Chapter Six

"Say, Rip. You see the newspaper?"

The razor in his hand paused halfway down his foamy cheek. "What's the matter, am I in the headlines?"

"No, but an old friend is."

"Read it to me, will you, Bisbee? I'm busy."

The man's throat being cleared, he held the Laramie Gazette in front of his face. "Jess Harper sent to Denver for recovery, leaves before…"

Razor cast to the ground, Rip grabbed the newspaper from Bisbee's clasp. "Jess Harper? That's impossible. He should've died! He had to have died after what I did to him."

"That's his name and picture."

"I can see."

Not waiting for his boss to finish every line, Bisbee gave the shortest version of the story. "I read through to the end, Rip. He's alive, all right. According to the article, his friend Sherman sent him off to the hospital down in Denver."

"Getting him all patched and pretty again, huh?"

"Sounds like it."

Not reading beyond the picture of Jess Harper, dressed in his Sunday best, Rip looked over the top sheet to Bisbee's face. "Does it say when he's coming back?"

"That's what the article is really about. It's not telling the folks in Laramie that he went to Denver, but that he's left Denver."

"Straight to a happy homecoming, I'd bet. Sherman's probably already got the corks popped and the glasses poured."

"Could be, Rip."

"You know, since Harper ain't dead after all, he could cause me some grief. The kind with a dangling rope or long term bars."

"I was thinking that myself, Rip. All of us could share it with you, too."

"Well then, I'd imagine we need to do something about that," Rip said, his gaze following the lines of the hills to where the town of Laramie sat. "It might be kinda fun to join in on Harper's welcome home party. In fact, I'd imagine it'll be quite the blast."

"You want me to tell the others to mount up?"

"When's that version of the Gazette dated?"

"This morning, a regular special addition. Painter snagged it off that passing cowboy."

Rip's eyes glistened with evil delight. "You mean the one that suddenly passed away?"

"That very one. Well, Rip, what's your pleasure? We can be in Laramie in a couple of hours, the Sherman relay, a few after."

His eyes still fastened to what lay ahead of him, Rip shook his head. "Let's wait awhile yet, or however long I figure it'll take a man to travel from Denver to Laramie."

.:.

Slim's boots in a perpetual thump against the floor, the hard knot of his hand performed a similar tap against his thigh as he paced. "I know I shouldn't be angry, Mort, but I am."

"At the gazette for printing the story so soon or at Jess for busting the hospital doors wide open?"

Slim's eyes flitted to the newspaper lying on Mort's desk. It would be easy to say that Waldo stepped over the boundary line when he stopped the presses last night to move the story about Jimmy Foster proposing to Eliza Waters under Saturday's full moon to an inner page and put Jess leaving Denver early in bold letters across the front. But Slim knew why his chest felt like exploding.

"I wish I could say otherwise, but it's Jess."

"You're free to let it out here, Slim," said Mort, watching the back and forth movements of his friend. "A sheriff's badge broadens the shoulders, you know."

"Thanks, although I feel like I haven't been doing anything but let it out. The telegram burned enough, but it was Daisy's tears that really turned me red."

"She took the news hard, huh?"

"Very. All of us did. Mike's so upset he went into his room and didn't come out for supper. He even refused the slice of pie that Daisy especially whipped up cream to decorate it with. But then again, I didn't touch any either."

"It's understandable to feel this way, Slim. Sure, Jess has been fighting every battle that hell has to offer, but the rest of you have been through your own version of fire and flood."

"I think that's just it. After everything I went through to get him to the hospital, how I've worked my tail-end off to build up the cash I need to pay for his care, how Daisy's cried, how Mike's been miserable and that I've hardly slept these past two weeks. And what does Jess do? He leaves without a word to anyone."

"He could still show up in Laramie."

"I don't think so. Once Jess starts running, and I believe that's what he's doing, then it's nearly impossible to find him."

"But you're going to look for him?"

Slim finally stopped the attack against the floorboards. "I have to. It's Jess."

"You leaving tomorrow?" Mort asked, waiting for the bob of Slim's head. "Who'll take over for you at the relay?"

"Bill Bates."

"Good man to have around. A hard worker, a friend, plus he's thick enough around the chest to intimidate troublemakers."

"That's the way I looked at it," Slim said, slowly resuming his pace, but not coming near the previous pound. "He's quite fond of Daisy's cooking, too, so there's never much to persuading Bill to watch things for awhile."

"Are you going to start looking for him in Denver?"

"My telegram will start in Denver, but I don't expect Jess to be there anymore. I'd imagine the day he left the hospital, so he left Denver behind."

"How can Jess take off without a horse? Jess has done a lot of things, but a horse thief he'll never be."

"He doesn't have to thieve one, Mort. I left a folded fifty in his pocket. I figured Jess would want to put some of his own money on the hospital bill. Of course he doesn't know it came off of my name at the bank and not his, but I left a note that it was his to do whatever he needed it for. I'm sure I know exactly what he spent it on, too."

"A bay like Traveler?"

"No. Just a good mount that'll give him miles without any fight."

Seeing the switch in directions of Slim's feet, Mort stood and followed his friend to the door. "So if the tracks you're making aren't starting across the border, where will you head?"

"I figure the first place to start is in the high country."

"Because you think Jess will avoid all the main roads."

Slim nodded. "He'll be avoiding everything, Mort, including everyone, even me."

"I think you're wrong on that last part, Slim. Jess won't purposely run away from you. You're too close of partners."

"Maybe. But I'll have to come across his path to know for sure," Slim said, taking up the reins of his horse. "I better get going."

Mort clasped his friend's hand tight before giving a parting wave. "I sure hope you find him."

"Me too, Mort. But I think my biggest hope is that it won't take the rest of my life to do."

.:.

Slim didn't know how many miles he had gone. There was no way to know how many more miles were left to cross. It felt as he had been everywhere, but in that vast span that stretched beyond his current vision, Jess was nowhere.

He was discouraged. Of course Slim could have stamped that emotion over his being the morning he put the north corner of Sherman property behind him, but now, four days past that beginning mark, Slim's shoulders couldn't lift out of their droop.

He wondered how Daisy and Mike were holding up. On that early sunrise when he pulled each into his arms, there were no promises offered to them. There hadn't even been a vow spoken for only Slim's ears to hear.

Canteen up to his lips, Slim gave the remnants a shake and then turned toward the closest trickle. He would have to fill up, both mount and canteen, before he let the afternoon get much brighter. Cave creek serving that very purpose, Slim looked up while his canteen drank from the pool. Eyes searching, Slim found the dark mouth that belonged in the hills. He had already thought that Jess could be holed in a cave somewhere. So far every one he had checked was unoccupied. But Slim couldn't pass by this cave without giving it a thorough search, not when he was so close.

But it would be like all of the others. Except for a few startled bats fluttering in willy-nilly fashion at his entry, the cave was empty.

Defeat brought the anguished tones straight out of his lips. "Oh, Jess. Where are you?"

He never expected an answer. While it wasn't Jess' silent voice coming from the darkest shadows behind him, Slim hurried to the cave's opening. The sound was hooves, performing in multiple sets over the rocky bluff that dipped down to where cave creek turned into a tumbling falls.

Feeling a strange sense that he shouldn't be seen by any in the group, Slim reached for the dangling reins and tugged his horse deeper into the cave. While the earth's hole would keep Slim concealed, from where he stood, the riders hadn't left his sight. There were five of them. It was too far to see details, but by the sudden chill that prickled every inch of his skin, Slim knew who he was looking at. There was one known name, anyway, the leader of them all.

Rip. It had to be. The vengefulness that set up camp inside of Slim's core the day of Jess' beating leapt to life, taking his hands to the edge of the saddle where his rifle sat. The iron's sights up to Slim's eye, he teased the trigger with his finger. He wouldn't get to pull it. At least not yet. The group of riders had just disappeared behind a crop of boulders. Shoving the rifle back into the scabbard, Slim sprang into the saddle and gave his horse a rare jab with his spurs.

Dust billowing behind him, Slim rode after the outlaw gang, his mind churning just as hard as the four legs underneath him and what he would do if he caught up. Would all of the bullets he carried be enough? Maybe the rope at his side would suffice.

With speed and hatred clouding his vision, ears and everything else important, Slim missed the warning sign. There was no recognition of the rattlesnake's taunt until the sound of his horse's scream broke through the barrier. By then it was too late to draw his gun. Slim was airborne, and with the line of jagged rocks in his path, the landing wouldn't be a soft one.

The jab into his leg should have rocked his body over in pain, but the only reaction Slim could offer was stillness. Quiet breaths all he could afford, Slim watched as the coil was released and while the forked tongue tasted Slim's scent, the cat-like eyes found a different focus. Waiting until the sound and slither were completely out of sight, Slim stood and immediately hobbled on his right leg.

Hand pressing into the flesh below his knee, Slim felt the sticky response. He was bleeding. The reason being something bigger than fangs, Slim was grateful that the damage was only from a sharp rock. He quickly looked toward the horse thirty yards away. Hopefully Alamo fared better than he.

Slim ran his hands over each leg twice before allowing the assurance to flood his being that no poison or injury had afflicted his mount. Satisfaction finally making its entry, Slim gave a loving pat to the horse's neck and then settled back in the saddle. While he wished his horse could plow across the ground like a locomotive, Slim knew he couldn't push Alamo with that kind of speed again.

But that didn't change the fact that he had to get back on Rip's trail.

Eyes returning upward, Slim encouraged his horse to climb the nearest hill. The higher he traveled, the more land was opening up below him. If his guess was anywhere accurate, Slim figured when he reached the peak's point, he would spot their outlines heading past the northern ridge on the beginning mark of the Lolo Trail. While Slim's eyes found the five distinct shapes, he had been wrong. Taking a southward cut, the men were in a straight line to the road Slim used more than any other.

The thump across his chest stole the breath out of his lungs. Rip and his deadly bunch were headed for the ranch.

Daisy!

.:.

The potatoes splitting with the touch of a fork, Daisy pulled the pot from the stove and then reached for the tool that would mash the chunks into a fluffy pile. Adding milk, butter and a hearty sprinkle of salt and pepper, Daisy whipped every lump away. She hoped she made enough. Bill Bates was proving to boast a bigger appetite than Slim and Jess combined.

Her hand went still as the moisture returned to her eyes. Hadn't she just finished crying an hour ago? The answer was yes. But Daisy had also released a torrent at sunup. There simply wasn't any easing of her tears since Jess had left the hospital, especially when it seemed that Jess did more than that. He was leaving his entire life behind.

Too many days had passed. Jess would have come home by now if that had been his plan.

A pair of tears taking the easy slide down each cheek, Daisy's fingers began to dab them away. It was the hard pound at the front door that took them both, and the tears yet to fall, and immediately dried them. Taking one step toward the door, Daisy stopped, contemplating if taking up the shotgun was necessary. There really shouldn't be anyone coming to call. While he wasn't family, Bill Bates was there at the ranch as a capable hand. He didn't have to knock. In fact, just this morning his stride in from the bunkhouse was with a loud burst of both door and voice.

"Mmm, Mrs. Cooper, the smell of that coffee pulled me right out of the bed linens. And then those biscuits! I don't need no rooster to wake me up when you're behind the stove!"

While the memory at any other time would have returned the smile to her lips, now it only stiffened her frame further. It definitely wasn't Bill on the other side of the knock. Her eyes went to the clock on the mantel. The next stagecoach wasn't due for another hour, but even if the coach was rolling in ahead of schedule, she wasn't so lost in her thoughts that she would miss the sound of incoming wheels. Not when Mose was driving. So if it wasn't Bill, not Mose, then who was left? Mort Cory? Oh, she certainly hoped so. He liked to time the meals just so and it would be like him to drop by while Slim was away.

The hopefulness putting her step in motion, Daisy hurried to the door, but along with the repeated tap against the outside frame, there was a tip of a hat poking around the curtained window. Two men?

Wiping her hands on her apron, Daisy tilted her head toward the face that immediately disappeared. "Who in the world?"

The knock not letting up, Daisy went to the door. It was when her hand circled the knob that she realized the shotgun was still resting in its corner position. But even if she had let the iron's nose make the first introduction, it likely would have been lifted from her hand. It wasn't two men on the porch, but five.

The apparent leader pushed forward. "Afternoon, Ma'am."

"Good afternoon." Daisy's eyes were fastened to the dark glare, so much like what she would imagine the devil wore, she barely watched the fingers raise to tip the hat. "How may I help you?"

"My companions and I are a little turned around, but I figured by the emblem on the barn outside that this is the Sherman Ranch."

Her head bobbed once. "It is."

"Are you Mrs. Sherman?"

The question had once made her laugh, now it chilled her clear through. "I am Mrs. Cooper. And you are…?"

"Rip." The grin went wickedly high. "I'm looking for Jess Harper."

Understanding, the instant stab of fear made the reply whip from her tongue. "He's not here."

Taking a step in, Rip leaned within an inch of her nose. "Then where is he?"

"I don't know," Daisy said, expecting the stammer of her voice, for it was definitely shaking her legs.

"Can we come in?"

"There's no reason that you should."

"Oh, I think we can find a reason or two. Smells like dinnertime. I assume we've just been invited."

"Now, see here!"

"That's exactly what I aim to do, Mrs. Cooper," said Rip, stepping past her to point at each wall. "See here, see there, I'm seeing just about everywhere. Now I see the dining table. And since we're about to sit at it, we'd be obliged if you'd fill us up. The sooner the better, if you please."

She wasn't pleased, not with any of it, but Daisy knew she couldn't stop them. As she grabbed a plate, her fingers brushed the pitcher that normally would have been full of milk. Not today, and Daisy's head bowed with relief for the reason why. Mike was visiting with Chad at the Campbell ranch. Sarah said while she and Sum picked him up that she would keep him well past dinner. Bless her, because the piece of Daisy's heart that had Mike attached didn't have to quiver in fear.

But the part that held onto Jess did. Whatever do they want him for?

"Today, Lady!"

Two plates now full, Daisy turned to see the face of the man that had produced the most recent demand. He was fatter than the first. Bearded too, but not in a tidy way. Dark scruff that could have belonged on a bear's chin, spread up to where the sideburns grew. But then Daisy shook her head. Even a bear would be more kempt than that. As she set the steaming plate in front of the burly man and got a whiff, she found her description. Buffalo. Likely he had the kind of name to match.

"What are we supposed to do, Mrs. Cooper?"

She turned toward the first man, Rip, he said his name was, seated at the head of the table where Slim belonged, twirling an empty cup handle in his finger. "About?"

"Something to wash the grub down with?"

"The coffee's not hot," Daisy lied, hoping to delay the pour long enough so that Bill Bates could return from the south gate. She knew he would be due. While she worried a bullet might find his flesh, his presence alone could be enough to get these men out of the house. "And I need to fill the pitcher of cream."

"No need to go squirting on a cow's nozzle. Black is best. But hurry it up."

"I'll push it in the stove's center," she said, hurrying to stand beside the heat, but she was also in the exact position to look out the window.

Hurry, Bill, Daisy silently urged, but then the next line of words was reserved for someplace much farther than whatever ground Bill Bates might have been riding on. Praying, Daisy's hands became clasped to her middle, and while her head normally would have been bowed for such a plea, Daisy's eyes couldn't leave the trail up to the Laramie road. Surely there would be an answer about to arrive.

"Mrs. Cooper. I can hear the coffee boiling from here. Whatever you're waiting for, just stop it."

Rip's eyes too searing into her frame to ignore, Daisy fitted her hand with a thick cloth and pulled the pot from the stove. Maybe because of this she should have served him first, but Daisy was avoiding his presence, purposely giving the four others a full cup before stopping at the leading man's side.

Staring at her perfectly positioned curls, he reached up to tug a strand loose, and held on. "You don't like me, do you?"

"You've given me no reason to feel otherwise."

Pulling her hair closer to bring her face the same, he stared into her eyes. "That's fine. But there is someone that you like, isn't there?"

Daisy slapped his hand, surprised when he turned the lock free. "Whatever do you mean?"

"I want to know exactly how you fit into Jess Harper's life."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm merely a housekeeper here."

Despite his food being stuck in mid-chew, Rip's mouth hung open to laugh. "You don't expect me to believe that, Mrs. Cooper."

"You can believe whatever you choose, but I doubt you'd listen to the truth."

"You're wrong." Standing, Rip's hand whipped like lightning's most brilliant flash, pinching Daisy's chin with thumb and forefinger. "I will listen to the truth. And you're gonna tell me."

Her hand rising, Daisy clamped her fingers around the man's wrist. It was to no avail. All he did was press into her jaw tighter. "Let me go!"

"Not until you tell me what Jess Harper means to you. And lady, this here scrunching of your face in my palm is nothing. If I offer what I'm really capable of doing to a woman, you'll be lucky if you're still able to stand when I'm through. Tell me the truth!"

"He's like…" Daisy's pause angering Rip further, the free hand pressed against her abdomen, slamming her into the wall.

"Not a single lie, Mrs. Cooper. Or that boiling pot of coffee will spill all over the front of your dress."

Her nod made the tears that had merely been smarting start to fall. "He's like a son to me."

"And does he feel the same about you?"

"Rip!"

His black eyes darted away from the frightened face. "What?"

The hard steps running to the door momentarily silenced the hoof beats pounding down the hill. "Someone's coming. Sherman, I think."

Rip's hand pulled away from Daisy to ease his six-gun out of his holster. "Some people have the worst timing. Toombs, the window. Painter, the other door. McKinley, the bedroom."

Every hand being filled with an iron, Daisy clutched her hands to her chest. "Oh, please, don't!"

"Stay outta the way, Mrs. Cooper. Bisbee, keep an eye on her."

Fortunately since he was a man that never wanted to miss out on the action of gunplay, Bisbee's eye wasn't precisely trained on the woman beside him.

Picking up the closest coffee cup, Daisy flung it through the window. "Slim! Watch out!"

If he hadn't seen the group from afar, Slim wouldn't know who he was up against and would have blindly ridden into the ambush. The moment he heard the simultaneous crash and Daisy's shout, the safer plan could have been discarded. But Slim did know who was waiting for him and he leapt to the ground.

During his second roll, Slim saw the extended arms, all wearing some kind of iron. Coming to a stop behind the water trough, Slim fired on the closest. It was only when Slim heard a man's guttural cry that he should have prayed first that Daisy wasn't within range. Now offering the petition, Slim fired at the sound. This time he did more than injure a wing.

The kitchen door coming open as the man dropped, the stain of blood was the telling position that he would never rise again. The grin spreading across Slim's face was more than enough proof that Slim wanted this. He had even dreamed of meeting up with Rip and his gang, paying them back for what they had done to Jess. While he had shot one, true satisfaction couldn't spread from the glimmer of Slim's teeth to his veins. It wasn't Rip that had gone down.

Searching for the evil eyes, Slim barely made out the devil-like head behind the tall hat of another man. "Well, if that's how you want to be. I can pare you down one at a time."

The next shot taking flight, Slim watched as the glass shattered around the front door. He knew it didn't strike flesh, but that offering wasn't serving any purpose other than a clearer view of the one he did want to take a piece out of. The trigger feeling the pressure of his finger, Slim ducked at the returning blasts, and then lifting head and hand to fire off two more, Slim watched as the lead swiped a hat away.

While Slim wished that he had heard a body drop instead, the view inside, and to where Rip stood, suddenly became clearer. Slim let the next bullet soar without stopping to aim. If that was Slim's mistake in missing his enemy, he didn't have time to argue the point. Any outlaw with eyes or ears would know that Slim had used up the contents of his iron and needed a refill.

Rip apparently knew how to use both.

Stepping through the doorframe, Rip called out his next shot. "Take him, Toombs!"

Looking up, Slim saw the mighty frame barreling his way. There would be no time to slide another bullet in. He was about to get hit. Jumping flat to his belly, the bullet missed Slim's flesh. However, the man's fists would soon pummel a good portion of it.

Being hauled upright by a muscular arm, Slim bent backward with the strike against his jaw. While he might have learned the man's real name, it was still Buffalo to him. Slim owed this horned galoot something. Kicking outward, Slim's boot caught the man's thigh, pushing him far enough away that Buffalo's hand let loose of Slim's shirt.

The momentum still on Slim's side, he put his fist into the beard and reared back for another. This time Buffalo bent with the punch, making it only a glancing blow. The return was anything but. Slim thought his head must have spun a full circle, and that was only the soft hit. The next offering put Slim on the ground.

His blood mixing with the dirt underneath him, Slim spit away the dual taste and laid both hands flat against the ground. He could hear the thick man's approach, Slim could even sense Buffalo's desired action. It would be a kick in his ribs, so hard and deep that more than one rib would shatter. Except Buffalo's boot never came that close. Jumping up before the leg could swing into him, Slim thrust his arm forward, connecting the hard knot of his fist into Buffalo's stomach. If Slim hadn't backed up when he did, he might have gone over. The whoosh of air coming through the man's lips had the power of a wind gust straight out of a tornado. The next punch just as strong, Slim connected his hand with the side of Buffalo's cheek, closing his mouth, shutting his eyes.

"Catch his weak spot, Bisbee."

He barely heard the command through the heaving of his lips, but Slim was quick to understand the meaning. Throughout the fight with Buffalo, Slim had favored his right leg. It would be Bisbee's direct aim. Rifle turned so that it was coming toward him butt-first, the iron crashed into the very place that had met up with the rock.

The long scream sounded as if it was pulled straight out of Slim's boots. The long blink almost put Slim out for good, but someone else was coming. It was Rip, and he was pointing a gun between Slim's rising lashes.

"Just the way I want you," Rip said, slowly walking to Slim's side. "Down and out. Soon to be down and dead."

Suddenly a rifle's crack filled the air, but it wasn't merely the sound alone. Bullets, several in a row began raining over the outlaws. Except for the one that couldn't, the four men scrambled for their horses. Not knowing if it were merely one or a posse the size of an army regiment, Rip and his men rode away.

"I'll head after them, Slim!" Bill hollered over the stamping of hooves.

"Be careful, Bill!"

"Slim!" Daisy cried as she ran from the house, arms flailing all around like a windmill. "Slim, are you all right?"

"Yeah, Daisy," he answered, rising with the aid of a corral post. "Where's Mike?"

"Safe at the Campbell ranch, praise the Lord. Are you sure you're not hurt?"

"My teeth will probably be rattling well after midnight, but I'm fine."

She pointed to the bloody mark, the painful bend. "But your leg!"

"It's nothing, Daisy. It was already hurting before I got stomped on. What about you? Are you all right?"

"Yes."

"That bruise doesn't say so," Slim said, touching the dark colors on Daisy's face. "Which one did that to you?"

"He said his name was Rip."

Slim's fist closed so tight the knuckles crackled inside of his grip. "I should've known it'd be him."

Never having seen such hatred in Slim's eyes before, Daisy's fright quickly spread to her limbs, shaking her so hard that she had to reach a hand out to the hitching rail to steady herself. "Who were they, Slim?"

"They're the ones that hurt Jess. Or more precisely, it was Rip that shot him, Rip that stabbed him, did everything to him. It was Rip!"

"He was asking about him. Rip wanted me to tell him where Jess was. Of course I didn't know, but he wasn't satisfied with that. I'm afraid he would've… I mean, if you hadn't come…" The fearful thought too much to handle, Daisy's tears burst from her eyes.

Slim pressed her into his chest. "It's all right, Daisy. They're gone now."

"Are they really?"

"Bill went after them. He'll at least make them churn enough dust to get them out of the territory right quick."

Her eyes coming away from the trail out, Daisy leaned closer to the swelling below Slim's knee. "Sit down, Slim, and let me take a look at your leg."

"It's nothing."

"I'll make that judgment call, Slim. You just do as I say."

Nodding, Slim's backside found the porch rocking chair and then tugged the pant line upward. "Can't tell which mark's from the rattlesnake and which one is from the rifle."

"You weren't bit, were you?"

His smile turned into a grimace as Daisy's fingers slid over the gouge. "Only by a rock."

"Well, the rifle's strike was harder. But I don't feel any bones broken. Just skin. I'll wash it and bandage you up."

The knot was just being formed under Slim's knee when hoof beats brought Slim out of the chair. While every part of his body tensed for another round with the outlaws, he only needed to grab a support post, not his gun.

"Bill."

"I rode hard after them, Slim, but they were going stronger. All I could make out was the backsides of their mounts as they headed into the canyon. You two all right?"

"We're fine, Bill. Go on to Laramie and tell Mort Cory about our visitors."

"Right away, Slim!"

Catching Slim's sleeve, Daisy eased him back into the chair. "Do you think Rip will come back?"

"I don't know. Mort will send out a posse, so probably not today. But I can't say that about the future. Not when Rip still wants Jess. Not when he knows this is where he belongs."

"Even if Jess doesn't feel the same about home anymore?"

"Rip doesn't know that," Slim said, staring off into the hills above him to the place where Rip and the remaining members of his bunch likely were heading for, praying that Jess wasn't camping along the same slope.

While a preacher would tell him that prayer was the greatest thing a body could do for another, Slim suddenly felt its inadequacy. Or better worded, his heartfelt plea was now all Slim could do. Daisy being threatened by Rip's powerful hand had been too much to bear, but the threat of his probable return was even worse. While there was a distinct ache for Slim to get back in the saddle and continue his search for Jess, Slim couldn't do it. Even with a posse breathing down his neck, Rip could come back at any time. To protect her, to keep all of them safe, from this day until Rip was behind bars or dead, Slim would have to stay home. But at least he wouldn't be doing it alone. Picking up his rifle, Slim prepared it with a crack, ready to point the nose at anyone that didn't belong.

.:.

The house quiet, Slim slid out of bed, his socks barely disrupting the stillness around him as he walked into the kitchen. While it hadn't been mentioned during the peck on the cheek that was their goodnight, Daisy obviously expected Slim to get up before morning. She had left the kettle of water on the stove. Still steaming, the folded cloth he dipped felt good to his purple cheek.

Pressing the warmth deeper into his aching jaw, Slim's lashes began to tug down. He would only entertain his drowsiness for a second longer. A horse whinnying outside of the barn, the cloth fell to the floor as Slim grabbed the rifle that had been his sleeping companion and pushed it toward the door.

His only thought being Rip's return, Slim immediately prepared the iron to fire. But on the other side of his aim, was silence thicker than the blackness of night. No one was there. No one was anywhere. Had he merely nodded off, hearing the sound of a horse inside of his sleep? Unable to shrug it off, Slim stepped from the porch, taking the stretch of ground to the barn with slow, cautious strides.

Pushing the barn door only far enough for his body's entry, Slim felt for the lantern and struck a match, casting a glow around him. At first glance Slim didn't notice anything different. It wasn't until he walked toward the row of stalls that he noticed the change. While the stall wasn't empty, it wasn't Traveler standing there. Someone had swapped horses.

The frantic beating inside of Slim's chest was proof that Slim knew exactly who.

"Jess?" Rushing outside, Slim searched the ground for tracks. Just like any good renegade would do, it had been wiped clean. "Jess?"

The pain in his leg prevented a full-out bolt, yet Slim limped for the path and looked up. There wasn't a single silhouette to see, but he could feel his partner as if Jess were standing beside him. He had been there. Right there!

Running further, Slim shouted to the hilltop, begging every echo to fall around Jess wherever he was. "Jess! They're after you, Jess! Come back!"

The shout jerking her out of bed, Daisy raced to where Slim stood in nothing but a pair of longjohns and socks. "Slim! What's wrong? Are the outlaws back?"

"No," Slim answered, still looking up, still searching for even the tiniest movement. "It was Jess."

Her hands covered her gasp. "Oh, no! But how? And why?"

"He came for Traveler." Slim sighed, a mixture of his anger and sorrow. "That's all he came for. And now he's gone."

"Oh, Slim," Daisy said, the thought of Rip so close in her memory that she could see his ugly face, could feel his breath against her cheek and the trembles came even harder than when his face and breath were real. "Do you think Jess is safe from those outlaws?"

"No, Daisy. Jess isn't safe at all, from Rip, from anyone. He has to stop running to be safe, and I'm afraid that if he keeps to the wayward path that he's on, he'll never settle down again."

While Slim put a stop to his sentence there, his thought had an additional line. He wouldn't say it out loud, wouldn't be the source of another round of Daisy's tears. But looking toward the winding path that led to Jess' future anywhere and nowhere, Slim's heart made the statement complete.

He'll never know another friend. And Jess will die. Alone.