The Only Thing We Wanted for Christmas

by Roxellee

The year is 1895 when Mike's daughter asks for a Henry rifle for Christmas as did Mike in 1878. Events in their young lives determine if their wishes come true. Slim, Jess and Mike narrate the two timelines, surprises, disappointments, courage and love bind this family of strays. Daisy twists her apron often. Mort Corey and Millie have cameos (and Original Characters).

1

The Only Thing We Wanted for Christmas by Roxellee

Notes: This story has three parts. Each part is posted complete. References and credits are listed at the end of each part. For those of you who use chapters as a stopping point please use the change of POV as such. Sheriff Mort Corey and Millie have cameos.

This story is told in first person, mainly by Slim, Jess, and Mike, taking turns. The change of POV appears before the narrative displaying the first name, if there is a change of location and/or date this will be noted. I invite comments that offer constructive criticism.

The story spans twenty-five years and divided into two time lines, one in 1878 and the other in 1895. I created a chart to reference years, ages and life events. I uploaded this chart as a trial to determine if the chart will post. The chart formatting wasn't accepted, instead the data was listed in a super long column.

The following provides reference points:

1870; Jess 24, Slim 26, Andy 14 / 1872; Mike 6, Daisy 59 (3rd Season episodes 1 & 2, they arrived at the ranch.)

1884, Andy is 28 & a M.D./ Mike is 18 / Mattie is 1 / Daisy is 73 / 1889, Daisy at 78 passes away

1895 Mattie is 12.

Part 1 Summary - The morning stage is overdue, the Carmichael Crew, has been reported riding northward from Colorado. The maraudering outlaws' tenet is 'no witness remain standing." The Tolliver Relay Station & Inn or, the Sherman Stage Stop may be the Crew's next target. The Sherman men are preparing for a siege. Jess is riding to the Tollivers's to defend Sue and Bud. During this time Mike's daughter, Mattie, is proclaiming she wants her own rifle for Christmas.

July 14, 1895 - Sherman Ranch, Laramie

Mike

The east bound stage to Laramie is late, real late. It was due at nine this morning, and it is now pushing noon. It was scheduled for an overnight layover at the Tolliver Stage Station and Inn, then it would head out early this morning to our ranch. This would be a brief stop to drop off various letters, wanted posters, flyers, and supply packages. Our outgoing mail would be taken and dropped off at the Laramie post office. The inbound stage was to arrive at Laramie by noon.

When the stage did not show at midmorning, the worrying started as we believed necessity stops shouldn't make the stage this late unless someone became sick or injured.

We stared at the highest point of the crest where the turn off to our ranch was located. We strained to hear or see the stage rolling on it. The drive should have been a straight shot down the hillside leading directly into the ranch yard, but, the rock-strewn hillside made that impossible. Slim's Pa chose a different way by finding a stretch of land on the hillside that was free of boulders.

Mike – Reminisces, 1872

Shortly after I arrived, Slim encouraged me to explore the ranch and its grounds near the yard and ask questions. I remember when I was exploring behind the barn and stables up on the hill where Sassy, the donkey liked to nap. She always favored leaning against the Sherman Relay Station and Ranch sign. I petted her head as I passed by her, climbing higher up on the rocky clay embankment. I watched a stage roll along the hill's crest to the east, and it passed the ranch turnoff. Slim told me, 'It's the one we will be attending.' But why did it drive away? I was curious. About twenty minutes later it returned, on the same road. Did the driver miss the driveway? Then I couldn't see where it went because pine trees hid the Laramie Road from our view. There wasn't a long wait, and I saw it come down the hill, passing by Sassy, rolling into the yard.

I found Jess working in the barn at the forge making horse shoes. Since Slim encouraged questions, I asked Jess a heap of them that he patiently answered as he worked. My last question made Jess stop working to think, or as Slim says burn wood. I watched for smoke coming out of his ears. I must have stumped him good as he had no answer forthcoming, so I repeated it.

"Jess, why ain't the road coming straight down from the hill top? Why was the coach going away from the ranch and then it came back on the same road and came down that hill?" I pointed to the downhill curved driveway that brought stages to our doorstep. "The driver went back and forth too much. That's as crazy as a Mexican jumping bean."

Jess took a deep breath, then looked me straight in the eyes. "I see you is serious about knowing."

I kept my eyes on his and confirmed with a large nod followed with, "Yeppers."

"Um, well it's on account of the land, uh, um… Gee, I don't think I can't get my splainin to make sense. Slim can tell ya better than me."

I imitated Jess's stubborn stance and refused to step out of his way. "Slim told me he ain't got time now. Aunt Daisy said, 'Jack and Jill rode their wagon up the hill to fetch a pail of milk, the wagon hit a rock and tumbled all the way down.' She was baking when I asked her and she gave me some cookies, here's an oatmeal one. What a dumb answer, Jack and Jill is a story. Gee. She doesn't know anything about roads. Do you know why?"

"Mike, I see ya got a stubborn on, it's better ta show ya. Wanna, take a ride with me? Wait five minutes, huh? I got ta put these tools back, it's Slim's rules."

Jess set the thongs down next to the hammer on a ledge by the anvil, then removed the leather apron that he wore and hung it on a peg. I helped him saddle Traveller. I got my foot into one stirrup anxious to leave so we could search for the answer.

"Mike, step down. Now take the reins gently, think if ya was him and getting a hard tug to yer mouth. He's my friend and willin to be yurn's if ya treat him like a friend." Jess hopped up seating himself and scooted forward. "OK, I have cleared the stirrup now up with you."

Jess pulled me upward and I swung on behind him. I enjoyed riding with him, but this time he will be showing me a mystery. We didn't go far and went straight up the hillside to the crest of the hill. He had to ride around trees and huge rocks. We climbed slowly so Traveller would not trip. Then we stopped on the Laramie Road that was at the top of the crest, the place where the stage appeared to drive away toward Laramie. Jess told me to look down at what was below us. I looked at the buildings and yard. Aunt Daisy was hanging the wash, she looked up and waved.

"Tiger this is what I first saw when I came across this ranch. I wondered what Slim's Pa was thinking when he built the road. Now follow my hand ta where I point as I splain. Look straight down, this is steep and anything with wheels will pick up speed quickly and it might go too fast and crash inta the house or barn."

I comprehended what Jess pointed out. I wondered why I was being given a school lesson.

"What did ya see other than the steep hill?"

I shrugged unsure of what answer he was looking for, "Uh, trees, shrubs, tall grass, Sassy, the barn and Aunt Daisy hanging the wash." My answer sounded like a question.

"And?"

"Rocks, many huge rocks um, called…"

"Boulders," Jess helped me with the word. Tiger, would ya want ta ride in a wagon speeding down this hill knowin that it could crash inta a boulder or have ta drive around 'em constantly?"

"No, Sir."

"The man driving the coach didn't want ta either. There is one thing you missed. So, we have ta ride eastward ta see it clearly. See'in will explain why the stage appeared ta pass the turnoff, better than me talkin about it."

"What, would be a safer way ta get down, if you drove a wagon or stage, and flyin don't count unless ya growed wings? Let's ride out and see the answer fer yerself. Tell me what ya notice as we ride along."

"Hey, there's a road below this one. I couldn't see it from where I stood next to Sassy. There ain't no boulders anywhere close to this road so the stage can drive straight." Jess, continued on this road until it went into a 'U" shaped curved.

Jess explained that this is a switchback. This curve was made because boulders blocked the forward travel. We entered the switchback and followed the curve. "Jess, we are on the same road, it took this curve and turned west. Wow, it sure fooled me. It looked like the stage passed by our ranch on the Laramie Road.

"Mike, have ya noticed we are gradually headed down, we are nearin the bottom of the hill. Up ahead is the last leg of this road that drops down steeply. Slim's Pa couldn't do anything to reduce the steepness of its grade. At least there ain't any rocks on it." Jess pointed out.

The road led us to a bend that had a high embankment on one side. We rode on it and I touched the rocky wall. A mile later, the embankment became lower. "Jess, I recognize it, Sassy was napping here earlier. It now made sense to me after I viewed the roadway from the hilltop. Jess was silent, letting me sort it out. "Slim's father had the stages travel on the clear long stretch of land to avoid the boulders. The long way down the hill was less steep than what we rode up to the crest. It's too bad wagons and stagecoaches must go that far away to come back. But it is the safer way!"

"Yer getting it, Tiger. What else?"

"There's theat woods, it was hiding the road's lower half. The stage looked like it magically appeared on the curve leading to the driveway into the ranch." We looked up at the tall pines.

"Right ya are. It's the way you view something, so look at something from another angle and it changes." Jess said, "Read this sign." It was large with big block letters set on a post roadside.

WARNING – SLOW DOWN ON CURVE

ONE MILE TO DOWN HILL GRADE

"Did Slim post that?"

"Nope his Pa did, but Slim maintains it. I know what yer next question is, do any drivers not slow down? A few yahoos didn't and lost control going down and crashed."

We continued, and once again Jess stopped Traveller at another large curve before the last slope to the ranch yard. "This curve allows drivers enough time ta slow down ta take this next hill. Did ya solve yer mystery?"

"Yep." I felt proud of myself that I figured it out.

Jess turned in the saddle and he was wearing that big smile when something made him very happy. He knocked my hat off and ruffled my hair. My hat slipped and was stopped from falling by its stampede string. Jess is a good teacher he shows, then splains helping me to cypher the answer to a problem.

I watched the coaches roll down the drive and I rode in the buckboard many times and we coast into the ranch. I climbed up on it this morning and it didn't seem that steep. Jess walked his horse to the edge of the drop, and I looked at it. Sitting high up on his horse it is scary. Jess told me that if I viewed something at a different position it looks different. I wouldn't admit it to Jess, but I was sort of scart. I pretended that I was Brave Sheriff Mort Corey, 'cause he feared nothing, and so I wouldn't be fear this biggety old hill.

"Wanna ride this down?"

"I guess."

"Ok. Ya holds on with both hands ta my belt as tight as ya kin. Tap yer hat on tight. Ready?" Then Jess turned us, and guided his horse a mile back just past the curve. "Here we go. Giddy-up Trav!" Jess nudged his horse with his knees.

"Yee Haaaaa, we're flying boy!" Jess was waving his hat over his head with one hand, letting loose a Rebel yell. Traveller obliged and galloped to the hill, without hesitating, he galloped downward. I felt his powerful muscles working. We became eagles chasing the clouds.

The galloping continued onward on the straight-a-way, past Aunt Daisy and the ranch house taking the turn to the side of the house to the outgoing road. I was exhilarated, laughing and clenching Jess's belt for dear life. He reached back to check if I was sitting in the saddle. Oh, what a thrill it was, the wind was whipping against us.

Then Jess whoa'd Traveller to a gradual stop. He turned his horse and dropped me off at the front porch. Aunt Daisy's disapproving look faded and she stopped twisting her apron seeing that I was still in one piece.

"Was it fun Mike?" she asked. I nodded to her and tipped my hat. I could not shuck the smile from my face all day.

I felt like I was flying! I don't think I ever went so fast in my life. That was a memory, one that I will always cherish..

July 14, 1895 - Sherman Ranch

Mike

With crossed fingers I strained my ears to hear the stage approaching. Last seen the stage was entering the road where the copse of pines hid our view. I knew the stage should be on the section of road before the curve leading to the downward grade to our yard.

Whinnies from the corral stole my attention. The four up horse team wore leather harnesses, they went from stomping their hooves then began impatiently milling about in the corral's enclosure, sensing something was off.

Two weeks earlier Slim, Jess and I were standing at the bar in the Stockman's Saloon cooling off with a pitcher of cold beer on this sweltering July afternoon. We came in to get relief from the glaring sun in the darkened interior. Most of the chatter was subdued with an occasional burst of laughter. No one had the energy to play cards. The player piano was silent. There was only one barmaid sitting near the corner next to the stacked beer barrows at the back wall, looking bored as hell. She listlessly fanned herself with a pleated poster hand fan. Although her eyes set upon us, she managed a weak smile. We were resting our forearms on the oak bar absorbing its coolness.

A group of stagecoach drivers from another section of Wyoming was seated at a nearby table, their indistinguishable talk drifted to our ears. It was the same forgettable conversation heard in all saloons, mostly about women, bragging about a night with a soft warm body, or crabbing about a slave driving wife. Stagecoach driving drifted into their talk. Whether it was a good day or a bad one, horses and equipment were not a problem, but those passengers were. The topics were what Jess, Slim and I also kibitzed about, except Slim and I, never had a reason to harp about our wives.

They stopped talking when Cal brought the fifth pitcher of beer to their table and he took away the empty pitchers. I could see them polish off that pitcher with the first round. Their talk picked up where it left off. We heard words that triggered our eavesdropping; "Stagecoaches . . . When would the next strike happen? ... Many ongoing rashes of highway robberies… South Dakota... Colorado... All over the West... Bet that gang is the culprits that's how I hear it Yep... Sure, 'nuff they is murderous sons of... Deserve hanging... Those snakes... No witnesses ya say?... None, so they got no evidence to arrest them... Come again who ya say?... The Carmichael Crew who else?... Bastards," The men's four distinct voices could be heard.

The man called Rick hacked, then spit on hearing the gang's name. "Themz donst deserve a trial jest hang zem high." Rick opined slurring his words that guzzling beer fostered. Slim discreetly looked at those drivers then turned back to us, "Why hasn't our supervisor informed our division? They should have, as I attended two meetings in Cheyenne this past month."

After Slim questioned why he wasn't advised by management, I turned away from the bar with the intention to join those drivers to get some particulars on the robberies. Slim recognized two of the men, Rick was one, and Dixon the other. Slim grabbed my arm and shook his head not to. I turned around and looked at Slim then shrugged and went back to holding up the bar.

"…and we drive fearing daily, that they may bushwhack us. My pay ain't lasting through the month anymore, maybes I oughts ta joinz that Carknuckle, hell, what-cha-ma-call em." Rick's tongue was wagging, although not sufficiently loud but enough for us to hear everything.

The other drivers added their gripes discretely.

"Let's change the topic, Rick. You're threading on company rules." Another driver spoke and nervously looked around.

Slim whispered, "That's Dixon."

Rick took offense to the warning. "Dixon, no one tells meez to shutz up. It's the trooths you polecats. Ya'll like a woman complain, complain... Jest like sitting ducks waitin for the Crew to bushwhack ya, but ya don't do nothsin. We deserve pay like themz pinkercops make, for the chance we might be killed. I may quitz this job, join that Crew and come away rich and buy the damn Overland Smotherland Stage Line. I bet ja that old flocker, Butterfeel ain't thinkin on us, whiles he countz his millions." He threw coins on their table with a challenge, "Anyone wanna bet we get held up?" He projected his belligerent voice so that the entire saloon heard.

"Come on boys lets high tail it, before we get reported to the company." The least tanked man encouraged then, I noticed he gave us a quick look.

"Hey everyonez! Rick stood and swayed steadying himself by latching onto his chair back, "Ya'll are yella fearing the What-cha-ma-cal-em Crew." Rick's voice boomed. Jess was grinning.

"Hey you, wearing that ten-dollar Stetson on a five-cent head, whatcha laughin at? I betz yer mamma will be changin yer diapers when the Crew shows up." Rick threw out his insult, pointing at Jess.

The patrons hurried to a wall when Jess moved to stand. His right-hand was hovering over his gun.

"Jess don't, he's drunk, ease down." Slim hissed pushing Jess back into his chair.

"Jess, Mort is making his rounds and looked in." I warned.

The drivers stood up, dropping coins on the table and gave us looks as they passed by us to the batwing doors. Rick stopped by the bar on his way out to threaten Jess. "Thiz ain't over purdy boy!"

Sheriff Corey pressed his hand against Rick's chest, stopping his advancement through the bat wing doors. "You are drunk Mister, I strongly encourage you to sleep it off at the hotel, or ride out. If you don't, I will arrest and jail your sorry hide. You will be charged with drunk and disorderly in public, $25.00 fine."

"Whadz about him? He started it."

"Wrong, I saw Jess sitting down minding his own business."

"He drew his horse, uh I mean gun, you ain't gonna arresss him?"

"Nope, and if you don't leave or sleep it off now at one of our fine hotels, I will add making threats to Jess Harper your arrest paper, that increases the fine." Deputy Bert warned.

Rick was sufficiently warned along with his cohorts, and they rode out of Laramie pronto, partly due to Mort aiming his shotgun at them.

After they vacated, Jess said, "Those boys seemed a tad uncomfortable, does ya think they knew we were listenin? I think Overland is using our relay or Tolliver's as bait. "Cause we are closest ta the Colorado border."

"I thought I smelled wood burning!" I joked, promptly receiving a punch to my shoulder from Jess. In turn Slim tugged my hat down over my face.

"Ouch, Jess, I was just teasing you. Slim, isn't there another way to trap them?"

Slim said quietly, "Mike, don't discuss this any further until we're on the road home," I nodded my head perceptively. We took a shortcut home uncertain if Rick and his cronies may be waiting to bushwhack us. On the way home we summed it up that they selected their robberies hither skitter keeping the lawmen and Pinkertons in the dark.

Slim concluded by thinking his thoughts out loud, "They are fast to clear out of the crime scene, as if they went invisible. They must have hideouts throughout the West."

"Don't underestimate the enemy that can be dangerous." Jess added. "Skipping around like a jack rabbit is what I done ta keep em law dogs guessing," He chuckled.

We rode the rest of the way home in silence. I thought Slim is right, that after the story is retold and retold enough times it becomes bigger. Parts of it could be a rumor.

Until...

July 14, 1895 – Sherman Ranch

Mike

Today, what we believed was exaggerated gossip weighed heavy on us as the tardy eight o'clock morning stage could be the newest prey of the Carmichael Crew. The 'Crew' gained notoriety early last year with their 'leave no witness alive policy' and destruction at the scenes of their crimes. They were unpredictable to where and when they targeted their next crime. I prayed the stage had only broken down or got stuck in a rut somewhere between here and the Tolliver Inn and Relay Station to the west of us.

Jess, Slim and I discussed the possibility of the Crew's involvement. Jess impatiently listened, itching to get going saying the longer we jaw, the Crew would do their dirty deeds and be headed for the mountains. Jess said he crossed paths with Mason Carmichael years ago and he was a nasty hombre. Back then Mason worked alone. He wanted Jess to partner with him.. Jess refused and told him; "I'd pair up with a rattler first, never ya." Jess refused to ride with him knowing of his cruel streak at hold-ups.

We got supplies together for Jess, placing them in the rear saddlebag. After the supplies were secured, I helped Jess saddle his mare, Chaos. Her black coat, ample mane and long tail were a sight to behold. She was fast and Jess raced her against the wind, a sight to see as rider and horse became one. Traveller was still his best friend although he passed on. Jonesy told Jess he named Chaos after himself and it should have been something more suiting to a lady. Jess said most women he knew caused chaos and it was a befitting name for her. Slim blamed his graying hair on Jess's devil may care antics. Jess can't take all the credit for his pards graying because Slim is a perpetual worrier.

Jess was preparing to ride west on the Overland route to Tolliver's stop to find the stage. Slim suggested that he follows the route indirectly so he would not be bushwhacked. Jess told his pard, don't worry, riding Chaos would leave them in her dust.

"Sue's in danger I'm riding ta Tolliver's now! The stage could'a been seized when it stopped at their station and... and they need my gun!" Jess ranted just barely able to control his rage, what he did not say out loud was what we were thinking that everyone may be slaughtered "I got to stop them bastards! If one hair on Sue's head is harmed the Carmichaels will not see the sun set tonight!" Jess vehemently declared.

"Jess hold up, I'll get some men to ride with us," Slim offered.

"What do you mean by us? I go alone!" He called over his shoulder at Slim. I followed him as he rushed to his bedroom. This was the opportunity to tell him, I was riding with him. Jess hurried to get his firearm sorted and shook his head no when I opened my mouth to speak. He quickly unbuckled his every day well-worn holster and flung it on his bed. He pivoted bumping into me and threw open his dresser drawer lifting out his supple black rig.

"Pardon me, Mike." He spoke, and quickly darted to the dining room. I was right behind him and saw him slap his holster flat down on the table.

I anticipated his next move and pushed the lid off the hidden compartment built into the fireplace stack, within laid his retired revolver. He was by my side digging in the compartment for the box of high-powered bullets, grabbed it then tossed it to me. The last object removed was his professional gun that he yanked off its silk cloth wrapping.

The silver-plated Colt with mother-of-pearl-grip is his most prized possession, except for his plain gold wedding ring now sharing the same retired status. The gun was oiled and lovingly stored in the fireplace hidden compartment when Jess accepted Slim's offer for work. He retired his piece as a commitment to end his gunfighting days. The ring was a commitment to a new life he hoped to share with his bride Janette, he was deeply in love. We, a family of strays, were happy that Jess found someone that truly loved him.

Silver and gold...shiny metals they are, but some tarnish way too soon, just as what happened to Jess's marriage. He stopped for a moment picking up his ring. His fingers closed over it. He silently whispered something and raised his sight skyward. He kissed the ring, then laid it on the wadded-up silk in the compartment. He left the room and I closed the lid on the cubbyhole.

Mattie, my oldest daughter wandered in from the outside with Twobitsy on her heels. She took a seat at the dining table to watch Jess load his pretty gun. Jess smiled at her while he deftly pressed the bullets into the loops of his holster, filling it to capacity with twenty-five high-powered bullets. He picked up his Colt pushing open its gate. Twobitsy pawed his leg. Jess took a second to reach down to pet the pup's head. We watched Mattie take two bullets from the box and roll them between her fingers.

Jess reached for a bullet to begin loading it when Mattie asked, "Uncle Jess let me." She held her hands out flat, expectantly, for him to place the revolver on them.

Jess looked to me for my permission. I shook my head no.

His focus was on the action of the hair trigger, hammer, and cylinder. Satisfied with the gun's check, he placed six bullets in the cylinder listening for the click then forwarded the cylinder to the next chamber that waited to receive the next bullet. He repeated the action until all six were seated. He slapped the cylinder into the gun frame and spun it judging the smoothness of the spin. When he finished, he looked up at my daughter and explained. "Mattie, I'd let ya, but today is not a good day. We need every minute to prepare."

"I could have helped by loading it," she said reaching for his gun.

"Uh, uh Mattie, I 'preciate your willingness ta help, but my gun has been altered that even I have ta be careful when I handle it. Ya never touches any revolver without asking yer Pa, Slim or me first, understand?"

She nodded yes.

"And what is the first thing ya' do when ya' pick up a gun?"

"I check to see if it is loaded."

"Good Girl! If it were any other day, I'd let ya. I promise ta show ya usin' my ranch gun."

"It's so pretty," running her finger over the barrel. "You already checked so why would I have to?"

"Don't matter cause the one who holds the gun is responsible, if it fires harming others, property, or yerself. That is the first rule, comprender?"

"Sí," Mattie replied. "I know the second rule is to keep my finger off the trigger."

"What else?"

"I hold the gun by its barrel when handing it to someone."

"Ya got the first parts right. The golden rule that is numeral uno for you, is ya not ta touch any revolver without an adult standin' next ta ya." There's more ta knowin before you try ta shoot."

The revolver that fascinates Mattie is the one that gives him the edge, customized for precision and speed of the draw. Jess placed it on the table at the same time a ray of sun shone in through the window. Mattie began tracing the bands of rainbow colors glowing in the natural mother of pearl grip with her finger.

"Honey take Twobitsy outside so Jess and I can make plans," I told my daughter. I dismissed her because I was nervous watching her try to pick up that gun. I wouldn't put it past Mattie or her younger sisters to play with it. Mattie viewed it as a sparkling ornament on Jess's hip. We, must be alert around the girls when we have the guns out for cleaning. My wife and I are cautious when Jess is working on this Colt and we don't like to handle it.

"Ok Dad. Come Twobitsy, come on girl." The dog managed to squeeze between the partially open door and Mattie. Then she chased after her dog letting the door slam shut. I asked Mattie to go outside as she was being a distraction by asking too many questions about his gun.

"Mattie! What'd I tell you about slamming the door?" Reena, my wife yelled to our daughter.

Jess gave a quick laugh hearing her scold, Mattie. Although Jess found that funny, I noticed his jaw twitching, an indication he was keeping his nerves under control. He appeared calm while running the final check on his gun. He was satisfied with the action knowing it will perform perfectly to his skilled hand's demand. His lapis gemstone sight ascertained that all six chambers were loaded. Jess regularly kept only five bullets in his ranch gun, resting the hammer over the empty slot to prevent an accidental firing. Today the chambered sixth bullet could make the difference between life and death.

No more debating with myself it was time for me to tell Jess I was riding to my in-law's ranch with him. When Jess' mind was set, nothing could change it. Jess intimidated me, but I had to defend Reena's folks. Mattie was outside so she wouldn't observe a likely conflict between Jess and me. I asked myself, why was it so hard to stand up to him? It was now or never.

Jess stood up to take his empty coffee cup to the kitchen.

"Jess, I'm going with you," I just got the words out when Reena stomped into the dining room. Jess was scowling at me and Reena noticed it. Her eyes questioned me on what was going on.

"Mike, I swear the next slam will have that door leaping off the frame. One of you needs to fix it. Oh hell, why am I worrying about a door when my folks could be in danger. Jess, are you almost ready to ride out?" Reena asked.

"Yeah," Jess replied to my wife and then to me, "Mike, you need ta stay here if the outlaws swing east. No argument!"

"Jess, may I use your ranch revolver if needed?" Reena asked.

Reena saw Jess holding his cup. "More coffee?" She didn't wait for his answer and quickly walked back to the kitchen so we wouldn't see her tears.

"No thanks Reena," He said, setting the cup in the sink. "My revolver is on my bed and loaded with five. I best go and get it fer ya." He called out to her from the dining room. "I don't want ta leave it there ta tempt Mattie or yer other young'uns." When Jess returned to the kitchen with his gun, he told Reena, "It's up here out of the girls' reach." We watched as he tucked it beside a sack of rice inside of a wall cabinet. "You do know where the bullets are?" She nodded affirmatively.

"It's safely stored, where you can get it quick. Please have Mattie fill and bring the bandolier outside ta me. Mike, Slim and I will be in the barn. Thanks." Jess knew she was frightened from the way she snapped at Mattie. Jess took her in his arms and hugged her. "I love you and yer girls." Then kissed her cheek.

I followed Reena and held my trembling wife tightly, "My Love I will be careful." We were all on edge and Reena projected her apprehension at the slamming door. "God willing the outlaws may not have reached your folk's ranch or they may not have entered Wyoming yet." She clutched me as if this was our last day alive. After another kiss I pulled away to catch up with my brothers. When I grabbed the door handle, I gave the door a shake making a mental note to tighten the hinge. I turned back to my wife standing where I left her and said, "I love you, everything will be all right," then I exited to the outside letting the door bang shut. My eyes were tearing up and I swiped my shirt sleeve across my face.

"Mattie, come here." She ran to me.

"Dad?"

"Go in the house and you may fill Jess's bandolier. Your Mom will help you. Just be quick about it and bring it right out to the barn, I squeezed her hand. Thanks Honey."

Jess

Mattie brought the filled bandolier to me. She wore it around her neck as heavy as it was using her hands to support its weight on her twelve-year-old frame. She was smiling, pleased that she was helping.

"I'll take that," Slim said lifting it over her head rumpling her hair. "Mattie, wouldn't you prefer wearing a pretty necklace?" Seeing her shrug, Slim offered, "Say, how would you like a turquoise stone necklace for your birthday?"

"I'd like that Uncle Slim, but only if it was made by our Chicasan (friend) Forest River. He makes his jewelry special with engraved silver leaves and flowers around the stones."

Slim smiled and smoothed down her hair. "I'll ride out when this trouble has blown over and see if… Why don't you ride with me and pick one out?" He watched her face momentarily break into a smile, then the fear for her grandparents shadowed her momentary joy. She is my brave niece, just like her mom and grandma Sue.

Mike

I girded myself, stood tall, and confidently walked to Jess and declared, "I'm riding with you!" My words came out strong.

"Mike, ease down, don't upset Mattie any more than she already is." Slim calmly told me.

"No, ya ain't!" Jess barked and probably for emphasis, he did a speedy draw with his gun. He was treating me like a child or I was reading him wrong. He most likely checked again to be sure nothing impedes the gun's exit from its holster. He holstered it throwing his icy 'no argument' stare at me, momentarily he reverted to the gunfighter that he was. I pulled my daughter close.

"They are my family! How can I look my wife in the eye if I don't try?" I raised my voice.

Mattie's face scrunched up as she fought to hold back her tears.

"Pa, Jess is right we need you here and Ma needs you, please don't go!" My heart was torn seeing tears glistening on her cheeks and hearing her soft sobs.

"Mike, what if they turn up here while I'm away." You got to be here for your daughters and Slim will need your help!" Jess adamantly stated, he tucked the gunfighter back into his past.

Jess was right in case those vermin seized our ranch, I needed to protect my daughters. Slim insisted our wives and children stay with our neighbors. Reena got her stubborn on and refused to leave insisting that she will be needed as the third gun. Brenda could not shoot the broad side of a barn and didn't argue with Slim over staying at the neighboring ranch. Their twin sons were only four and a handful to control so she willingly went to the neighbors.

Slim was a good shot but not that good to stand against gunfighters and neither was I. Jess is ruthless when it comes to protecting family, woe be to the Carmichaels. Bud and Sue could surely use his help. I concluded that staying behind would be wiser as Slim, Reena, and I could make a stand at the ranch.

Early on, I asked Jess how he got his vision tuned so sharply to see details in blurred motion. He explained that years of shooting practice and eating carrots and green veg'bles have done it. He briefly instructed that I got to clear my head and pay attention on details. 'Ya, block out the distractions and hone in on the target.' It was good advice that I ignored because I wouldn't eat anything that resembles cow cud. Truths be told now that I am a father of four, I must do as I say. I still cringe when Reena places a bowl of nasty boiled spinach on the table, but I eat it to be an example to my daughters. Aunt Daisy was right, when she once told me that the day will come when I would eat spinach and swiss chard. I was having a tantrum when she, insisted I eat two forks full. I clamped my lips shut and shook my head no. Of course, I was denied a slice of her delicious apple pie.

Jess slid a knife into his boot. He shifted his holster and tightened the leather cord around his thigh. No matter how you customized weapons, you could never undo the ugliness of their purpose. I wasn't against guns or rifles, but killing for pleasure like the Carmichaels do is heinous. I hoped Jess's ride to Sue's home would be no more than a social call. The ride to the Tolliver's Relay Station may take a little over an hour with his well-conditioned horse Chaos. Jess put his Winchester in its scabbard, and the extra bullets went into the saddle bag.

"Here." Slim held out the bullet belt, and Jess placed it over the saddle.

Jess did a final check of his gun, rifle, and ammo. "Mattie, I'll take those two bullets," and she handed them over and Jess tucked them into his pocket. "Ya been nervously rollin' them with yer fingers, no hold out all of em." She dug a third one out of her jean pocket.

"Here, sorry. Uncle Jess how did you get that good with a gun?"

"Let's save that tellin for another time. You did some fine polishing on this rig Missy. My gun slides in like greased lightnin." Jess smiled mussin her hair in an unspoken thanks, after Slim smoothed it down. Slim's frown and my chuckle made her giggle. In my daughter's eyes, Jess could do no wrong.

Jess has an innate quality that kids adore. Andy, my older "brother" was the first to become friends with him. I was six when I lost my parents by an Indian raid on the wagon train we took to Oregon. My father pushed me into the woods and told me to hide until he came for me. I caught a chill from an overnight rain as I stay hidden and waiting for my folks to get me. I waited and waited until my tummy grumbled and I set out very cautiously to search for them. I got sicker and don't recall when I was found or dropped off at this ranch.

I awoke in a bedroom being held by strong warm arms believing those were my dad's. He wasn't my dad, yet he gave me comfort. Who was this man with the worried deep blue eyes that held me close? I called out for Pa and Ma. 'Son, we don't know where they are,' he said. Later, these folks gently told me that my parents were killed in the raid. I started balling and his deep soothing voice calmed me and I trusted him. Now my daughters are caught by Jess's endearing charm. My heart clenches for Jess when he should be doting on his own son. God knows he would have been a good loving father to Lil' Jess, as he is to me, sadly Jess never got to know his son.

I tucked that sad memory away.

Mike

"Mattie, have you changed your mind about the necklace and would prefer a pearl handled six-shooter?" Slim forced a mock disappointment on his face.

"Um, no, but Uncle Slim do you think Uncle Jess could gift me a matching bracelet?"

I flashed my disapproving look at her and my daughter blushed and looked down realizing that she made a bodacious request. I was surprised that she didn't ask Jess to gift her a revolver matching the bad-boy resting on his thigh. It was rare that she would be interested in a feminine adornment, rather than saddles and spurs.

"Mattie that isn't polite." Reena and I have taught our daughters asking for things is a no no. My warning was overridden by Jess nodding yes at Slim, which she did not see.

"Sweetheart, is that a yes ta a gun or necklace? The gun might be a bit heavy around yer neck." Jess teased.

She recognized the funning in Jess's voice and rolled her eyes. She handed Jess a filled canteen.

"Thanks," he said as he wrapped its strap over the saddle horn. "I'd like ta throw in a purdy hair clasp ta make it a set," he kissed her forehead and slid his fingers through her long brunette ponytail.

She looked up at him. "Jess, I didn't… I mean I shouldn't have asked," batting her eyelashes at him.

"Don't fret young'un. It'd be my pleasure. I wish I could go with ya ta watch ya pick a necklace and bracelet that ya like."

"I want a rifle for Christmas." Matty reminded us, that a rifle was her choice for a Christmas gift.

"You know your Ma won't let you have any guns or rifles yet. You got a few more years to enjoy your childhood before you become a young lady." I didn't want to discuss it right now so I placed the blame on her mom because my daughter would not argue with her.

Jess

"I got ta be getting, I'm worried about your grandma and grandpa in their home. The sooner I can get there, um, I can get back ta let ya know that yer grand-parents…"

"Please Uncle Jess, don't get killed. I love you."

"And I love you, my Prairie Princess." Thank goodness she cut me off. I didn't want ta promise something I had no control over. Mattie locked her arms around my waist giving me the saddest look ever. My heart melted hearin these words from a child. I gently pried her arms from my waist and stooped down ta be eye ta eye with her.

Slim nudged my arm, to slide the bandolier up and onto my shoulder then gave it a hard smack in place.

"Hey!" I yelped then arranged it to sit across my chest.

"That's for good luck Pard."

"Not if ya bust my shoulder up it ain't, that won't take much doin. Ya remembers when I fell down that cliff don't ya?"

"Sorry Pard it has been a long time I forgot, but then how many times have you been throwed off bucking mustangs to land on it?"

"Too many times I reckon." I grinned while rubbing the sting out of my shoulder. "We almost lost Andy that day, and ya must be getting senilelated to forget it."

"What?"

"Uh, seniliated?" I gave another try at the pronunciation.

"I am not senile. Dang your Texan accent."

I still cannot spell or say some of 'em highfalutin words right.

"Uncle Jess, tell me how you fell off a cliff."

"I will, sometime later. Now I got ta finish preppin and be off."

I patted myself down and looked over Chaos and the saddle carrying all the necessities for a one-man battle. Satisfied that I was armed for adversity I tapped my Stetson in place and I was ready ta hop onta Chaos.

Again, Mattie threw her arms around me. I gently lifted her arms and held them as I stooped down and placed her hands on my shoulders.

"Mattie, the stage may only have a broken wheel or been rerouted due ta a section of washed-out road. I have ta go and help 'em."

"Don't go!"

I brushed the tear off her cheek with my thumb, my other arm tightened inta a hug around her.

"I don't count on running into trouble, I'm ready if it finds me. Stop worrying yer purdy head, just think about yer birthday, and the turquoise stone necklace and bracelet ya be wearin. I have a hankerin ta watch ya pick out the turquoise, iffen Slim here will allow me ta come along."

The Arapaho village, is a day's ride out where Forest River, the silver craftsman lives. The village is nestled in the Green River Mountain foothills. We are always welcome to visit Chief Diamo and Winema of the Arapaho. We secured a lasting peace with his tribe when Daisy insisted his wife give birth in her bed and not in the barn. Before they sought shelter in our barn the other ranchers cruelly chased them off. They named their son Enapay, meaning 'appeared bravely' as it took courage ta be born in a white man's home. Aunt Daisy midwifed at the doctor's side and Diamo named her as his son's God Mother.

Mattie enjoyed playing running games with the village children. When we sit around the campfire listening ta the elders, we become engrossed by the legends they tell at night beside the camp fire. Mattie and I learned the stories of the stars and how ta navigate by them.

"Mattie, the outlaws will most likely ride where they won't be seen through central Wyoming, as I did. Ranches are scattered miles apart until only trappers or Indians may be spotted. The sidewinders will follow game trails up in the mountains and travel on the Lolo Trail. I took it a few times and ya don't see any two-legged critters in the mountains. It's Big Sky country, there fer enjoyin all the way inta Canada. Keep an eye on yer sisters."

I was fired up determined ta ride out alone ta locate the morning stage and nothing would stop me. Mike and Mattie are straining their eyes, tryin ta spot the stage ta spare me the trip.

Slim held Chaos's reins, before he handed them over, he said, "Jess be careful."

"Always."

We shook hands.

Sheriff Mort Carey, July 14, 1895 – Laramie to Sherman Ranch

This morning I intended to tackle the paperwork that I procrastinated on completing. The in-basket was over flowing and I stuffed the overflow in my top drawer. Dangum, I hate completing reports and reading through legal nonsense. Don't let the mayor hear me complain cause next year will be election time. What if I wasn't re-elected? I sighed, I am nearing retirement and perhaps it would be for the better?

I polished off my third coffee just in time. Otherwise, my shirt would be wearing it. At the same moment that I set the empty cup down on the pile of neglected reports, Patrick, the Laramie telegraph clerk burst into my office startling me.

"Morning Pat, what got the fire started in your pants?"

Sheriff Corey, sorry, morning Sir. He handed me a telegram. "It's urgent!" He breathlessly spoke then followed it with a long pause for the urgency to grab my attention. "Marshall Bennet in Denver sent it," He puffed, from running to my office. "The telegraph just ticked out this message… it's awfully important. The Carmichaels were sighted! I hear they are ruthless. It's here," he pointed to the sentence on the yellow paper, "They were sighted in Colorado two weeks ago riding north. They are coming!" He exclaimed.

"Son, hand the paper over while you catch your breath, I will read it, may I offer you coffee?" I sighed, and was going to tell him I can read. This was his first job as a telegraph clerk and this message holding danger was probably exciting to a young fellow."

"No thanks, I must get back to work Sir. Sheriff Corey, do you want to send a reply?"

"Nope." Good, I thought if he's this excited, a cup of coffee may make him giddy as if a stick of dynamite went off in his britches.

"Will you have a shoot-out with them?" His hands took on the shape of pistols and he pointed them at me. "Draw Sheriff," and he made the motions of shooting. And with that drama, he exited quietly shutting my door. I chuckled and shook my head no. I prefer to dig up worms above ground, not six feet under as their dinner.

I unfolded the telegram and read the content: Carmichael Crew robbed a Pueblo Bank/stop/Five killed /Stole $18,000 mine payroll and two bags of golden eagles/stop/Two weeks past were sited near Denver riding north/Stop/Be on the lookout/End.

"Guess I should make my rounds to the ranches and warn them." I said out loud, pleased to let the reports sit. I stood and stretched the stiffness out of my sixty-four years-old body. I closed the folder on the reports. This morning's plans were bust, tomorrow's another day to tackle the papers. I tucked the telegram into my vest pocket, then wrote two notes. The first was to my deputy, I laid it on my desk stating I should be back by five. If he sees any ranchers in town to warn them, the Carmichael Crew is approaching Wyoming to be on the lookout. I selected a rifle from the rack, then tapped my hat on. I proceeded to open the door and impelled the second note on a nail in the door's exterior. I stood back to read it, "Office opens at 8:30 A.M. I am Out of Office, for help see Deputy -Sheriff Corey." I expect my deputy to be on time to read the message on my desk. I headed to the livery.

I know my horse wouldn't appreciate me saddling him this early. I gave him an apologetic pat and climbed into the saddle. He snorted his displeasure. Laramie was waking up and I nodded to the early birds on the boardwalk heading to open their businesses. My hand gave my badge a touch. It's a forty-year habit thing I do daily asking heaven for guidance and to help me keep the folks I serve safe. I'm on my way to make the rounds warning all the local ranchers to be wary of strangers on their property. Advising they could be members of the Carmichael Crew, thieves, and killers. I will strongly encourage ranchers to arm themselves up to their teeth and shoot to kill if they are engaged.

The first two ranches were warned. Next, are the Sherman Relay Station and Ranch. As I rode there, I decided to retire next year. It was time. I am weary from years sitting a saddle, posse chases, physical fights, stopping bullets, and the occasional court ordered executions. I hate writing paper reports. My wife's unspoken fear is that I could buy it on my job, those odds are increasing as each day goes by. That kid asking me if I would be in a shootout, hell no! That was the deciding factor that made my decision. No man in town has expressed interest in running for sheriff. This Carmichael business is very bad news, and I will see if Jess Harper would consider being deputized if it comes to it.

I stopped on the Laramie Road and looked down at the Sherman's ranch. They have become my family. Over the years I saw that two grow into responsible adults and they're grandparents now. Their next generation is growing, six kids it is so far. I wonder If Andy will become a family man, and Jess Harper is a great-uncle that is near unbelievable. I smiled pleased for that family of strays.

Today, I am on official business. I followed the drive down the hill to the ranch house. Busbee, my horse slid on some loose gravel. We had a short lived, turbulent thunderstorm that washed out gravel and stones down this tricky grade. Slim was busy preparing the horses for the next stage, but I didn't see Jess. "Good morning," I flatly called out.

"Morning yourself Mort," Slim grinned and walked toward me. "What's up? You don't look so good."

"Do you mean grumpy Slim? I'm on official business. Where's your better half?" I watched Slim as he glanced toward the barn his eyes became shaded with concern.

"What has he done now?"

"Well let's see," and I pulled the folded telegram from my pocket, "You're not going to like this."

"Damn it," Slim grumbled. "Jess get over here now!" Slim loudly ordered. For fun I undid the loop on my forty-five and pulled the handcuffs from my back pocket. Slim was paling.

"NOW JESS!" Slim demanded.

Jess walked briskly and stopped a dozen feet shy of me. "Good mornin, Mort?"

"Well, I got a warning for you." Jess became suspicious and was staring at the paper I waved at him and then downward at the cuffs in my left hand as I gripped my gun butt with the right. He stiffened. I guess I took it too far and came clean.

"I am making my rounds to warn all ranchers, and it is not good news."

"Like what?" Jess sniped.

"I was just kidding, having a little fun, calm down, Jess." Jess relaxed, and Slim frowned at me. "Sorry Boys, I couldn't resist,"

"What gives Mort, you haven't joked before when you're on official business?" Slim asked pushing his hat up off his forehead. Jess kept his distance with his arms crossed over his chest. I pocketed the cuffs.

"This is the first and last time for a bad joke." I said and followed Slim to the corral and leaned against the railing. Jess was leading my horse to the trough nearby to drink and petted him. Have you two heard of the Carmichael Crew?" Both nodded yes. "I got this telegram this morning warning that they are headed to Wyoming." I read it to them. They asked a few questions and I told them, " I didn't have any more than what I read. They hit a place and go into hiding until the heat dies down. Then travel to another territory to pull a crime, then wait, in other words, they don't make a predictable path or stick to regular intervals between hits."

My concern was here and now for Laramie. Right after I spoke both of their faces grew serious.

"I sense something is wrong, when I mentioned the Crew, your faces became serious."

"Mort there may be something happening at Tolliver's, the coach is late, it was due in here by nine." Slim said.

"I'm riding out shortly to check on them or, If, I'm too late… I will track the Carmichaels and I can't promise I will be gentle when I catch up with those sons of bitches." Jess voice was lethal.

My thinking echoed Jess' s that the Crew could follow the stages to Tolliver's robbing the stage station and their home and then travel to Laramie discovering Slim's ranch. They kill everyone leaving no witnesses. Murder is their pleasure sport. "Crime never ends but policing my will."

"Did you eat, care for some breakfast or a cup of coffee?" Slim offered.

"No thank you. I ate breakfast early, at Mollie's, to get this warning out to every ranch today. I got an early start so I won't be riding under the scorching sun longer than necessary."

"One more thing I need to mention… Ummm… You two are the first to know."

"Know what Mort?" Jess asked with his one eyebrow raising. "I guess that ya forgot ta load yer rifle…a sign of gettin old!" He laughed. I was relieved that he wasn't sore over my poor joke.

"You're right Jess, I am old and I plan on retiring next year and to be out of your hair," I chuckled. "I got a good idea who'd I like to see replace me." I stared at Jess.

Jess shot his hands up, "Oh no I ain't!"

"You have always been my first choice to deputize. Beside you are popular with the growing Laramie populace. I ain't giving up Jess, even if I must put you under lock-n-key until I hear a yes to be my replacement."

"I won't part with my Pard." Slim joked. That's what you meant when you said, 'first and last bad joke.'"

"Yep, you guessed right, Slim."

Jess and Slim looked at each other, they were flummoxed. "You quit Mort? We don't believe you. It's another bad joke?"

"Boys, think what you may. I got a heap more ranches to warn so I best be making tracks. If anything develops, I'll be in touch. Stay alert."

I saw Reena standing on the porch and she waved at me. I tipped my hat to her and rode up the drive. It was hard to look at Mike's wife, sometimes, because I'd impose Daisy's sweet face over hers. We knew she was aging and she could still run circles around us and we never thought of her passing. What a blow to us all. Mose loved her and took her death hard. Jess lost another mother so he couldn't cope for a spell. Daisy's death brought up an earlier dark time when Jess's wife and son died. I need to retire so Sarah and I can share our golden years together. I thought about the late stage; maybe the Crew chose to go to the Yellowstone instead of our corner of the world. I hoped and touched my badge.

Mike

Jess sat atop his horse looking toward the ridge. He was in a real hurry, but for some reason he sat immobile, as if he was doubting his decision to ride off. He cocked his head then cupped his ear to hone in on a distant sound. We also listened and were rewarded with a chorus of mechanical grinding noises growing louder. Along with Jess we waited for the source of the sound to expose itself. I mentally crossed my fingers hoping it was the late coach.

Chaos nickered when Jess slid off her back. Her timbre sounded like a question of whether they were riding or she could continue munching hay in peace. Jess stroked her neck to ease her confusion, in return he was rewarded with a nuzzle to his old shoulder injury. Jess continued his surveillance bracing for what would soon emerge from the trees.

The line of trees along the top of the crest momentarily muffled the sound. When it cleared the pines, our hearing and sight paired the rumbling to the stage. The stage snailed along after it made the switchback turn. It finally appeared riding on the return road. It stopped a good distance before the thirty-degree decline. Jimmy Swann was driving and I could hear him urging the horses to pull hard. The stage inched forward struggling to maintain a slow steady forward pace. "That's it girls keep that pace up and we make it to the house. Slow is go, and it be best fer this dee-lapidated worsh tub of a coach, going down a hill." They were at the beginning of the curve when it stopped. The horses took advantage and rested.

"Looks like trouble found us," Jess growled, reflexively his hand hovered over his revolver.

"Pa, the stage is in trouble let's go." Mattie exclaimed.

"Mattie, I will see why Jimmy was driving slowly and is now stopped, you stay put." My daughter frowned being way too eager to assist with the stage. She remembered when I told her she would be under foot and could get hurt. She didn't complain this time, her frown spoke her displeasure. She grew up on this ranch happy to be Jess and Slims' little helper, always around them and the horses learning as much as she could. I was proud of her loyalty and her understanding that safety was everyone's priority.

I made it to the top of the incline puffing from the upward jog. I saw that the front stage wheels were dragging that would force Jimmy to make a wide turn unto the downhill slope. Jimmy and I cajoled the horses to move. The horses worked hard pulling with difficulty to force a turn. Jimmy muttered some nasty words and hopped off the stage. I was by his side to find what caused the wheels to lock. Finding nothing obvious to their inability to roll, he climbed back up encouraging his horses to pull harder.

They strained to drag the stage almost completing the curve. The turn was taken wider than necessary, causing the hapless stage to scrape against the slate and clay embankment wall. Jimmy coaxed the horses to back up, and I looked for damage. There were some deep scratches on its side and the tarp covering the back was torn. I gave him the go ahead to attempt a tighter turn.

Jimmy

I tugged on the reins to make another attempt at shoring up me team into the curve. I was glad that Mike skiddled up the hill to direct me. Suddenly the wheels unlocked, the coach lurched forward into the turn. The stage tilted short of tipping on its side like a drunken sailor, and the two right wheels lifted off the ground. The stage slammed down righting itself then skiddered on loose stones, that ripped the straps out of me hands.

Mike made like a skitter bug gettin out of the way.

I had to retrieve the reins so I searched spotting a pair dragging on the ground. The horses' wake lifted and whipped them about until they fell and flew upward repeating their ups-n-downs flight. I tried to time the movements and reached out as the reins went flying. Dag-nap-it, I missed the catch. I see the other set snagged on the brake shaft outside of me box. This was me last chance to save the passengers and horses, I must grab these reins to guide the lead horses.

The coached swayed to the downhill's giddy-up pace. I steadied me against the rough jerking not wanting to be tossed out. Grasping the top of the footboard with me left hand, I leaned over the front of the stage. The straps looked closer than they were, so I stretch my arm and me fingers barely touch the leather. I needed more stretch, so I stood on me tippy-toes and leaned over as low as I dared. I fisted the straps and pulled me back into the box. The updraft lifted me hat brim and next thing I knows my goodest hat tumbles down to gets herself sucked into the pummeling hooves.

Then them wheels has to find a rut, slamming me back on to me patootie with a hard thump. If that happened a minute sooner, I woulda followed me hat into the by-and-by. I gots my eaten hand to pard with my white knuckled lefty. I clamped thems on the reins and retook control of the lead horses. I aren't ready for the angels in the least, so I jest shrugged off me brush with death, now was not the time to think of the iffens.

I knew to slow the coach down. Picking up downhill speed may lock the wheel again. I pressed on the brake lever. I hears something crackling like bacon on the spit, and I gets showered with splinters. "Dang, the brake snapped, I don't need this bunkum," I cursed.

I managed to direct the horses with Mike's help but having no brakes the stage began speeding. I ain't talking race fast but enough to tumble the stagecoach. Mike was running to keep up with me. He yelled directions to me, something about pulling did he mean the hitch pin?

Mike

The stage had to be stopped. It picked up speed traveling downhill and it was sure to plow into the house. I figured how Jimmy could stop the stage from crashing.

I yelled up to Jimmy, "Pull the hitch pin! Pull the pin out!" This feat would be dangerous as hell, Jimmy would have to climb down the front of the stage and reach for the pin head and pull it upward separating the coach from the horses. Jimmy has strong arms and hands so this shouldn't be a struggle unless the pin wasn't sufficiently greased. It's required that all stage stops check moving parts for ample greasing of parts including the pins. I hoped the pin was greased this morning. Apparently, it wasn't done. After Jimmy frees the pin, the coach should roll to a stop before it causes damage. The rattled horses should have enough sense to veer away from the buildings. Jimmy high signed me that he understood. They whizzed by me.

The stage was nearing the halfway point of the slope. How fast the horses could slow to a stop was determined by unhitching the coach. The coach pitchpoled downward. Hens and goats scattered in all directions escaping the rumbling ground. Twobitsy stood her ground next to the Sherman Stage Stop sign barking loudly at the approaching menace. At least old Sassy knew to head to higher ground, loudly bellowing, aggravated at having to leave her post as the ruckus played out.

"Nonoo!" Mattie shrieked spotting Twobitsy on the road, that she was within seconds of being trampled by the horses' hooves. "Twobitsy come here, come here girl!" Mattie pleaded. I whistled sharply for the dog to obey. I tightly held Mattie's hand to prevent her from running in the stage's path to fetch her dog. I had to half drag her as she did her damnedest to break away from me. Twobitsy continued barking, then with seconds to spare she ran to the cold cellar built into the hill.

Mattie was too busy struggling against my hold, that she did not see her dog run to safety. "Alice Matilda, you're going to the corral and stay there. Twobitsy is safe!" I released my daughter at the corral fence, "If you move one inch from here you will not get that rifle!"

I turned around in time to see Jimmy attempt the descent to pull the pin. His hand grasped the pin head and his arm muscle coiled for the pull. He tottered when the wheels rode over a rough patch of road jostling him breaking his grip on the pin and the coach's frame. His arms reeled as he panicked to grab anything that would stop his dirt dive. I saw the anguish on his face when he made it topside. His look reflected that he knew he failed, dooming passengers and horses to a horrible fate. He held tight to his seat and his mouth moved in silent prayer.

Jess stood next to Chaos not knowing that Jimmy wasn't able to release the team.

There were only minutes away until it crashed. The stage swerved back and forth precariously. Slim's long legs quickly carried him to the left front lead horse. We heard a blur of screams from the passengers.

Jess jumped onto his horse's back galloping at an angle to intercept the stage. He steered his horse alongside of the right leader, when the horses were neck to neck, he leaped to the other's back. He missed. By pure chance he latched onto the harness. He lowered himself dragging his feet, yelling, "WHOA BOYS WHOA!"

I could hear Jimmy's yelling "Have you gone loco Jess? Let go! Get your arse outta the way! Save yerself!"

Jess managed to keep his grip on the harness, he dragged his heels to slow the stage. His head disappeared from my view. My stomach lurched. I could hardly see through the billows of thick dust. I prayed Jess wasn't trampled. My prayer was answered, I was able to see a rein twist around his body spinning him to face backwards.

Slim

I ran out of the barn hearing the commotion and screams. I saw Reena and her daughters running from the house.

"Where's Mattie? She shouted to me, while she paused her frantic searching, repeatedly calling her name. "Mattie! Mattie! Where are you?!"

"Mattie's safe, she's right here. Reena, get your daughters up hill. The stage is heading for the house." Reena carried Marriann, her baby girl, and Luella clasped on to her other hand. Muriel raced in front of them as they ran upward.

Now that they were safe, I darted to the coach catching up with the left wheeler horse, throwing my weight into stopping the horses. The stage was advancing to the yard. I dug my feet into the ground feeling the horses slowing with the stage in tow. I brought the horses to a slow stop. The coach's creaking became a metal-on-metal screech then it shuddered to a stop. The lead horses stopped short of the house by a mere twenty feet.

I heard Jess yelling for help. I did not realize that he was on the other side slowing the horses. I ran to him, although the ordeal was over Jess was frozen in action. He kept a rigid grip on the leather harness. He was facing backwards, held in place tangled in a rein.

"How do you always manage to get yourself tied up? Are you hurt?" I asked and began freeing him from the harness.

"My hand is caught. My fingers might be crushed. I can't feel em."

I looked to where the horses and the coach stopped and saw a front wheel roll off its axle. The wheel spiraled around before it flopped flat like a coin.

MIKE

A man stuck his head out of a coach window to see better. The coach leaned and groaned as it jerked lower to the ground.

"Get your dang head in! It's gonna tip!" I warned him.

"Uncle Jess!" Mattie cried, running to him and I snatched up my daughter in mid-stride.

"Alice Matilda Williams, what did I tell you? I'll reckon with you later young lady! Go back to the corral now!" It was my parental instinct that drew the harsh scolding directly from my heart.

Jess' chest was heaving, he gulped air, stifling his ability to counter my reprimand of my daughter's disobedience. I glanced back to see if Mattie obeyed, she had, she returned to sit on the corral rail slumped over dejectedly.

SLIM

I gently untangled the leather from Jess's fingers, he cupped the injured hand in his right.

"My gloves saved 'em from bein' shredded." He grinned. Ya gonna get me a new pair for my birthday or put a pair in my stocking Santa Hardrock?"

He always makes light of his ills or injuries. I placed my arm across his back and walked him to a safe distance from the leaning stage. He was unsteady and needed to lean against me.

"Jess, are your legs hurt?"

"Some."

I failed to see Mattie standing nearby until I heard her gasp. She sneaked over to us from the corral fence.

"Jess is bleeding, its dripping down the back of his pant leg." Her stare was fixed on his leg. "Is he gonna bleed to death?"

My attention whipped to the back of my pard's legs watching the blood blossom in the fabric. Jess tried to clutch my arm; his numb fingers barely tighten on my shirt.

"I got to get you into the house." I faced him squarely anchoring my heels into the ground, to pull him into a back carry. My right leg went between his legs as I took his right hand with my left. Jess knew this was the start of being carried.

"Don't you dare!" He struggled free of my hold, falling to his knees groaning."

"Let's give it one more try." I glanced over to the stage to call Mike for assistance and changed my mind. Jimmy and he were working to place a the week with a jack. I did not dare to distract them. This was up to me now. "I am easing you up to stand," I had to lie to Jess because helping him has always been a fight.

"It hurts bad."

"Then don't fight me or you will cause it to bleed more, just ease down and let me help you."

I quickened my pace grabbing his right hand with my left and hoisted him onto my shoulder. Mattie kept up with my pace pressing his shoulders against my back to stop him from shifting. I kicked the door open shouting for Reena.

"Reena, Jess is hurt help me!" I placed him on my bed and began the process of lightening Jess of his rig, boots, and jeans. Reena was at my side. Mattie stood on the other side of the bed, and I didn't want her to view Jess being undressed. Mattie, you can help by boiling a pot of water. It reminded me of when Daisy told Mike, or Jonesy chased Andy off to do the same to get him away from seeing a gruesome injury or observing us being tended. This made the kids feel they were being useful.

"Don't ya dare remove my skivvies!"

I'm not going to. She rolled the leg opening upward passing the wound stopping short of his nether regions.

"Hey, that's far enough!" Jess yelled.

Reena cleaned off the grime and caked blood. She pressed a clean towel to the wound for fifteen minutes to slow the flow of blood. She lifted the towel to observe the bleeding had slowed and began debriding the wound. Jess hissed.

"How'd it happen?" Reena asked.

"A hoof kicked out and caught the side of my thigh."

Reena cleaned the wound, "Your skin is sliced but not as deep as it first appeared. I will put in stitches to keep the skin closed. All you need is a bandage wrapping and you'll be good as new. Don't put your jeans or boots on. Rest. I need to check later for swelling and if the bleeding stopped."

"No liniment!" Slim, I will shoot ya if ya get ten feet near me with that dang-gum salve.

"Would we do that to you Jess? Reena teased.

Suddenly two small faces were peering into the bedroom at us. Jess spotted them first. "Hi girls," he called out as he tried to rise to his knees. Reena pushed his short-legged underwear covered backside down, "You ain't going nowhere, settle down," and she threw a quilt over his lower half. He started complaining and attempted to sit up again.

"Jess Devlin Harper! How old are you? Do you have to be told as a two-year-old to lay down?" Reena hollered at him.

"Women!" He mumbled to me pulling the quilt up, can't make a move with them around or without, they cause total chaos."

Luella and Muriel were giggling in the doorway.

"What's so funny?" I asked, seeing my nieces find something funny, set a big smile on my face.

"Uncle Jesse called mommy Chaos! Chaos is Uncle Jesse's horsey! Mommy Chaos!" and their giggling became all out laughter.

"Go play in the dining room." Reena ordered.

"I'll be sure they are busy with their toys. Come on sweeties your dollies are lonesome." I put my hands on each girls' shoulder and guided them down the hall. They were still sing-songing their made up chant.

"Chaos, Mommy Chaos."

I had a silly image building in my imagination and I began laughing, hoping Reena would not hear me.

"How bad is Jess hurt?" I asked Reena when I returned. "Mattie is watching her sisters." I got the girls to play with their dolls once they settled down.'

His thigh is cut, serves him right for calling me Chaos." Reena keened.

"I'd douse it with TSB." Mike said, stomping into the room. "That will be payback for his sassing you."

"Thanks a lot," Jess squawked.

"TSB?" Reena queried.

"That's what I called quality bourbon, Top Shelf Burpin." Mike explained then smiled. That was during Christmas time when I was twelve."

Reena placed the last stitch and I kept Jess from squirming. "Did you drink it, Mike?"

Jess let me try it and I took a sip and did not like it. It burnt going down."

She took the bourbon bottle from the upper shelf, "Ready for the TSB?" she asked Jess whileswinging the bottle left to right.

"Just do it, will ya stop tormentin' me!" Jess moaned as the bourbon seeped into the wound."

"Now gimme your hand." She demanded pulling his gloves off to check for injuries.

"His left hand got wedged between the straps and the horse." I reported.

"I am going to prod your hand to find if any of your fingers are broken. Please do yell out if it hurts." Reena proceeded to manipulate each finger to locate a break, waiting to hear him yelp. "Make a fist." Jess did and she squeezed it. Then she squeezed his Left fist and he shouted.

"Dang it, woman, what ya pokin me for? "Whad ya' tryin' ta' do? Leave em alone, and don't ya' get any notions of smearin' Jonesy's liniment on em either!"

She took his left hand and opened it flat. "Looks like it is contused, otherwise you would have bucked so hard to get stuck on the ceiling. Don't fool yourself it is deep and will take a spell to heal. You can soak it after dinner in cool water and before you retire nightly to keep the swelling down."

"With that temper of yours, you aren't hurt all that bad." Reena commented. "Jess please lay back for a spell then you can get up. I will bring a mixing bowl of cool water so you can start soaking your hand. Do you want to drink coffee or TSB? She lifted his injured leg and placed a pillow under it. "Keep it elevated to slow the bleeding." She snatched his pants over her arm.

"Hey, leave 'em."

"You will get them back after you rested and I look at the contusions."

"Thanks Daisy, Reena yer getting as bad as her with yer doctorin, always proddin and pokin a fellow."

Jess was difficult when he had to surrender to medical care and bed rest, insisting nothing is wrong, or used his go-to reply when asked if he was hurt, "Some.'" Reena just as Daisy was wise to him and wouldn't stand for any of his guff.

Jess was sitting up and buttoning his shirt when I checked on him. "You only been resting for ten minutes. You heard Doc Reena's orders," I laughed.

"I was gonna go out ta see if I kin help the kids. Has Jimmy removed the passengers yet?" Jess said.

"I don't know, he's been muttering about the stage tipping over." I replied.

Jess stood up favoring his injured leg, after a few steps to the foot of his bed he sat down. "Get my Levis. I could use a hand."

"Come on Jess, I'll help you get dressed and assist you to walk outside."

"Slim, I might-as-well sit on this here bed if that's the case."

"I will walk you over by the Oak tree and you sit a spell, that's not a request." His injury was coloring up and from the initial showing it was going to be a large bruise. He limped along, and I supported him by his elbow. Mattie joined us. I sat Jess down on a hay bale in the shade of the oak.

"Jess, what were you thinking pulling a stunt like this?"

"Lay off Slim!" Jess said defensively.

"Come on Mattie," I took her hand, "Jess wasn't hurt bad." I consoled my niece seeing her delicate face held fresh tears. Mike didn't want her to hear me lay it on Jess. Chastising anyone should be in private, so I steered Mattie to the corral fence. When she was out of hearing range, I released my fury on Jess.

"Haven't I pounded any sense into you yet? It's twenty some years later and you still pull these stunts! All you do is make me gray. I got worry lines long enough to reach Laramie and back!" I stretched my arm out and pointed in the direction of the town. I paused my spiel to glare at Jess, and beyond him, I saw Jimmy and Mike propping the front right coach frame with railroad sleeper beams. I spoke more rationally to Jess, "You broke your promise. Jess, you knew the odds of coming out of this alive. Mike told me you were pulled down and almost trampled. If I were a gambler, I'd give you less than one out of a hundred odds to walk away unscathed."

"Ya' ain't, so drop it." Jess said, letting his head droop.

(Slim explains why Jess harbors a death wish. WARNING: You may wish to skip over this POV. It depicts the deaths of my original characters, you can skip this POV.)

Slim - Reminisces

I stiffened, ready to argue with Jess for tackling the runaway team. His head was lowered, he slightly turned his head to look upwards at the grassy hill. I watched the direction his eyes took. He was looking at our family cemetery. He must be thinking if he died today, he could be with his wife and son now.

I looked toward the cemetery remembering the traumatic death of his wife and newborn son. They were buried together. Janette died birthing Lil' Jess who was stillborn on December 18, 1882. Doc Andy helped with the delivery and wept. Jess was present supporting Janette allowing her to clench him and dig her nails deeply into his arms. She didn't play the victim for bearing his child, cursing at him, or blaming him for causing her long and painful labor. Jess worried that her labor was that tortuous. As the hours went by, she grew weaker, Jess entreated her to fight and bring their baby into the world. She put her last energy into pushing and their baby emerged. She was spent by the effort. Then her bleeding became uncontrollable. Jess could read through her eyes that she knew she was dying.

Looking into Jess's eyes she said, "I love you forever my dear Jess. Sobbing. What is our baby?"

Jess replied. "A boy, a sweet boy. Janette, this is Lil' Jess." He held the baby close to her face. Her hand raised and she touched her baby and smiled. Her smile was the most beautiful that Jess had ever seen on her face. He is beautiful as you are Jess. I love you forever my dear husband, dearest heart. Janette smiled through tears. She touched Jess's face. Her hand fell away.

Tears streamed down his face, ignoring them, his hands cupped her cheeks. He ever so gently kissed her lips, then felt her last exhale on his cheek.

I couldn't fight back the tears as I felt the pain consuming my Pard. I watched his left hand cradle his tiny son who rested on his mother's chest and Jess kissed his dark downy head.

"My sweet son I love you. God take me, let him live." Jess cried out in anguish and then his voice cracked.

Jess cried, "Janette ya are my life. Ya can't die. Don't die what am I going to do without ya?

My son..." No this can't be… it ain't right…God don't take them. Why both? God why?" Jess raised his angry eyes. Yer punishing me for my past and yer making me pay by taking the two most precious innocent people in my life."

Jess stayed at her side, cradling Janette and his son in his arms, pressing them tightly to his chest, trying to make his heart beat for his beloved wife and son.

Andy nodded at me and I placed my hands on Jess's shoulders, "Jess they are gone." A sob escaped and I broke down. I pulled Jess away as Andy gently laid Janette down and placed the blanket over the baby and her.

"Jess, come with me, they are gone, there is nothing that we can do." I quietly spoke. "Let them go."

Jess pulled away from me and bent over uncovering their faces then whispered his vow of love to his wife and lifted his son placing a kiss on the top of his head. "Lil' Jess I will see ya soon. Listen ta yer ma. Don't grow ta be a no account like yer Pa."

Jess straightened up and stood by my side. I wrapped my arm around his shoulders and squeezed one, knowing Jess would need my support until he healed. Jess turned back to his wife and collapsed against the bed. I stepped right in to ease his fall so that he slumped down on his knees against the bed's edge.

"Slim I need one last time." I stood back next to Andy, and my brother clasped my hand.

"I love you my sweetheart and will keep our vows" then Jess kissed her. He gently picked up his son, cupping Lil' Jess. His nose touched the baby's face, "I'm sorry Jess Francis Matthew Harper, that God took you to punish me for my past sins of killing. Please, son forgive me." He took a slow long look at the small bundle and began weeping.

We gave him a few minutes and I lifted Jess to stand then we supported him to walk out of their bedroom.

Later, after Andy examined the baby, he told me that Lil' Jess inherited his father's black wavy hair and his deep blue eye color. Andy held back his sorrow until we were alone and he let loose. I pulled him into a hug and stroked his back as our dad used to comfort us.

After the passing of his wife and son, Jess hid his sorrow which wasn't healthy; he took on the worst of the ranch labor, posse'd after the lawbreakers and took on gunfighters. Sheriff Corey warned Jess, that he'd lock him up for as long as it took for him to see reason.

Andy explained professionally the results of unresolved grief and guilt, concluding that Jess is depressed and blames himself for their deaths. I made my pard promise me that he would give up his death wish. I knew time will heal, but how long? What stuck in my mind was what I over-heard Jess say before he collapsed by the bedside. Jess said to his wife and son, 'I will see you soon.'

Slim

"Jess, you put yourself at risk does that have to do with the deaths of …?" I was looking toward our family's cemetery as I spoke. Before I could complete my say he cut me off.

"Mind your own damn business!"

"You promised that you would give up your death wish."

"What about you Mr. Sherman, ya' done the same thing, let's hear ya' explain that away."

"I am taller and have more muscle weight than you."

"Ya' fergot ta include yer muscle-bound head. Stand up ya hay-burner and prove me wrong," Jess challenged Slim by putting his fists up. I will let ya' throw the first punch, grandpa."

I pulled my arms up and began circling Jess. Mike approached us, his face was locked into a scowl. It was then we both realized we must look like jack-fools and burst out laughing.

"Slim you're drawing attention to yourself. The passengers are upset enough without seeing you fight with Jess. I'll need your help to get them out before the stage tips on its side." Mike stated. "How you doing Jess?"

"I'll live."

A loud crack was heard, the coach bracing slid from under the coach frame. The right front corner of the coach frame was on the ground. Screeches emanated from the coach interior.

MIKE

Although Slim tore into Jess, I could see it was a release of adrenaline and fear for his friend. The same reaction I get when my daughters happen into trouble. Jess struggled to stand and allowed Slim to pull him to his feet.

Jess got his anger near to normal to sarcastically reply, "Wasn't anythin', besides gray is a change from lookin' at yer yeller thatch. Gray makes ya' look yer age Grandpa."

Jimmy followed me waiting to take his turn to harass Jess, "Didn't ya hear me? You could'a gots yerself kilt! Yer stubborner than a mule."

"Didn't, no sense lecturing at me. Ya's wastin' air. Nothin' happened, so stop cacklin'! I been knocked around plenty o' times."

I was feeling a headache coming on and walked toward the corral fence to check on my daughter. I crossed my arms over the top rail and rested my chin on them.

"Dad, is Jess alright?"

"He's just been shaken up some, he won't let anything stop him. I must help Jimmy sort out the damage. I'm bringing Jess over to sit a spell, no less than a half an hour. See that rock yonder?" She nodded yes. "When the rock's shadow is catching up to that exposed root that is about time. He'll listen to you, keep your eye on him. We'll sit here a little later and get back to our discussion sweetie. After the half hour, you can be a big help to your Ma. If anyone is injured, you can assist her and give her a hand setting up the meals for the passengers."

"Dad, I'm sorry I disobeyed you."

"I know you are and promise me, you will listen when I give you directions, OK?" I squeezed her knee and pecked her cheek.

She nodded then stood by the oak tree as I brought Jess limping to the tree. This is my daughter's favorite spot under the large Bur Oak where we hold our father-daughter talks and bonded. The tree grew large since I arrived at the ranch, so big that its trunk engulfed the corral post.

"Jess, you heard Reena's orders, sit on this hay bale, and rest your foot on the middle rail. While you elevate your leg Mattie will keep you company. No argument." I winked at my daughter. She was holding Jess's hand.

"Mike, I have not let the folks out yet until I brace the wheels." We ran to the barn collecting heavy chunks of beams to chock the wheels. "We need more wood." Another trip to the side of the barn and the wood was employed under the floor to level and support the coach after the folks were out." Jimmy explained his plan of action.

"I'm on it." I was getting mentally prepared to assist the passengers.

"They's chompin at the bit to get out. Some may need ta' use the outhouse from their scar. We best get em out fast; you get my track?" Jimmy winked.

Jimmy and I approached the coach hearing moans and cussing.

"Folks, don't move the coach is in a precarious position." Slim was prodding the other side of the coach, as I did the same, kicking the wheels then pushing against the coach. We nodded to each other that it seemed stable enough to withstand the interior movement of exiting folks. I opened the door, "Anyone hurt?" I saw heads shake no, accompanied by, "I'm good, not hurt and let me out now."

"Please don't move. One person at a time will exit. It is temporarily stabilized so be quick to exit." We stood by the door to make their egress as safe as possible.

This was their last stop before Laramie. The youngest traveler was a dainty bloom, perhaps just a petal or two near sixteen, she giggled when I grasped her waist, lifting her off the running board. I set her down on firm ground. I wondered why she traveled without an adult.

The passengers were in one piece and aggravated. The coach was over-filled like a busted can of biscuits, double helpings of dust laid on the inside and out, churned up by the erratic drive. Naturally, folks cramped together and experiencing this calamity could not be expected to be pleasant.

When everyone was safe on terra-firma I spoke, "I'm grateful to see that no one is injured, welcome to the Sherman Relay Station. When you arrive in Laramie the Overland will refund your tickets to compensate for this mishap."

Wyoming's summers are notorious for spells of droughts contributing to profuse quantities of dust. Stage coach wheels mercilessly pulverize the dry earth to powder. The four-up horses' hooves kick the dust skyward then it showers down on everything.

Two adult women swiped off dust coating their hats and jackets. The teen girl kept her eyes on the debarking passengers, and a quick smile played on her face when a teen boy stepped down. The older two women turned toward their escorts attacking the powdered nuisance on their backs. I offered a quick nod of sympathy to the men enduring their women's strident swats, reminding me of Aunt Daisy's ferocious attacks on our rugs after dust storms.

I winced with each thwacking sound. I had to act to end the gents' torment. Food and most certainly a drink of water would quench parched throats and draw them inside. "There's coffee and cold lemonade in the house. A hot lunch is waiting for anyone who is hungry for a small fee. The facility is in the back." I repeated the memorized old-as-dirt greeting. The man wearing the now speckless jacket mouthed a thanks as he and I watched the women march to the house.

A tirade of shrill feminine complaints grabbed my attention followed by its owner emerging from the side of the house. "I opened the door to that, that, primitive latrine. I ventured in and took one look and I refuse to use that ramshackle outhouse. I would not be surprised if a Sears & Roebuck Catalog pages were supplied beside the seat. I could not stay in there, while watching for crawly beasts lurking in the knotholes! It is beneath me to comment on the stench, so I won't. Expecting stage line travelers, who paid an exuberant fare to utilize this facility is extortion!"

The last part about "beasts" I heard loud and clear. I carefully phrased my question recalling the chiding I got from my wife when I accidentally walked in on her without knocking. I was at a loss to address this vexed woman's discomfort without delving into her ablutions.

"Ma'am did a spider bite you?" I probed hoping that she was not menaced by an eight legger in the privy.

"I wouldn't know." She condescended.

"Huh? Were you bit inside the latrine?" Did this prima donna not understand Western speak, or did she want me to play the one hundred questions game to gain attention to herself? It was working as the two ladies turned from the house to view the ruckus along with my wife who stood in the doorway.

"Not on your life sonny, I almost ruined the brocade silk on my Louis heeled shoes on the muck and gravel walkway to that shanty!" She lifted her skirts high to show off her silk patterned red and brown beloved shoes enclosing her ankles by a buttoned-up flap. The heels were two inches high and tapered inward at their mid-point then flared at the bottom, resembling an hour glass. She turned slightly toward the house, showing off her shoes to the other women. I was not sympathetic cause I would not give two hoots for fancy shod feet.

When she turned back to me, her catty smile faded and she spoke loudly, "These are the latest in New York shoe fashion and they cost more than you make in two years. I did not care to sit on a splintered wood plank seat. No thanks!"

"Ma'am I hope you aren't describing our outdoor facility. You may have walked to the next ranch and that is how I would describe our neighbor's outhouse. Our comfort cabin is modernized with a porcelain water closet that does flush. If you, actually looked inside, you would also have seen a sink with running water. And we supply tissue paper in a wicker basket. We check for beasties every morning." I

assured her. I do the same for Jess it's our secret. Jess has a fear of spiders whereas I find them fascinating. If I charged Jess a penny for every spider I caught and released since day one, I'd be wearing my own pair of Louis heeled boots!

The neighboring ranch was far off, she ignored my comment and kept on ranting. Perhaps it did not occur to her that I was being sarcastic. Jimmy turned away from her so she wouldn't see him smirking.

I do the same for Jess it's our secret. Jess has a fear of spiders whereas I find them fascinating. If I charged Jess a penny for every spider I caught and released since day one, I'd be wearing my own pair of Louis heeled boots!

She huffed her reply, "You consider that modern?" Then ended her tirade with, "I prefer to wait until we get into Laramie." She accented her opinion with a quick lift of her head looking down on me and smugly smiled at the other ladies.

"Suit yourself Ma'am." I reined back my sarcastic tone. If the repair is lengthy, she will find she can't buck nature and will run to the crapper!

"Germaine!" An accountant type wearing a derby, high-neck collar shirt with tie, and a three-piece gray suit impeccably tailored yelled to his wife.

"What Delbert?"

"Duchess my dear, there is no need to be sulky and I told you not to wear those shoes for travelling. It must have slipped your mind that we were educated by our local constable on the rural qualities of the West. Now try to be pleasant it's not this young man's fault that you feel pouty, he's being very accommodating considering."

She abruptly pivoted to face the stage coach. "Driver, you whoooo."

Jimmy stood up from his kneeled position inspecting the stage's underside, his eyebrows knitted together in annoyance. "What Ma'am?" He grunted, respectfully touching his hat then swiped dirt off his knees.

"Would you please be a dear and bring down my large dark brown leather trunk. I don't see it." Her hand lifted to her brow to shield her eyes from the sun's glare. It better not be buried under those cheap satchels and dirty sacks!" She pointed to where it should have been. "Where is my trunk?"

Jimmy climbed into the boot carefully, aware that the coach wasn't stabilized yet. He stood on the driver's bench for a better look over the coach's roof. "Ma'am, it's on its side, must'a shifted some." Jimmy stepped down to the top of the wheel.

"Well, what are you waiting for?"

"Ya asked where is yer trunk, so I told ya."

"Bring it down, I need to exchange my shoes for boots, and do clean off your hands before you take the handles."

Jimmy jumped down to the ground. Knowing Jimmy, he probably gave her an eye roll.

She waited then with fire in her eyes, she spat, "If this driveway was bricked, I wouldn't need you to retrieve it."

Before Jimmy spoke, he stood erect resisting the urge to rub his axle grease smeared hands against his thighs. "Nope, ain't got time, got ta fix the stage."

"If he won't you better!" She addressed me. For emphasis, she stomped her foot, like an impatient equine nag.

"Jimmy is right we need to work on the stage. All the passengers want to get to Laramie before nightfall and we are burning daylight," I backed Jimmy.

"Now look here, young man, is there an adult present that runs this station?"

"Yeah, Slim Sherman is the owner and if you got complaints see him."

"Is that him?" Hope put a lilt in her voice.

Jimmy and I followed her focus that was honed on a set of lean hips framed by a black holster while the figure strolled into the barn. We recognized Jess's swagger emphasized by his snug chaps and tightly fitting jean covered bottom. "Nope that's Jess, our ranch foreman." I admired Jess's fluid grace; he was born an athlete and still had his youthful prowess.

"I'll have to report you to the Overland Company supervisor since no one is present to address your insolence." Her attention found us after Jess was swallowed by the dark interior of the barn.

Jimmy elbowed me and we gave each other a knowing nod that Jess was still the lady draw, now well past his forty years. I am sure he was forcing himself to walk normal to avoid giving away any evidence that he is hurt. I supposed it was a survival thing that Dixie Howard taught him never to show weakness to anyone out to get you. Living at the ranch, he still masks his hurts from us so we won't do any fretting on him. Doc Andy gave Reena a small jar of powdered pain killer to slip it into his coffee whenever he orr us was in pain.

"We will hear about it if I can't fix it timely like. And iffen it ain't running no one is going nowhere! Now stop pestering me over shoes so I can get back to work," Jimmy pushed back his bedraggled Stetson and glared at her.

The group of passengers seemed disappointed that the spat was short lived and returned to milling about offering false smiles to their fellow travelers. The duchess' Germaine brushed my shoulder passing me like her britches were torched. "Scuse me Ma'am. "I acquiesced since it was obvious that she was spoilt and her husband catered to her.

Mike Reminisces

I thought of Daisy, rest her soul, who finally talked Slim into installing modern plumbing, including a toilet named after its inventor. If you drop the last three letters from Mr. Crapper's name it becomes a swear word. Let's put it this way; when Aunt Daisy heard me say that word, she declared it was downright offensive. It was the summer of '74 when Mr. Frazier, the manager of the Overland's Eastern Wyoming Division was auditing the books criticizing the rundown appearance of our relay station. The only saving grace is Miss Daisy's cooking, he said, in turn Jess repeated that to Daisy. She insisted that a certain someone would be wise and it would be advantageous to build a new outhouse for the guests' comfort staring directly at Slim.

Jess said, it's for taking a c**p. Aunt Daisy reacted, promptly smacking his arm with her rolling pin to hush the word. Ow! Jess exclaimed rubbing at the sting. How fancy does it need ta be Miz Daisy?

She replied, there is no need to give an old swear word a new name. Boys, I don't want to hear those words in front of Mike or polite company, me included. Substitute that word for the other and it's still cussing. She fetched the Grandma's Lye soap bar to use on me. I tried to run and hide while Jess and Slim laughed. From then on us men called it a crapper. When Daisy wasn't around, they allowed me to swear in their presence. A year later a new outhouse went up during Daisy's absence, we also surprised her with a bathing room annexed to the kitchen complete with a water closet, sink, and tub. The pipe layout also brought hot and cold running water to the tub and kitchen sink. The discharged water was piped out to a cistern downwind of the house. A very surprised Daisy was joyfully overwhelmed.

"Mike!" Jimmie's shout broke into my thoughts. I trailed the passengers to the house for some cold lemonade thinking that this surely was one passel of cranky folks.

"Yeah?"

"Mike hold up, the steering feels sloppy, it acted up between the Tolliver Inn and here forcing me to drive slow and I need help checking her over."

"Let's head over to the house for lemonade. Jess and I saw ya coming in slow like."

Reena was concerned for her parents, listening to Jess and my morning discussion of the robberies occurring randomly along the routes. Perhaps they chose Tolliver's stage stop to hold-up. Jimmy came from there and said the robbers passed it by. Reena said her mom could defend the ranch with Dad at her side and the hired hands. I suggested that we wait for the evening inbound stage, they may have some good news, no sense in worrying.

The Tolliver Inn and Relay Station were reinstated as Wyoming grew. The train tracks were laid across Wyoming that would reduce the demand for stage coach travel. The competition was at the cost of the travel mode. The short run trips within Wyoming and into western South Dakota remained in demand by locals and were provided by the Overland. It proved to be very economical for short distances travel compared to the trains. Hence, the Tolliver's enjoyed a renaissance of their stage stop operated by Bud and Sue Willoughby, managers, and owners. Sue inherited the ranch when her grandmother Ma' Mayfair Tolliver passed after she married Bud.

Bud backed out of his deputy job when he was wounded encountering the Dwyer gang in 1872. Jess was on his way home from a horse selling trip when his horse went lame. Jess was near to the Tolliver ex-way station and stayed overnight for his horse to rest his foot. Jess tried to help Sue break a mustang and it became a competition between two stubborn dark heads. Deputy Bud accused Jess of sparking his girl when he saw Sue kissing Jess in the barn. Bud rushed Jess, and the fight was on. When the dust settled Ma Tolliver told Bud, Whatever, ya saw ya should have been doing it yourself. A woman would like to know where she stands with a man. Jess was grateful when Bud ramped up his courtship of Sue, cause back then Jess was 'a feared of a good woman' although he admitted Sue would be his choice, as he admired her spunk. I was sure he had a strong physical attraction to her. They were kindred spirits.

A year or so later, Sue and Bud got hitched. Jess had a short period of regret with Daisy warning Jess that single nice ladies were being snatched up faster than she could flip pancakes. Sue never left his life because I married their daughter Sarina. My daughter Alice Matilda, is as invincible as her mom. Ma Tolliver hoped Jess would'a married Sue. Now Ma Tolliver resides in our hearts, we love her and her no-nonsense approach to life.

"Mike, Let the folks know there will be a delay." Jimmy knelt continuing his inspection.

"Great, "I muttered not thrilled to add more to their dour dispositions. I set foot in the front door announcing, "Folks, the driver reports that we will have to check over the stage riggings and that coupled with repairs may take a spell or longer, sorry." I heard some grumbles and I retained a pleasant expression on my face stating, "The Great Overland Mail sets safety as our number one priority."

"Young man, do you realize that longer will have us arriving at Laramie by late evening. I am very tired from that rickety stage ride and that scare. I may just lay down on that sofa." The second matronly woman complained.

Mrs. Teadrow what is your concern?" Reena pleasantly asked as she approached the group. Dang if she wasn't the spitting image of Sue.

"If that stage takes that long to be repaired, I don't know where we'd sleep."

I was waiting for The Duchess' to put in her two bits. She sat silently focused on her shoes and when our eyes met, she glowered at me. The teen girl was rocking in Jess's chair flirting with the young Teadrow.

"We have three guest bedrooms; each room has two 'double' sized beds that sleep two at $2.00 a night per person. There is also a furnished bunk house at $1.00 per cot. Over-night stays include an early breakfast. We have a guest bathing room. The rule is don't soak too long and only one at a time. Soap and clean towels, two bits to bathe. Fresh hot water is supplied per bath. I think our guest quarters will cover everyone. There is a dual shower outdoors, it's free if you don't mind cold water. You men can sleep in the bunkhouse," and nodded at the young man indicating he was included. She addressed Germaine, "Ma'am, there is a room with flusher in the hallway of the guest wing. There's no hurry to decide, you all can be accommodated."

"I will confer with my husband Miss and we will let you know." Mrs. Teadrow, joined her husband and son who were standing by the fireplace.

"Doris, I think we have no choice but to stay overnight. We could get a room and Max gets the other bed." His wife scrunched her nose in disgust. "They are not going to make a special trip into town in the dark. It's common sense that the horses will not be driven in the dark on roads that they could suffer injuries."

"May I sleep in the bunk house?" Max asked his mother. I don't blame him; I wouldn't want to sleep in the same room with my folks either.

"Hush Maxie, we'll see dear." His mother replied, patting his back.

"Mom please don't call me that," An embarrassed Maxwell rolled his eyes then turned to study the fireplace when the cute blonde girl skirted up to him. He blushed for another reason and whispered something to her, and they walked out the front door.

Reena appeared in the main room announcing herself, "I'm Mrs. Williams, we make every effort for your comfort. Do let me know when you decide." She, easily took on Aunt Daisy's gracious hospitality.

"You all are in good hands with Mrs. Williams," I supported my lovely wife proud of her and knowing Daisy would approve. She glanced at me, and I could tell she was exasperated by the passengers' attitudes. I turned and walked out the door, breathing a sigh of relief to get away from the griping.

"Thanks Mike, Slim will help you." Reena said winking at me.

Jimmy was waiting on the porch and I handed him a cold lemonade, he acknowledged my angst with a knowing grin. "The kids went to the corral near the haystack. Best I keep my eye on em. Mike, my pappy told me to expect passengers like that bunch, ornery as mules. I jest drive 'em and give 'em a grunt or two so they thinks I is listening. Tee Hee Haww Hee Heee," he laughed then jabbed me in the ribs. That persnickety one is something else ain't she? Ya had her going with that yarn of tellin her it's the neighbor's potty that she saw. Ya wanna bet on how soon she'll run to use it? Hee Haww Hee Heeee."

I started laughing to let go of my aggravation. "l will get Slim." I didn't know where he was and maybe Reena would, I groaned not hankering to return into the house to ask her, so I snuck through the kitchen door to avoid the guests. "Hey Babe where's Slim?"

"Barn," She answered, her arms and hands were busy, one arm cradled a large mixing bowl and the other a wood spoon beating biscuit dough.

"You making Daisy's golden rolls recipe?"

"Yep, they usually bring smiles to folks and an appetizing food that lightens up sour dispositions is a good thing."

Duchess' entered the kitchen, looking for cream, seeing us, disapproval washed over her face, I guessed "Babe" was too crass for her ears. I thought it was better than calling my wife duchess. Reena took charge of fetching her the cream filled pitcher. "Mike go. He's in the barn," shooing me off with her hands. "There you go, is there anything else Mrs.?" Reena handed her the pitcher.

I hung back to see if that woman would take issue with my wife.

"I'm Mrs. Germaine Filmore. A pinch of sugar too, please. Are you making biscuits for dinner?"

"Yes Mrs. Filmore."

"I'm a pretty good cook, may I give you a hand?"

"Please," Reena tossed a towel to Duchess as she washed her hands. "Apron's on the back of the chair."

I gaped in disbelief that this snobbish woman offered her help. I had to touch my mouth to be sure it was closed.

Beyond the kitchen, I could see the passengers were seated at the table drinking beverages and seemed to settle down some, accepting that repairs will take time. I nodded to Reena then took a deep breath and calmly spoke, "Your stagecoach driver reports that we will have to check over the axle assembly, and iffen repairs are required, they may take a good three hours or so. Sorry, for the inconvenience. I ignored their grumbling, and I was tired of maintaining a cheery disposition. I said, "We'll do our best to have the stage ready by early evening. Tonight's supper will be complimentary to compensate for the delay."

Mike

"Hey Slim, Slim!" I yelled as I jogged to the yard's corral where Mattie, my oldest daughter waited for me. She entertained Jess while he was under medical arrest.

Mattie was perched on the top rail of the corral fence with her boot heels hooked behind the middle one. Andy's old jeans that had frayed hems and holes at the knees were being worn by her, and her knees were peeking out. My daughter will be tall, matching Andy's height soon and already robustly built. Andy is slight, mostly due to his mother's side, including his brown eyes. Slim is tall, some inches past six feet taking after his Pa. I can't remember my dad's frame, but I am now an inch taller than Jess.

"What Mike?" Slim stood in front of the stable holding a sledgehammer. "I'm straightening out a metal piece from the coach and keeping an eye on Jess, what's up?"

"Jimmy says he can't seem to locate the grinding sound and vibrations coming off the wheel assembly, thinks it could be the axle. Could ya give him a hand inspecting it?"

"Shuure, be out soon just finishing up. Tell Jimmy to get some grub and sit for a spell. Let Jess know it's past a half hour and he can get up."

Mr. Fillmore walked toward us coddling his cup of coffee.

"Howdy, I see ya got your coffee." I reckoned he shucked his wife for a few minutes of peace and quiet.

"Uh huh, much obliged, it hits the spot. Is there really a problem with the coach?"

"Can't be sure until we check her over," I replied.

I dismissed Jess and settled myself on a hay bale near my daughter. The oak's dark shade covered a large area spilling into the corral where the fresh set of stage horses lined up along the fence for my daughter's attention. She was cooing to them as Jess does stroking one's face when another pushed his rival away for her touches. I smiled, because she was so much like Jess in mannerisms and had his love of horses, heck she could have been Jess's kid.

"I just need to stretch my legs and watch your broomtails in the corral for a spell. Do you mind?"

"Lookin's free. I hope you don't mind me telling a story to my daughter, I was just getting ready to begin."

"Mind if I listen, far better than listening to the women's carping."

"Help yourself, you're welcome to take a seat on these hay bales."

Two more folks approached followed by the teen boy and the flaxen haired girl. I smiled at the group that was forming. I figured a story may break up the monotony of waiting. "I have to give you a little background to our family history for your benefit; otherwise, I'd skip this part. I am Mike Williams, part owner of this ranch along with Slim and Andy Sherman, and Jess Harper. I know what you might be thinking, so I will nip gossip in the bud. Some folks think we had three separate fathers, and are sons of one mother. Our relationships or lack of can be confusing. I don't want you thinking that the folks at the Sherman Ranch and Relay Station were doing some unwholesome sashaying. Since, I caught your attention, allow me to continue then I'll get to telling. No offense is intended cause most outsiders become confused trying to cipher on how we roll. They scratch their heads, their thoughts likened to bugs tickling their brains."

"This is my oldest, Alice Matilda Williams," we call her Mattie, "Say hello honey."

"How, uh, Hi!" She raised her hand up in an Indian greeting, flashing them her lovely smile.

"She's my tomboy daughter prefers her handle, Mattie, taken from my brother Slim's formal name, Matthew. Mattie will turn twelve in two days, and has been hounding me for her own rifle. Jess is working on my other three daughters to learn ranching skills, he doesn't treat them as girls, unless Sarina dresses them up Sunday style."

I looked over the passengers who were taking an interest and sure enough, I spotted a man scratching his head. I nudged Mattie and nodded toward him. She covered her mouth to hide her snickers.

"Whose Aunt is Daisy, and I'm confused, Sarina is Reena?" Mrs. Teadrow asked and requested I explain my ties with the men I call brothers.

Sarina is my wife, when Mattie was still in diapers, she called her Reena. The name stuck and she doesn't mind being called by either name.

"Daisy is not an aunt to any of us. Calling her Aunt Daisy was easier for me to show respect to her, when I was a kid. Daisy and her husband, planned on moving west, the sale of their home was placed in the hands of a property broker who also located a nice home with a store front in Sherman Wyoming. She was given a phony deed to a nonexistent property. Mrs. Cooper's husband passed away after the sale was completed."

"This swindler made her believe it was a house with a store front, in Sherman, Wyoming, which is a ghost town." I noticed the female listeners became appalled at the ordeal Aunt Daisy endured.

Slim continued for me. "She was alone and homeless, I hired her to be our housekeeper and nanny to Mike who was six at that time. We grew to love her and that is one of my best decisions next to hiring Jess who is now like a brother to me." Slim informed our listeners.

"Jess Harper, Slim and Andy Sherman are not related to me. We are brothers and a family." I said.

"Slim and Andy are sons of the late Matthew and Mary Sherman. They inherited this ranch when their folks passed during the civil war decade. Slim hired Jess Harper in 1869 to help with ranching and the stage work." I paused to take a breath.

"Sir, excuse me, is that the legend, lightning-fast draw Jess Harper?" The teen boy asked, with a case of hero worship plastered on his face.

"Yes, Jess got his reputation before he reached twenty. He was one of the fastest. Now, he is a partner and likes to think of himself as a ranch hand with an edge. He was written into dime novels, and that has made him a legend to readers. He hates that he is written as a gunman. He says that it encourages youngsters who think they are fast draws to call him out. Don't let him hear you praise him 'cause he would tell ya..."

Jess

"It's a God dern lie" I sneered trying not to limp as I carried some equipment and repair parts to the stage. "Kid, ya'd be wise not ta believe everything ya hear and only some of what ya see. Nothing's black and white in life. "Who are you son?" I asked.

"Maxwell Theodore Edmonds Teadrow, sir."

I didn't mean ta sound gruff, I turned and walked back ta the teen, and extended my hand and we shook hands. He gazed at the scarred walnut revolver butt that showed above my holster. I still tied it low on my hip.

"Mr. Teadrow, I was not a gunman. I never feared a showdown, all my fights were face ta face, I ain't no back shooter, and I never cut a man down for pleasure. I am far from being proud of the reputation pinned on me, or what I done ta stay alive. I still serve as a fill in deputy or volunteer on a posse. I didn't have the opportunity for being educated. You got yourself a fine name, make your father and mother proud for giving it ta ya." I nodded at his parents and touched my hat to them.

"Uh, yes sir, I will. Thank you. Mr. Harper, I have a request. Would you please autograph my dime novel? It is one in a series, Tales of Jess Harper, Outlaw, Renegade and Rancher" This story is, Duel at Parkison Town."

"What's it about? What did he do to get hung?"

"Knowing you Jess, everything and anything," Slim put his two cents in. I elbowed Slim in the ribs.

I believed that dime novels that depicted a real-life person in a made-up story were written with a misplaced sense of hero worship. I never read them 'cause I felt that there were heroes that should be honored for what they did in their waking life. I certainly was not in their company.

'Your neighbor's son was accidently killed, his father, Mr. Parkison believes Slim Sherman killed him to continue an old family feud. He challenges Slim to an old-time duel in Parkison Town. Slim won't oblige. So Parkison kidnaps you to force Slim into the duel or he will hang you," Max summed up the story.

I stepped away from Max and patted myself down, I'm still standin and my head is still on. Too much fairy tale tellin. "Do you have it with ya?" I watched as he pulled out the rolled-up rag from his back pocket. He handed it to me grinning ear ta ear.

"Here it is Mr. Harper, one moment please I need to get a pencil. "Father, please may I use your pencil?" Max handed it to Jess.

I smoothed the paper book flat. I read the cover and stared at the cover's printed picture. I discovered that an artist had drawn a picture of a man wearing a noose around his neck. The 'Harper' who was destined to die had my likeness. Dangum! Seeing that print brought me back to relive a rope tightening around my neck. The lynch mob wanted me hanged for a murder committed by Mason Carmichael. Today, I was hopin to set my gun site on the S.O.B. catchin him on the way ta Tolliver's. I was set up by Mason, just fer refusin to partner with him. A chill ran down my spine.

I flipped through the pages. "I never read one of these novels. Do they have any stories about Billy the Kid or Jesse James?" I asked, and thought maybe one will be written about the Carmichael Crew where brave Jess Harper gets revenge. The Wrecking of the Carmichael Crew, Tales of Jess Harper, The Outlaw Sheriff I grinned 'cause I liked the sound of that.

"Yes, there are a series of stories on the most notorious outlaws and law men such as Wyatt Earp."

A sheriff me? Nah, I'd attrack even more crazies calling me out.

"Hmmm, ya, know this describes Slim pretty good, refusin ta oblige Parkison's desire ta draw Slim inta a gunfight. Slim is stubborn sticking to his principles. One truth, if the story tells it straight, Slim and I are partners and we watch each other's backs always, no matter how dangerous the trouble may become. There's a mighty lot of words here, where do ya want me ta write my name?"

"Inside the cover, will be fine, Sir," I am very grateful." I handed him the pencil.

"Glad to oblige ya." I signed, my handle with a note, 'Listen ta yer folks an straight shoot yer life.' Jess Devlin Harper.

Mrs. Teadrow kept lookin at me. She glanced at her man, then her eyes returned to me, starin at my boots working upward ta the top of my Stetson. She made me uncomfortable. Maybe my thigh was bleeding and I looked down. "Just checkin, Ma'am, if the bandage is still in place." I looked at my thigh and sighed with relief that it wasn't leaking. The only thing visible was the shape of the bandaged where it should be, coverin my cut under my jean leg. When I looked at Max's mother, her eyes darted away. It reminded me of Mike getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Max's face change from idolizing me ta a sort of respect, as one looks at a teacher, the way I regarded Dixie Howard.

Mrs. Teadrow was havin a hard time trying not ta look at me. I seen her head swivel away from me each time I looked in her direction. She was attractive for a middle age mother. I had a moment ta consider courtin again, I can't cause I loved my wife dearly. Besides I vowed she would be the only woman I love. I limped away from them and began searching my pockets for a coin. I found it and continued walking ta the far end of the corral. I tossed it high, drew and shot it in a heartbeat. I casually holstered my gun. The faint hearted jumped back at the crack of the bullet. The passengers' reaction looked like a delayed reaction ta the speed of my draw. "Hey Max, the coins yurns, if ya want it."

Maxwell ran ta where the coin lay, picked it up studying it. "Wow! The hole is dead center! I will keep it forever! Thank you so very much Mr. Harper." Maxwell's face lit up and so did a blush on his mother's cheeks. She spoke quietly to Max and he headed inta the house.

"Hi Uncle Jess," Mattie called out.

"Jess! What are you shooting now? Just stop." Slim ordered me striding inta the sunlight from the barn side door. The harpy, called Duchess was just stepping off the porch, hearing the gunfire, and much like a skittish horse she bee-lined it back inta the house. Slim was wearing a half smile amused at her reaction then returned ta iron working repairin a coach part.

"Hi Mattie, how's my prairie princess? Mike, are you jawing again? Girl, don't believe all the horse muck Mike puts ta your ears. Think I will sit for a spell and make sure you straight shoot the story." Jess plopped unto the hay bale. "Mike why are you sitting you still have some mustangs ta gentle."

"I got throwed good yesterday and my sitting parts are sore. And stabilizing that stage hasn't made it feel any better." I grinned and rubbed my bruised lower back.

"I want a rifle for Christmas Pa!" Mattie blurted out.

"Now hold on Mattie. You just don't get things on demand."

"Why not?" interrupted Jess. "Seems yer four are spoilt."

"That's down to Andy, and you, doting over my four fillies."

"Well, they are girls what ya expect Tiger? And mighty purdy ones ta boot," He twisted on the hay bale, reached up patted Mattie and Luella's knees." Jess looked around and asked, "Say Reena, where's your bundle of joy?"

"Marriane is taking her nap and I will check on her in a few minutes."

"Muriel, was playing with Twobitsy and became curious when she saw us gather at the corral fence, under the oak. She ran straight to Jess. "Hi Uncle Jesse. May I sit on your lap?"

"I found the last of your brood Tiger, Jess smiled and gently lifted Muriel unto his uninjured thigh. Twobitsy rested her front paws on the injured site. "Ouch, get down girl... pushing her off his cut thigh, "Sit!" Jess requested, "Good girl!" then petted her head.

Six-year-old Muriel laughed when she heard my nickname. She clapped her hands spotting Andy ride into the yard. He whoa'd his horse when he rode up to us, hearing the commotion and seeing the group of passengers. Jess began stroking Andy's horse Thunder's silken face.

"Busy day got ya workin' late at the clinic, huh Andy?" Jess inquired looking up at him still seated on his horse. Andy lived in town in a moderate sized house two blocks from Main Street. His clinic is on a side street, two streets over from Main. Laramie, back in the fifties was a one street town. Gradually as the town grew, residential streets along with business streets lined Main. Well-off folks had their homes built on higher ground.

"It was worse than hard, old McAllister passed today, shortly after I made the house call to check on him," Andy sighed like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. "It's never easy seeing a man's chest rise for the last time. I could not save him."

Andy took people and critters' deaths hard. He was studying to be a doctor of vet'nairy medicine. I still can't pronounce that word. He changed his degree to people doctoring and is now a full M.D. or just plain Doc in Western speak.

"Is Mrs. McAllister staying with someone?" Jess asked, concerned for the new widow.

"I rode to fetch her neighbors and asked them to try to comfort her. They said they will and they'd bring their dinner that was still cooking. They left and within the hour they returned with a pot of stew and biscuits. I stayed with her until they arrived. That's what kept me." Andy assured Jess.

Was dinner good? Did ya bring me some biscuits? Jess teased Andy.

"Mike, what is Alice all up about? Is she ill?" Andy swung out of the saddle and placed his hand on her forehead.

"Nah, she wants her own rifle for Christmas. She's getting excited in this heat, talking about it." I paused as a memory floated to the front of my thoughts.

"Pa?" Mattie tugged on my shirt sleeve. "I'm sorry for talking about it, I know you told me you heard my request too many times already, but but...it's the only thing I want for Christmas!"

"Nah don't be sorry, and stop fretting, just behave and do as your Ma asks, besides Christmas is a half year away." Her face brightened by hope, the same feeling I experienced when I thought I would get my rifle.

"Hey Mike were ya day dreamin' or something?" Jess tapped my arm.

"Uh, Sorry, I was remembering."

"About what Pa?" Mattie prodded me.

"To the time I asked for my first rifle, honey. Do you remember Jess?"

"Yeah, it's been a long time Mike and I'm wear'n the scars and bare'n the humiliation."

"Tell us please Pa, please." Luella begged.

"Do you mind Jess?" I had to ask him cause Jess keeps things private.

"Ya got my go ahead, Mike."

"Muriel, Dad is gonna tell us a story. Sit next to the oak and hold on to its trunk." Mattie told her sister.

Muriel climbed to the top rail, sat down, pressing her side against the tree next to Mattie.

I was going to continue telling my story, when Slim and Jimmy ambled over to take the kinks out of their backs.

"I think we might have found the problem and its down to a bearing gone bad. I need some coffee come along Jimmy." Slim slapped Jimmy's back friendly like.

"Slim, does Mrs. Williams' have any apple pie?" Jimmy asked licking his lips.

"You know Jimmy that was the first question your pa, Mose would ask every time he drove the four up into the yard. It's good to hear it again, only, he'd ask that of Mrs. Cooper. Jess and I miss your pa pulling in and trying to stop fast or run Jess over. I never understood that game they played." Slim admitted.

"Tee Hee Haww Hee Heee," Jimmy laughed, sounding just like his father, "Slim I remember my old man grumbling how Jess cheated at that game."

"I lectured Jess that we needed the franchise and to stop playing that 'Dare You' game, running in front of the stage daring Mose to see if he could stop the stage before slamming into you. The sudden stop abruptly knocked the passengers about in the coach that compelled them to complain to the Company." Slim recalled.

"That ain't quite right Slim. I would stand ta the side and hold my finger out with my arm and hand pulled close to my body. I challenged Mose ta guide the horses ta have the stage side brush against my finger. Buttons ran in the way and Mose stopped fast that day."

"I hears Jess was given time off without pay. Then you got into that heated argument about what the rules of employee conduct and what the company could or couldn't do with Jess. Those were the days. Times are getting too tame. That's the way dad told it to me." Jimmy spoke mopping his sweaty brow with his dingy handkerchief."

Mike

"How's Mose been?" I asked.

"Dad's enjoying retirement raising cane at the senior boarding home in Medicine Bow. He's trying to cajole the ladies into baking him pies."

Slim laughed, "Mose hasn't changed, Jimmy. I bet you didn't know he was sweet on Daisy. His coach' would come unhitched when Daisy would catch a ride to town. Daisy's presence would make the man fumble and trip over his own feet."

Slim

"Shouldn't we get back to work Jess?" Slim prompted, but Jess did not budge. "Well seeing no one is moving I'll take a listen too." Slim leaned against the fence. His elderly beloved horse, Alamo ambled up to the fence bumping his head between Slim's shoulders. "Hello, old man, have you been behaving? Slim spoke fondly to his sorrel.

Alamo missed his long-time companion Traveler. Jess lost him three years ago, another tragedy added to the many in my Pard's life. His horse passed from old age. Alamo and Jess seem to sense his spirit's presence. When Jess needed to leave the ranch with his companion Traveller, Alamo was saddened and would sulk. His whinny at those times was unusual. Although Trav is gone Slim's horse still calls out every so often. Jess says he feels his chest nudged by his horse's spirit at the same time Alamo voices that special whinny. That's kinda of strange but who am I to doubt it.

"Last thing to do, when you get the forging done will be for me to replace the bearing. I'll be using your tools Slim." Jimmy advised.

"Thanks, Jimmy yell if you need another set of hands."

"Will do!"

Jess

Max returned to us and waited politely for a break in the conversation, with the blonde young lady shyly trailing behind him. She smiled at me and I nodded to her.

"Pardon me, Mr. Harper I brought you a dime novel that I would like you to keep. It's about one of your adventures."

"I don't know what ta say. Ya sure on giving it away?"

"I read it many times, it's yours if you care to read it." Max replied.

I took the book and read the worn cover, "The Law Breakers, this has an Interestin title, I felt my face flush, I was embarrassed cause all the people were watching me. "Max, I will read it in the evenings. Don't tell me about the story I want to be surprised. I hope I won't be kilt." I set it down next to me on the hay bale. "I don't know what to say." I stood up and shook his hand again. "I'm obliged, say why don't you write to me in the fall and I will reply to you. I ain't a fast writer, but I will write and tell you some truths about me. Ya both can take a seat and Mike may tell an interesting story."

Max, what Jess isn't going to tell you, is that you must be able to read Sanskrit. His handwriting requires an interpreter" Slim joked.

Mike

"So, what happened Pa?" Mattie was becoming impatient 'cause I had to explain a few things to the passengers. I looked outward and most of the passengers were standing around us. Jess dragged hay bales over for those who wanted to sit.

I wanted my own rifle for Christmas. I learned to shoot Jess's rifle at age eleven. Jess explained the rules of handling, cleaning and caring for one. I even had to watch him dress a deer.

Luella began laughing. "Pa that's funny why would you dress a deer?"

"He puts a cowboy hat and bandana on it, if it's a he, if it's a she he ties a ribbon around her neck," Jess kidded.

My girls' giggles were infectious and the guests' laughter joined theirs. "Settle down girls, don't you want to know if I got a rifle for Christmas?"

"Jess and I would sneak off, go up the hill to the stage driveway, cross it and then down the arroyo. The embankments above the culvert would quiet the rifle shots. I became accurate that's when Jess told me he'd get me a rifle. I had my heart set on a repeater Henry. Jess said he would see what he could do if he can convince Hardrock Slim. Slim was against it, and it didn't help when Aunt Daisy sided with him. I begged, promising that I would be good, do all my chores, and get better grades. See I wasn't fond of school just as Jess wasn't, I would rather work outdoors laboring at ranching, breaking horses, rounding up beeves. Slim frowned on it and kept bringing up the joys of becoming educated, That's the key to the future Mike, not ranching or farming. I wouldn't hear of it 'cause I know ranching would always be here on account people like to eat steak."

"I love this ranch. Ranching is in my blood. Anyhow, I kept begging. Slim stipulated that I had to improve my grades and take on additional responsibilities. Aunt Daisy threw in attending church meetings for good measure. Jess knows how hard I worked to meet those goals. I stopped slacking off with Jess," I tossed Jess a muck eating grin.

"Hey, Tiger, who ya calling a slacker?" He laughed.

Jess's laugh got the attention of Sarina who walked over carrying our youngest on her hip then handed Marianne to him.. Sitting on a hay bale, Jess elevated his leg on a middle rail.

"We can both fit on this bale," and Reena gave him an impromptu peck on his cheek.

"I cleared my throat and began the narrative. "The year was 1878 the week of Christmas, and I was 12 years old, the same age as you will be in a few days, Mattie."

To be continued, please watch for Part 2 to be posted Christmas week. Thank you for reading and I hope you return for Part 2. Teaser: It's Christmas time in Laramie 1878. Mike is begging Santa for a Henry repeater rifle. The men recall what made that Christmas Special Chaos.

Credits and References for Part 1

I only own my original characters in this story. Just helpin ta keep Laramie alive. Not written for Profit.

Laramie - Produce by: John Champion, aired on NBC from 1959-1963. A Revue Studios production.

Henry Rifles for providing the history of their rifles online, Henryrifles dot com and their handsome printed catalog.

The permission to use the names, Lil' Jess by "Travels of Lil' Jess Fan Club, owner Margaret O'Brien. The permission to use the name Devlin (Jess's middlename) given by Sevenstars who gave Jess the middlename of Devlin in her stories. Thank you both kindly.

Gun safety:

Stagecoaches - Since this is fiction I described stage accidents to what I view on western movies & tv westerns.

Excuses: Laramie series was not concise on dates or ages please allow for this writer's ad-libbing of historical and Laramie' fictional facts that are nears enough to fit my fiction.