Chapter Eighteen
It was a couple of hours after darkness had pushed the last bit of light away on a moonless night in the upper northeastern part of Texas, just south of the Panhandle. A tall man quietly sneaked into the campsite, finding his way by the only light available, the dwindling campfire. He was about to reach for the coffee pot when he heard the click of a hammer being pulled back as a gun was cocked.
"Mister, you're 'bout to git your head blowed off."
The man froze. He recognized that gravelly voice. He had just heard it in a town about twenty miles back. Shoot 'n' tarnation. He had no idea he had been sneaking into Jess Harper's campsite. Dadburnit! Of all men that might be camping out in the Big Open tonight, why did he have to go and pick this one?
"I ain't never b'fore had to pay for a cup of coffee with my head, amigo."
"First time for everything." Jess remained in a one-knee-on the ground position on his blankets. "Toss your iron, mister. Left hand. Two fingers."
Slowly the man withdrew his weapon with his thumb and forefinger and carefully pitched it behind him, toward the obviously angry but cool, controlled tones of the expert gunman.
"There's some kindlin' near 'bout your right hand, mister. Up that fire, so's I can see ya better."
The stranger cautiously reached for several small branches and some clumps of grass lying in a pile and added them to the sputtering flames. The fire flared higher, bringing the man and the entire campsite into better view.
"Keep them hands high. Now, turn around slow and sit yourself down on the ground there."
The man obeyed. Now seated in the dirt and facing Jess Harper, he felt a good deal of worry. He had seen the gunfight two days ago. And he had never seen anyone draw and shoot like Harper. He was in big trouble. Best that he kept his hands high and his tongue still. He stared at the muzzle of Harper's Colt, aimed right at his nose.
"You take a mighty big risk for a cup of coffee. I ain't likely to believe that's all you're after."
"Well, maybe you don't have the same kinda friendship with them beans that I do, amigo. I ain't had any for two days. I'd do just about anything short of murder to grab me a swallow."
A slight smile tugged at the corner of Jess' mouth.
"Reckon I can understand that feelin' all right. But like I said, big risk."
"I didn't expect to disturb ya. I'm sure I didn't make a peep movin' in here. You sleep lighter than any man I ever seen. I figured to git me my satisfaction from the coffee there and leave b'fore you was ever to know I was here."
"Ya coulda just asked."
"Well, I guess I coulda. Seein' as how things are goin' right now, I reckon I shoulda. But I gotta be honest with ya, I wasn't so sure you'd be inclined to share, 'specially if I had to wake ya up to ask."
Silence. As one man sized up the other.
"What's your name, mister?"
"MacLaine. John MacLaine."
Another minute passed with Jess giving a lot of thought to the situation.
"My arms are gittin' mighty tired, amigo. And I still got a hankerin' for that coffee. I'll be glad to pay ya for some and be on my way. 'Course, I gotta be honest with ya and tell ya I only got two-bits to my name. But you can have it all."
"I'm a purty good judge of character, MacLaine. I figure you're all right." Jess eased the hammer down. "Don't make me regret this. Or you'll really regret it."
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Over the course of the next week, Jess Harper and John MacLaine rode together, and a friendship formed. As they crossed the state line into Kansas, MacLaine brought up a subject he'd been thinking about but approached carefully, not knowing how the gunman at his side would look at it.
"Jess, I gotta be honest with ya─"
"You know somethin', Mac?" Jess interrupted. "You say that a lot."
Mac laughed. "Reckon I do. But here's the honest truth… I'm gittin' mighty tired of rabbit. And tired of not havin' so much as two nickels to rub together. I, uh, I been thinkin'… See, there's a town up yonder, what's doin' real good. Growin' fast. Lots of stores… a bank…" He paused and glanced to his side at Jess.
Jess met the curious look, and MacLaine watched those deep blue eyes, wondering if there was consideration of the idea going on behind them. Finally, Jess replied, his voice deeper and sterner than Mac had ever heard it.
"No."
"Come on, you were thinkin' on it. I could tell." Mac glanced Jess' way again. "You're as tired of bein' broke as I am."
That much was true. And Jess also was tried of being kicked out of towns like the one up ahead. He was tired of being hounded by gunslingers and would-be gunslicks, like the one he had to shoot a week ago, a couple of days before he met Mac. He was fed up with being turned away from jobs he was willing to do and would be superior at. He was still on the hunt for the Bannister gang, but he wanted to work some along the way. He needed food. Traveller needed food. They both needed an occasional roof over their heads during a storm. He needed cash.
"Think some more on it, amigo. We got time."
As they rode on, Jess did think about the fact that it was good to have a friend. He liked Mac. Sheriff Parker's words came back to him about needing to find someone to watch his back. Then that warning Parker had given him also echoed in his mind.
"You're in a position to be easily drawn into a life of gunhawking and the owlhoot trail."
They arrived in Carrollton, Kansas, and it was exactly as Mac had described. Bustling with business. The two cowboys made their way into a saloon, and Jess was pleased that no lawman had approached them. Even more pleased that no one had challenged him. Maybe traveling with a friend took some scrutiny off him.
Mac traded an old watch to the bartender to get them each a beer, some scrambled eggs, bacon, and bread. They were chowing down at a table in the back where Jess hoped no one would notice him, when a voice he had heard months before reached his ear from the man seated alone at the next table.
"Well, Jess Harper, you ready to talk jobs with me yet?"
Jess turned his head to see the speaker. "Caulder, ain't it?"
"You've got a good memory." Ed Caulder picked up his beer and moved over to the table where the two young men were eating. Without an invitation, he pulled out a chair and took a seat. "Who's your friend?"
Jess made the introductions.
"MacLaine, huh? Tell me, MacLaine… Are you as handy with a gun as your friend Jess here?"
Mac grinned. "Mister Caulder, there ain't nobody as handy with a gun as my friend Jess here."
Caulder chuckled. "From what I've seen, I just might come close to agreeing with you about that."
Jess stared into his beer mug as a muscle twitched in his jaw. He still wasn't used to hearing people talk about him like that.
"A man as good with a forty-five as you are, Harper, should consider the possibilities. A hired gun can make a mighty good living," Caulder mused, looking out of the side of his eyes at Jess.
Jess made no move. Mac kept shoveling food into his mouth, but Jess' fork lay idle on his plate, along with the appetite he had just lost.
Caulder downed a gulp of his drink. "I always say it's just a pure shame when a man lets his talent go to waste."
Jess sat like a granite statue.
Mac reached over to Jess' plate and helped himself to the last piece of bacon there.
Caulder drained his beer. "You broke enough yet, Jess?" He leaned forward, arms folded, elbows on the table and stared intently at the dark-haired young man. "Tired enough of getting all the bad parts of being a gunfighter and none of the benefits?"
At first Jess didn't reply. Then as he continued to focus on his beer, he drew a deep breath and slowly released it. His voice came low and hard, and with a good measure of resignation and sadness.
"I'm listenin'."
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Author's note:
Oh, Jess, dear Jess. What turn is your life taking now? What are you thinkin' of doin'? Thoughts, pards?