Chapter Ten

He stopped underneath the sign and looked up. Rather large, with blue, red and yellow paint over even bigger lettering spread from top to bottom, its overall appearance was rather garish. But that was exactly the point of whoever designed it, especially since the entire right side of the sign bore a scantily clad woman, rising even higher in the sky than the sign itself. Her hand holding a wooden cutout of a frothy mug, she was inviting everyone within viewing distance to come inside for a swig of the same kind of brew.

Even with it looming high over his head, Jess turned toward another sign, this one less noticeable, yet the smaller print boasting "Room and Board" had its own kind of invitation to wave in Jess' direction. He was tired, but with the sun not set long enough to take the light out of the sky, a couple of glasses just might suit him better than a mattress and pillow could.

His fingers searching inside of his pocket, Jess pulled out the little that remained. Having enough for both, at least Jess didn't have to choose one over the other. Giving the small amount a clank in his palm, Jess looked over the rest of the town's signs. The stage depot next door to the saloon, it was easy for his eyes to stop there and give it a longing glance.

He definitely didn't have enough for any kind of ticket.

The coins in his hand feeling even smaller, Jess returned his eyes to the stack to give them a second count. Even if he left the front step of the saloon behind him and took the cheapest room the boarding house offered, Jess wouldn't be able to get any further. This right here was as far as Jess could wander. Unless he wanted to scrounge for everything the rest of his life, Jess would have to get a job.

But who's gonna take on a cripple?

Nothing had happened to him during his time away from the Dark's that pushed Jess back into silence. Since all he could perform was a whisper, and only a horse to listen anyway, Jess hadn't wanted to put strain on his vocal chords. As he had discovered being stuck behind a silent wall, there was nothing wrong with keeping the inside of his mind at work with words. An employer might not share the same idea, though.

Jess' mind made a hard repeat. But who's gonna take on a cripple?

Finished with looking over the storefronts, Jess drifted his gaze to the name that he had read the most. Sheridan. Even if it wasn't the lack of money making him stop at the northern town, this could be the best place to land after all. It was far from Laramie and home, yet not so far that he wasn't out of the territory. While Jess would have said all of his lines to the Sherman ranch were severed, his core knew better. Staying within the region would keep that connection alive.

That is, if I can get a job, drop a single root down. That sorta thing.

A boisterous shout behind him turned Jess back to the saloon's batwings. While the last of his coins would have felt better reserved for something needed, at the moment, the taste of whiskey felt rather needed. It was related to food after all. Sort of. Close enough to call it, especially since June's stash had run out. Pushing the double doors aside, Jess stepped into the clusters of men to find an empty hole along the bar.

There was one, far down at the end, but there was also a man in his way to get there.

Jess knew him, and the inside of his chest lurched so hard that he thought it was going to pull something more than a whisper out of his throat. Dadgummit! How'd he find me?

Closing his eyes, Jess gave his head a hard enough shake that the dizziness long thought past made a return. Lashes still lowered, Jess gave his eyelids a hard rub and then peeled one open. While the name had been poised like a hot coal on Jess' tongue, it would never get spit past his teeth. It wasn't Slim.

Tall, slender, blonde, add a large dose of longing in Jess' veins, and there was excuse enough for mistaking the man at the bar for his partner. He still knew the man, though, making Jess debate turning around and leaving the saloon behind him.

Except that I could really use a job, and running away from everyone ain't gonna give it to me.

Digging into his being to put on some of that old Harper determination, Jess stepped forward and took the place next to the tall, slender and blonde man. "Whiskey."

The raspy tone sounding like the original form was stuck behind lock and key, the man couldn't help but stare at the bearded fellow next to him. And in that stare something next to his eye twitched. There was something odd in that sensation, for he couldn't define what was now making him tilt his head so that he could get a better look, a longer look as the man put the firewater up to his lips.

Downing the glass in one swig, Jess ignored the burning wince and as sensing the neighboring stare was easier than guzzling a second shot, he turned toward the man. "You're Luke Kerrigan."

The beer glass in his hand was given a spin against the counter. "Yeah. Do I know you?"

"My name's Rex Helfer."

Luke Kerrigan's head bent another inch his way. "Huh. The name isn't, but you look a little familiar."

"Could be that I am."

"Where are you from?"

"Anywhere."

"A precise location might help."

"Texas."

Luke shook his head. "Never been there. Try again."

"I've been in Wyoming a few years."

"Drifting?"

"Ranching."

The clue making his neck itch, Luke gave the entire length around his collar a rub. "What'd you say your name was again?"

"Rex Helfer."

The familiarity being stopped with the quiet snap off the opposite tongue, Luke shook his head. "What's the matter with your voice?"

"It was damaged in a fight."

Something about the way Helfer quietly accented the last word of his reply, Luke narrowed his eyes to sharpen his scrutiny. "Yours or someone else's?"

"Someone else. If I woulda started the fight, I guarantee I woulda finished it."

Luke almost laughed, but somehow knowing better, he shook his head instead. "I don't know how you can do it."

"Do what?"

"Bite so hard with only a whisper to your voice."

Jess gave a simple shrug. "Just who I am."

"And that is?"

"I already told you. Rex Helfer."

The beer mug back to his mouth to hide the doubt, Luke poured the remainder down his throat. "Uh-huh."

"All right, I'll give you a little tease. If I said I was someone that you owed a good turn for, would you oblige?"

"Depends on who it is. But maybe it depends more on what he wants."

"I need a job."

"What can you do?"

"Most anything. I already said I know ranching."

Luke's eyes made another dart to the left hip. If the iron was positioned on the other side, he would swear that the man's original name came out of Laramie. Changing his glance to the man's face, Luke tried to shave the beard off with his imagination. It wasn't easy. It had to be a week to ten days worth of growth, untrimmed, unkempt. But even with the dark hair hugging the jaw, Luke thought the hardness underneath was something that he personally knew. But if he really was Rex Helfer, Luke didn't know him.

Glass back to his mouth, Luke frowned at the speck of foam at the bottom. Somehow he had polished the rest and didn't even remember its taste. His thirst not yet abated, Luke motioned for the bartender.

"Give me a refill, will you, Sherm?" Eyes going wide, Luke's fingers snapped. "That's it!"

Jess' left hand flashing outward, he grabbed Luke by the collar. "No! It ain't it!"

"What's the matter with you, Har…"

"The name's Helfer. Remember that. But since you think you know so much, do I got the job?"

"I'll have to run it by my brothers first, but if you are who I think you are, I'd imagine you'll have the job."

"Thanks."

Luke didn't have to run it far past his brothers before Jess had the job, especially when the two other Kerrigans didn't have to scratch their memories very hard to remember what they had to make up for. Hunting for Matt Grundy with such a personal grudge on their shoulders, every meeting between Kerrigan and Harper had been rough. The first time had been their bullets flying at the house, and then the more personal way coming when Jess had been on the opposite side of their enraged fists. They did owe him something. While buying a steak and some booze to float home on might have sufficed, the Kerrigans were willing to offer more, and it went all the way to an agreeing handshake.

"All right, Harper," said Clay, the oldest of the three. "You have the job, but will it set you in a foul mood if we ask why?"

"My pockets are empty."

"What about what was filling them at the Sherman ranch?"

"I left it there."

"Why?"

"That's my business, not yours."

"Sherman kick you out?"

"No. I left of my own will. Dadgum."

"What now?"

"I shoulda said no questions. If a man owes you one, and you said you'd make that fist pounding you gave me something to make up for, I'd think that'd be it."

Clay shook his head. "Sorry, Harper. Can't help being curious. Or maybe I should've said, cautious."

"It ain't Harper. It's Helfer. Rex Helfer. And that's something I wanna make clear right here and now. My name's Rex Helfer. Anything about me you knew before is gone, understand?"

Clay looked at his brothers before landing his hard gaze on Jess' beard, the undeniable mask he wore. "You in trouble?"

"Listen to my voice, take a look at my hand, and you'll have your answer."

"What if we don't want to take that on?"

"You already said I got that job didn't you? Well, then. You already have."

Sighing, Clay turned to the brother that brought him home. "What do you think, Luke?"

"I say we give him a chance."

"All right. Amos?"

"Ditto."

"And if that trouble shows up?"

Luke shrugged. "We said we owed him one."

"We did," answered Clay, taking Jess' left hand in his for a second time. "Welcome to the Kerrigan Ranch, Helfer. You'll have a bunk for as long as you need it to be."

The smile wasn't very deep inside of Jess' cheek as he walked into the bunkhouse to choose where to drop his gear, but he felt the drawn up edge nevertheless. With the promise of regular pay and a place to lay his head at night, he was settled, for now. But he doubted it would be forever. Nothing in his life ever was.

.:.

It was a small ranch in comparison to the Sherman boundary lines, but even with three men above him doing the hardest, heaviest and longest chores there was still work for Jess to do. It helped that among the act of repayment, they felt sorry for him. But as it turned out, the gift of pity was more gift than pity.

The very first day on the job, Clay nodded toward the corral full of mounts. "Think you can get them all brushed, fed and bedded before dark?"

"I can do all that and more."

"Then every horse is under your belt, Helfer. I know you'll treat them well."

Jess did, and enjoyed it, but there was more to it than just tending to the Kerrigan horses. All animals were under Jess' care. The dozen hens and their crowing old man were soon chasing Jess' boots for something more than regular feed to peck. The dog being glad for the extra attention barked in circles with a happy wag to his tail. The milk cow was responding to Jess' sweet talk and providing enough squirts in the pail to make butter with. Even the ornery barn cat that hissed at every shadow was bending his head toward Jess' hand for an ear rub within a week.

Sure it was tamer than everything Jess had done before, but at least this kind of life suited him. He enjoyed caring for those that needed it most, even if there wasn't anyone there to care for him in return. While June's tender fussing had been appreciated, Jess didn't want any of the Kerrigans to push too far into his personal territory. Having them cast sympathetic glances when he favored his right hand, having them nod in his direction and pretend to not be whispering his name when he entered a room was enough. Too much enough. Wanting all of that behind his back as much as possible, Jess put up his own boundary lines, keeping to the bunkhouse during the hours he wasn't earning his pay. But that also suited Jess finer than anything else.

This quiet life of a loner was already proving to be good for him. While Jess would never dismiss the threat to his life, he found contentment there. As he worked, it was a relief to not be constantly looking over his shoulder, to wonder if there was something lurking inside every shadow. Maybe it was because he finally shook those that were after him. Jess certainly didn't feel their nagging presence anymore. But even with that feeling to carry alongside his left hip, Jess certainly wasn't going to go out of his way to know if they were out there.

If he had read the number right on the calendar when he arrived, Jess had been there ten days. And in all that time, Jess hadn't stepped off of the Kerrigan ranch. There could be one brief mention, when Jess rode his horse away from the south gate to dip two noses into the cool stream. But when he stood, wiping the extra drips from his beard, Jess wouldn't give a longing look in the same direction, especially since Laramie sat that way. He merely hopped back into leather and turned his mount toward his new ground.

It wouldn't be a normal life if Jess wasn't tempted to stray. More than once he had been offered to ride along when one of the brothers were headed in for mail or for something more exciting. The latter was the reason this evening. He had a sense something was up when Clay called it quits early. It became even more obvious when the large tub was pulled from the outside pump and lugged indoors. With a cause to be getting cleaned up beyond a hand rub, Jess figured there must have been a girl involved. Three skirts to be exact.

That was all Jess needed to prop both feet onto his bunk, and in dropping his boots onto the floor with a double clunk, it meant he wasn't getting back up until morning. Yet despite unbuttoning his shirt to where the faded undershirt could show through, still there would be the knock on his door and a grease-slicked head poking through the opening.

He barely looked up to know that Luke was the one coming to call. "Yeah?"

"We're going into Sheridan for a dance. You wanna come?"

Dance? That being a hard no, Jess shook his head.

"Lotta pretty girls in Sheridan we can meet you up with."

"Ain't interested."

"Come on, Helfer. Ain't it time you see what the outside of the ranch looks like?"

"I know what it looks like. I've been there, remember?"

Luke shrugged. "Well, you don't gotta dance if that's what's holding you up. Ain't there nothing in town that interests you?"

He would be lying if he said no to this. Looking down at his faded, torn and bloodstained shirt, Jess hooked his left thumb into the largest hole. This he could definitely use. While Clay had let him have an extra of his, with it not being Jess' favored blue, he had left the rust-colored fabric folded in a drawer. There was another thing. The Kerrigans didn't regularly dip into anything hotter than coffee. Jess hadn't tasted whiskey since arriving.

But what was a shirt and a small glass up to his lips? Not enough compared to finding a willing suitor standing on Sheridan's main street ready to get a look at Jess' gun hand. Even Jess' left could get a long stare. He hadn't practiced the left handed draw since taking a piece of his scalp off. If he tried now, the knothole in the far wall would likely not grow bigger, but would have a matching set. Knowing that the wait for his answer was stretching out for too long by the thrum of Luke's boot, Jess finally shook his head.

"It's up to you, Helfer. But you don't know what you'll be missing."

He knew, all right. Jess had danced before, and with the right kind of girl to wrap an arm around, he had enjoyed it. But that wouldn't be the same story now. He couldn't dance with one hand, couldn't talk to a lady with a mere whisper. But no lady would cast a flirtatious glance at him anyway. Jess was no stranger to his appearance, as he saw his face in the mirror every morning. With his hair long and his beard growing longer every day, he was starting to look like a forgotten miner. If he was old enough to have a few speckled grays among the brown, then the part would really be right.

"Oh well. What do I need a gal for anyway? I've got a bunk, a blanket and a horse in the barn and if my luck holds out, I'll be sitting astride come morning light, something those dadgummed Kerrigans ain't likely to be after partying and twirling into the dark."

The smirk on Jess' face at dawn proved that he was right. With at least two different toned snores floating from the upstairs window, Jess got into the saddle right after he dropped a cup of coffee into his stomach. Already having his day planned out, Jess didn't have to wait to get started. It was strange, though, that was what Jess ended up doing. Most of the day he was stuck waiting.

Leaning against a fencepost, Jess heard the rider's approach and touched the handle of his gun. There was no reason to pull it. Just Amos Kerrigan coming to check on him. Or the cow. Either way, Jess was going to have to welcome the presence.

A snort coming through his nose at his dismount, Amos tossed a point in Jess' direction. "You're out here loafing? I thought you were supposed to be looking for strays."

"I am," Jess answered, nodding toward the Hereford, lying on her side with a distinct grunt rolling through her open mouth. "And I found one, too."

Frowning, Amos watched the protruding belly pinch with a contraction. "I wondered if I should've checked on her last night after coming in from the dance. I knew she was close to being due. She in trouble, Helfer?"

Raising his left hand, Jess caught Amos by the chest, stopping him from taking another step. "No. Just taking her time."

"And how much time is that?"

Jess looked toward the sun lazily moving past the noon mark. "An hour."

"That's too long. She should've calved by now."

"Some cows don't like to be watched."

"But you're watching her."

"Gotta. It's the only way to know if anything's wrong."

"And is there?"

"No. Just taking her time."

"I don't like this." Amos shook his head as the cow made a similar jerk with hers. "There's no vet in Sheridan."

"Don't need one. She ain't in trouble."

"How can you tell?"

"It ain't like I've never watched a birth before."

Hand in an open and closed pinch, Amos finished the gesture by slapping his thigh. "If it wasn't Matilda then I'd..."

"What's special about Matilda? Ain't they all got your brand on their hips?"

"I bottle raised her when Matilda's mama became wolf bait. She's more pet than livestock. This doesn't feel right, Helfer."

"Feels fine to me."

He shook his head, hard, like the hooves that were about to pound the ground. "I'm riding for Clay and Luke."

"Suit yourself," Jess hoarsely whispered after him. "You'll probably miss the delivery, though. Whattya wanna bet on? Bull or heifer?"

It was a heifer that made an entry within ten minutes of Amos riding out. Seeing the shiny sack start to protrude, Jess crept closer to make certain his words to Amos had been truth. Matilda might have given her version of a cuss as Jess stood within feet of the delivery room, but since she was in no position to shoo him off, Jess kneeled down directly behind the working area. The fluid letting go, Jess watched as the front hooves parted way for the little nose to do the same, the perfect position. When the shoulders passed, there was no doubt that the babe would come the rest of the way all right. Having the kind of strength that God only gave to mothers, Matilda gave one last push and Jess had a wriggling bundle at his feet.

"I'll be dadgummed. Ain't you the prettiest little thing?"

Matilda was up with a bellow, but while she gave Jess an irritated glance, the cleaning process had her full attention. There was no need to butt heads with a man when she had a newborn to tend. While he had been horned both front and backside by a protective mother before, Jess was secretly glad that Matilda wasn't backing him up further, but Jess was also holding onto another secret. Giving a look over his shoulder, Jess smiled at the empty stretch of road. No Kerrigan was in sight.

Jess could have found fun watching a barroom brawl, could have clapped his hands while a lovely senorita swirled her skirt to the beat of her castanets, he could have even given a happy whoop while hanging recklessly off of a bucking bronc. But none of those things had a healing balm attached. Jess needed this moment, alone, witnessing the miracle of birth. Maybe it was because Jess was still hoping for a miracle of his own.

Suddenly stunned by the memory alongside Ma Poole's grave, Jess looked at his crippled hand. Didn't the reverend say something about calves, how they get to jump right up into life, while some other miracles needed time? Was this some kind of sign? While everything came out all right in the end, it was true that Matilda took longer than normal to bring her calf into the light. Couldn't that truth be told someday for him?

"What do I gotta wait for, though, forever? Besides, what does a preacher know about calving? About as much as I know about preaching, that's what."

It must have been something in his voice that made both cow and calf look at him. It was also in that look that made Jess forget his trouble all over again. Animals were amazing, and this calf was no different. Wiggling around on the ground, her legs were already trying to push underneath the chest to find the right oomph to get off the ground. Being slick with fluid, it was never an instant rise, but the calf fought through every attempt. It was only natural that she should eventually win.

Standing, her legs quivered with both excitement and fear. Strange, Jess knew exactly how the little thing felt. One step going forward, the other sliding so far she almost went down, the calf could have merely stood still. But she wasn't giving up, not when she had a mission to accomplish. The cow doing her part in licking the right area to get the skinny legs to move, the calf stumbled forward. Sniffing, searching, yearning, she spun.

"Wrong end, little one. Turn back around and you'll find it."

Except the calf didn't know how to understand a whispered southern accent. Her white-tipped tail in a wag, she pushed and butted against the cow's front leg, making frustration show in both mom and calf. But not in Jess. Smiling, Jess watched the calf struggle, but while there was humor in this view, Jess wouldn't let the baby flounder for long. While nature almost always knew how to take its own course, some newborns needed extra encouragement, and since he was there, Jess might as well offer.

First pushing out a sigh, Jess looked at his right hand. While the fingers of his left felt large and clumsy compared to June's delicate touch, he had continued to massage the tissues around the scar. He still couldn't give an answer if any healing had begun. Stretching out his fingers until he could no longer contain the pain, Jess' groan forced his hand still. Well, not quite. It was shaking all on its own. Like the calf's legs.

Wishing he could forget how hard he trembled, Jess stared at the calf's quiver. "You're gonna get stronger, though. I ain't."

Knowing he couldn't give the calf a taste of his crippled hand, Jess dropped his arm back down to his side. Yet seeing the begging eyes, the spongy nose sniffing for the desired taste, Jess couldn't ignore this plea. Holding out his left hand, Jess dropped his index and middle finger inside the calf's mouth. The sucking was instantaneous. Being devoured by a greedy gulp, Jess led the little lady to the udder. The smacking getting louder and louder against his fingers, Jess gave a gentle shove on the rump to get her positioned and then switched his fingers for the pink pump handle.

The calf latching, she gave several long drafts into her mouth before giving a spin. Tongue out and dripping foam, the calf wobbled to where Jess stood and reached for his fingers.

"Now, now. You know where the real stuff is. Turn around and try again."

Unsatisfied, the baby grabbed the closest thing to her nose and pulled.

"Dadgum, that's my knee! Well, if you're gonna be stubborn about it," Jess said, taking his left hand and the crook of his right arm to turn the calf around. "Here. That's where the real flavor comes from. Keep to it and you'll be fat and sassy in no time."

The calf reattached to milk's warmest flow, Jess stepped back to allow mother and baby bonding time. But he wouldn't go too far. In a way Jess was still being nursed, by the new life that was no longer frail, but already taking a happy leap into this world.

"At least it won't be full of roughnecks like it's been for me. As long as you stay away from wolves and the like."

Jess did hear the approaching riders, but he didn't cast them much of a glance, nor did he walk toward his grazing mount to ride off to a new chore. There was still work for him to do here. Once the little belly was full, Matilda and baby would need to be led to the safety of the barn for the night. He would hover outside throughout the dark if he had to. After all, the animals were in Jess' care.

Whether that was why the Kerrigan brothers held back at their dismount, Jess didn't know. But he was fine with not being bothered by them, even if Jess was about to be the center of their conversation. He didn't have to hear it, and wouldn't. The brothers chose to converse in the same quiet tone that was stuck inside of Jess' throat.

Amos gave his head a shake. "Well, what do you know? He said I'd miss it if I rode off. He was right."

"Never thought I'd see something like that," said Clay, propping both hands onto his hips. "Harper playing nursemaid to a cow."

"It's kinda cute, though."

Amos snorted through his tease. "Harper or the calf?"

"All babies are cute, Amos. Aw, look at the calf right now, latching onto Harper's jeans like that. But maybe you're right about Harper. Take a look at him, too. He's grinning from ear to ear." A small tickle worked itself out of Luke's mouth with a laugh. "He's either mellowed out by something, or always been soft at heart."

"I think it's both, Luke."

"Either way, he's sure making a difference around here. It's quieter, sweeter, or something alike. I enjoy having him around."

"Me too," answered Clay. "I only wish he'd let loose a little. With the animals, like we're watching now, he's open, free even. But that's as far as it goes. It's plain that he's still got that iron wall built all the way around him."

Amos pulled his gaze away from the far scenery to look at his oldest brother. "Is it because of the trouble that's chasing after him?"

"Could be," Luke said, shoulders lifted to shrug. "I've got no sense of it being around, though. I've asked the sheriff to keep a close eye out for strangers every day. You suppose if we tell him that, he'll ease up?"

Clay's shoulders performed a similar lift. "Don't know. But I have a thought. I know he hasn't been here long enough to gain a cash bonus, but I'd like to give him a day off. Tomorrow. What do you think, Luke?"

"I doubt he'll take the offer. The way he keeps to the bunkhouse, it's for sure he's not going to want to go to town."

Amos gave a point in Jess' direction. "He sure didn't wanna go to the dance last night."

"Well, maybe if I tell him its payday he'll think differently."

"But Clay, we told him we weren't going to fan the bills in front of him until the end of the month. He's been here, what, ten or eleven days? Payday is still twenty days out."

"I know. But something happens to a man when he gets gold dropped into his lap. I'd like to try it, anything to help Harper get out of his shell. After all, we do owe him something."

.:.

It was the money in his pocket that did it. The bulge of bills felt so good that Jess yearned to put it to use. It wouldn't take long for Jess to decide what to pull out some dollar signs for first. His one blue shirt had remained on his back for most of his days since busting loose from the hospital. That was enough reason right there to shop for something new. A close second was what he was currently wearing. Since Jess wouldn't even button his stained and torn work shirt for the eyes of Sheridan to see, he entered the mercantile wearing Clay's hand-me-down red. He felt like a Christmas present, or worse, a perfectly wrapped Valentine. Shaking his head, Jess thumbed through the shirts, searching for the blue that he preferred. But there was nothing light, one too bright, anything just right? Finally finding something that suited him, Jess pulled out a shade closer to midnight.

It would do. He was a different man, after all. Darker, harder even, Jess figured the new color would fit him well.

Paying for two of the same shirt, Jess left the mercantile to tie the package to his saddle. Part of him said he should just buy and go, but the enticement of whiskey was sizzling too hard on the tip of his tongue to ignore. He would later wish he had shaken the sensation loose.

Before he turned toward the batwings, Jess looked across the street and immediately lowered his head, staring at the red fabric that made up his loosely buttoned shirt. He was suddenly grateful he looked like a Christmas present, or worse, a perfectly wrapped Valentine. Right now Jess needed every way possible to look like a different man. The gun hugging his left hip was good evidence of that, his beard, too. His hat was the only thing on of his past. Since he had been sweating, his hair was a greasy mop underneath the black rim, but then again, it wasn't black at all. Dusty from work, even dustier from his ride in, it was also stained with the salt that depicted his hard work. Surely that was enough to help hide his name, conceal who he really was.

While the hard pounding inside of his chest might have spoken of Jess' worst enemy coming to call, he wasn't ducking an outlaw. The man across the street was an old friend. It was Mose.

His hand tugging his hat down, Jess forced another shadow over his face and left all thoughts of whiskey behind him. Walking toward his mount, Jess immediately stopped, the mistake so close his spine tingled worse than when a gunman was on his tail. If he put his backside into Traveler's saddle, that would be as obvious if Jess was parading down Sheridan's street wearing his regular blue shirt, clean shaven and waving his crippled hand for all to see.

Trying to swallow away his anxiety, Jess turned back toward the saloon. It would have been out of his character to not flick his eyes in Mose's direction, to know if he was being followed by Mose's scrutiny. He was. The older man's head tilting to the side, Jess watched the confusion float over Mose's face and then dig into every crevice of his skin.

Ducking into the saloon, Jess put his back against the wall and stared over the far edge of the batwings. If Mose was still standing there scratching his chin then Jess would have known it was no use to carry his charade any further. But the old man's legs were in motion, walking toward the stage depot. It should be over, it would be if Mose asked anyone about him. Sheridan didn't know where Jess Harper was, but there had to be someone that could offer Rex Helfer's whereabouts.

Not able to drop a coin down for a measly slosh of whiskey, Jess kept his position near the doors, watching for opportunity to escape. He wouldn't have to wait long, and as it would turn out, Jess wouldn't need to flee. Mose wasn't there on a stopover run, but getting into the driver's seat. Reins in his hand, Mose must have suffered through one more tickle and looked his way. With the shadows too deep to see his hidden frame, the team ready to go, the wheels ready to roll, Mose couldn't watch any longer. The loud command coming through his lips to encourage all four to giddy-up, the coach gave a jarring jerk and began to roll.

His hands parting the batwings, Jess slowly walked across the street to the depot's barred window. "Where's that stage headed for?"

"Laramie."

A nod his simple reply, Jess stepped into the street. Watching as the trail of dust disappeared, a long sigh pushed past his lips. All of this time he told himself that Laramie was behind him. Everything about his life before the day he was injured was over. Even his name was buried somewhere on the trail between home and Rock Springs. Seeing Mose made him afraid, just of something different than what made him run away in the first place. He was afraid of recognition. But the true reality of his emotions was quite clear. Jess had never been more homesick in his life.