome eyed his approach. He came to a stop and was about to greet the man when Jerome cracked a huge grin and let out a whoop.

"Yee haw! Land o' Goshen, will you look who it is! Why Jess Harper, you old flea-bit dog, what are you doing here?"

Jerome quickly closed the distance between them, extending his arm toward Jess as he dismounted. A smile a mile wide stretched across Jess's face as he gratefully grasped the offered hand.

"Jer, it's sure 'nuff good to lay eyes on ya, you mangy coyote!"

Another minute of good-natured insults passed before the two friends settled into a more serious mood.

"You've probaby been to Ebal's, huh?"

"Yeah, he told me to come to your place. Said he sent Francie and Johnny over here to fetch somethin'."

A brief look of puzzlement flickered in Jerome's eyes, but he chased it away. "Well, Gil drove Ebal's buckboard out to the orchard. They went to pick some apples. Ebal sent over some cherries for trading. Come on in and say hello to Ma. She'll be glad to see you. And I'm sure she'll fix you up with a good meal."

He slapped Jess on the back and guided him toward the house. Along the way, Jess asked, "Your pa around? And Harry and Malc? Like to say howdy to all a' them too."

"Pa's gone to town for the day. And my two oldest brothers have gone to war, Jess. They signed up soon as the ruckus started last year. Ma wouldn't let me and Gil go then. Too young. But we'll both be joining real soon now. And you better watch out. Those conscriptors'll be glad to get their hands on you too."

As they made their way toward the house, Jerome stopped, grabbing Jess by the arm and halting him as well.

"Uh, buddy, you might want to take off that belt." He gestured to the holster. "Ma doesn't much hold with gunslingers coming inside."

Jess hesitated, his cheeks reddening with embarrassment and self-doubt. He didn't want to be without his gun. It had become such a part of him he felt uncomfortable without it, even vulnerable, despite the fact that he knew he was among friends. But what gave him the most pause was hearing that the Bradys had indeed heard about his reputation. And they classified him as a gunslinger. Suddenly he felt undeserving of a welcome into their home. He was about to say he'd just wait outside until his siblings got back from the orchard, when Jerome let out a huge guffaw.

"Dadburn, Harper! Don't tell me you of all folks can't take a joke these days. You always had the best funny bone of us all!" He laughed heartily again, and Jess relaxed some, allowing a hint of a brief smile to raise the right corner of his mouth.

A look of some seriousness returned for Jerome. "Later though, I do want to hear about how you're making a name with that sixgun. And Dixie Howard? Shoot, son! How the heck did you meet up with him? That's a story I want to hear!" Jerome draped an arm across Jess's shoulders and propelled him once more toward the house.

Jess still felt uncomfortable at the mention of his recent activities, self-conscious about what kind of things they had heard about him. He knew there was a lot of speculation and some stretching of the truth going around about him. Yeah, he had developed a fast draw. And it was true that riding with Dixie had put him in a a couple of gunfights─in self defense─alongside the famous man who had become his mentor and good friend. And Jess had taken down the men that had slapped leather first against him. Only wounded them, for which he was grateful. He had no interest in killing any man who wasn't a member of the Bannister gang. But he wasn't nearly as experienced as rumors were making him out to be. Maybe someday, as he kept after the Bannisters, he might be in more gunfights. He hoped so, but only against members of the gang. But he knew he needed to develop his skill and his savvy some more, and he wasn't seeking a reputation. His current mission was purely to find as many members of the Bannister gang as he could, with Frank Bannister his top priority, and exact justice for his family. And so far, he hadn't been able to track down any of them.

Jerome stopped again, just outside the kitchen door. He seemed to sense the ill-at-ease feeling his friend had and offered reassurance. "Hey, Jess, I know that if you're pulling that weapon and firing it, then it's because you got no other choice."

Jess had no intention of talking about the few times he'd been forced into using his fast draw, but he felt thankful someone showed belief in his decency. Then Jerome pushed the door open and shoved him inside.

Jess stood in the kitchen, hat in hand, as Mrs. Brady turned from the stove. He held his breath, wondering if there would be a welcome from her even a fraction as friendly as her son's. Would she consider that Jess using his gun was only because he had to? Or would she think of him as nothing more than a gunhawk, a saddletramp she wouldn't want anywhere near her home and family.

Mrs. Brady stood for a moment staring at the dark curls and the blue eyes, and Jess thought maybe she didn't recognize him. Or, worse, maybe she did know who he was and was figuring out a polite way to tell him to get back on his horse and ride out. He waited, nervously clutching and easing his hold on the brim of his hat. She remained still, watching him.

"Missus Brady… how are ya?" he forced out shyly.

Without responding, she slowly crossed the room, walking straight toward him. Jess saw her right hand start to rise, and he closed his eyes, calmly waiting in shame to take a slap across his face.

Instead, Mrs. Brady reached to place a hand tenderly on each cheek. He opened his eyes and saw the tears shining in hers.

"Oh, you dear boy," she murmured. "Welcome back."

He towered over her, and she urged his head down toward her and kissed his forehead. Then she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight.

Jess had never hugged a neighbor. But the warmth of a mother's kiss and hug had been missing from his life for more than a year, and the circumstances under which he had lost it had left him with a heart that carried a raw, open wound. He suddenly wrapped grateful arms around Mrs. Brady and hung on for dear life. He gulped a shaky breath and felt himself losing hold on his emotions, but didn't know how to extricate himself from them. Luckily, Jerome provided the out.

"Ma, you ever gonna let go of the boy, and get him something to eat?"

Mrs. Brady drew back, chuckling softly and wiping at her eyes, allowing Jess a graceful recovery.

"Of course I am. Sit yourselves down right there, the both of you. I'll bring over some stew I've got simmering."

Jess grinned as he took a seat at the table. Soon he was chowing down on the most delicious meal he had had in a year. Hearty stew full of beef, carrots, potatoes and onions. Fresh baked bread with sweet butter and honey. Great coffee with sugar and cream. And slices of both pear pie and apple pie with cheese. He savored every bite as Mrs. Brady and Jerome shared a non-stop stream of news about their family, Malcolm and Harry and the two letters that got through from their post in Mississippi, various neighbors, their herd, the way the closest town was growing, the Delaney ranch several miles away across the open range, and more. Their conversation flowed constantly, keeping Jess's ears too full of their words and his mouth too full of food to ask any questions.

He wiped his lips with the checkered napkin. "I thank ya kindly, ma'am. I swear on the Good Book, you could teach the cooks for the queen o' England how they should be makin' meals."

Standing to clear the table, Mrs. Brady laughed at the extravagant compliment. "Ever the charmer, young Jess."

He raised his head, a sincere look in his eyes as they met hers. "I ain't jus' puttin' on, ma'am. I mean it for sure and a fact."

She smiled and cupped his cheek. "I know you do. That's what makes it all the more precious to me."

She looked to her son and smiled at him too, happy to see the broad grin on Jerome's face as he understood that his friend could use all the mothering he could get.

Just then the sound of a wagon pulling up in the ranch yard drew Mrs. Brady to the window. "They're back from the orchard. I do declare, Jess, I think your sister just might faint when she sees you here. Maybe I'd better go out and prepare her for the shock."

But before the woman could move toward the front of the house, Jess had already rushed around her and through the door.