Chapter Four

Listen to what I say!

Eyes rising, heart also, his inner temperature taking the same leap, Jess looked straight into his fear. Mike was with Singer! Leaping from his horse's back, Jess raced up the rocky slope to better his position to fight for the boy's life. With every step his legs punched through the snow, skidding underneath the thick layer, it threatened to drop every part of his body into a ready-made grave.

His throat rumbled a growl. Not him. That was the fate belonging to Singer, and it was ready to be delivered to him right now. Firming his frame, steadying his stance, the rifle in his clasp was given a preparing crack, but Jess couldn't put the aim over Singer's heart. Mike was being held in the way.

His jaw tight, Jess ground the command through his teeth. "Let him go."

"Nuh-uh. But you let some of yourself go. Lose the artillery, so far that you won't be able to crawl to wherever it lands."

Launching both weapons into the rocks, Jess held his palms up and elevated away from his sides. "Now what?"

"We talk a bit."

"Talk fast."

"All right, I agree that there's no reason to putter. First off, I want to know who you are."

"My name's Jess Harper."

"That's not what I meant. I saw you with the sheriff yesterday, Harper. You're part of the posse that was hunting me down. Maybe even a deputy. That means I should make you lie so cold and stiff the snow buries you in less than an hour. And in case you're thinking if my ability is all that accurate, I can easily do it in one shot."

"You're wrong. I ain't with the posse and I ain't wearing a badge. I don't care about the money you took outta the bank. I'm just here for the boy."

"He can't be your son. The boy told me he doesn't have a pa."

"No." Jess thrust his thumb into his chest. "But he belongs with me."

Singer tipped Mike's chin upward. "Is he one of the guardians?"

"Yes."

"Where's the other one?"

Mike's head shook back and forth. "I don't know. All I see is Jess."

"That's fine. I'll keep asking until I know," Singer said, opening his mouth wider to let the shout carry a hard punch down the hillside. "Where's the other guardian?"

"I'm alone."

"Prove it."

Jess' eyebrows turned up. "How?"

"Well, that's an interesting question. I can think of a pretty fun way to answer it, too. Remember that accuracy I was talking about? How do you feel about a bullet on your left arm, right above the elbow?"

The trigger producing a smoking blast, Jess' hand slapped the heat that hit him, the exact place that Singer said it would go. Blood dripping into the snow, Jess pushed his grip deeper to stifle the flow. He could have easily let it go. Nothing needed to be carved out of his hide. The bullet's mark was only a graze.

"Now that that's done," said Singer, shifting the gun barrel to make the point sit between the two circles of blue. "Call out to him that you're hit."

Jess turned, looking into the nothingness all around him. Singer was higher, could see farther, but it wasn't likely that his vision was seeing anything among the constant white but himself. Jess figured that Slim had struck out at first light, riding through the depths until he caught up with Jess' tracks. Any other season and they would be facing Singer together. With a snowstorm not finished with its rage, Slim's trail would be slow to create, too slow to have made it this far.

Squinting into the single shade, Jess slowly searched from left to right in case he was wrong and there really was a dark dot trudging through the snow. There was nothing to see. Turning back, Jess' eyes changed to a steaming glare. There was one important thing to see. Singer, and that he was still holding onto Mike.

"There ain't no one else out here!"

"Call out to him or the next bullet will stick! And you better say something that will make his head rise mighty fast."

"So you can shoot it off?"

"No. So I can shoot yours off. Now call out to him!"

Taking a deep breath, Jess cupped his hands around his mouth. "Slim! I've been shot. Help me!"

The echo couldn't hit back with the force that Jess delivered it. The snow muting its return, the only noise was the storm itself as it fell from above. Then there was the louder racket of the wind's screech, taking the flakes in a playful dart across the ground to build a deeper drift than what was there before. But even with this kind of cacophony tugging on their eardrums, it was obvious there wasn't anyone else around.

"See, what'd I tell you?"

"All right, I'll buy it that you're alone," Singer said, easing the threat by dropping his gun into his holster. "Now where were we?"

"I dunno what was buzzing in your brain, but I was imagining ripping your head off."

His grin widened into a laugh. "I kind of like you, Harper. I have a feeling you'd make a better outlaw than a guardian, but that reminds me exactly where we were. The boy doesn't belong with you anymore. I'm taking him with me."

Jess' bellow was a far greater gust than what screeched around him. "No!"

"I thought the snowstorm was all I could ever ask for, but since some insurance was dropped into my lap, it would be wrong to not take it."

"What're you saying?"

"Why do you have to ask? You might not be a posse man or a deputy, yet I figure since you were with the sheriff, you know exactly who I am."

"Sylvester Singer, robber, killer, an all around no-account."

"Hey now, don't tarnish my name too badly. It's the only one I got!"

"You did all the tarnishing yourself when you left the bank clerk on the floor. You made it even worse when you took Mike."

"You know what, you're right! And since you really do know exactly who I am, you shouldn't have to wonder what I'm going to do with a kid beside me. With all the loot I'm carrying, I've got to have a way out of this territory. It won't always be snowing, you know. Having Mike tucked under my arm, that'll be the easiest way through. No one will stop me, no one will point the nose of a gun in my face. No one will, because you're going back and tell that sheriff that I've got the perfect ticket out."

"You can't!"

"I can. I already have. And I will!"

"No!" Jess leapt through the snow, getting a bullet to plunge through its thickness a few inches in front of his body.

"Aren't you listening? I've already got the boy. What else do I need?"

"Some common sense."

Singer's finger rubbed against the trigger, but he refrained from letting another bullet take flight. "Say that again?"

"You'll never make it in this weather!"

"I'm from the Dakotas. I know snow!"

"But Mike's different. He ain't got the experience."

"So? I'm all he needs."

"You're wrong."

The devil sitting neatly on his shoulder, he laughed. "We'll see."

"Singer! You don't need the boy. Take me instead. If you really wanna hostage then you're gonna need someone that can withstand the winter. The boy'll drop the first night."

"He already had his first night and he made it through, all right. I took care of him. He was warm, snug in my arms with a fire nearby." Singer's voice dropped, breathing a menacing hiss into Mike's ear. "Tell him you were warm and cozy, boy."

"I was, Jess." Mike gulped through his reply. "I even stopped shivering so I could sleep."

"That may be, but the farther you go, he won't be able to keep up. Not when the snow gets deeper. Your horse won't even be able to get through."

"Oh, come now, Harper. You think I'll let my horse flounder if the snow stretches up to his belly?"

"If? Ain't it when? Take a look around you, Singer. Since it's still snowing, what's your other option? Are you gonna just hold up in that cave forever? What'll you use for food? You got enough coffee for more than one night? What about wood? Did you stash an entire month's worth before you moved in? You might be acquainted with winter, but I reckon you didn't equip yourself to withstand this kinda storm for long. Then what'll come of the boy? I'll tell you what'll happen. You'll murder him just as you did the bank teller in Laramie."

Singer's eyes swung back toward the cave. He hadn't intended on making it a permanent lodge. In fact, he hadn't even intended taking a hike into the canyons. The sheriff was supposed to take one look at the sky and refuse to leave his quarters. But the sheriff didn't do what Singer expected, neither had the men that followed the star.

When Singer saw the posse sneaking upon his trail, he pulled away from the roadway to find sufficient shelter to shoot them a solid warning to stay back or else. The posse did disperse, but what exactly did that win get him? The kid, sure, but with the added delay, it got him stuck inside a snowstorm. Looking back out to the land of solid white, Singer didn't even know where the road was anymore. And Harper was right. With the snow still heavily dropping from the sky, it wouldn't be long until his horse wouldn't be able to take the brutal fight. Then what? Singer didn't have an answer that would suit Harper. But having the stolen money, as needed as his heartbeat, he certainly wouldn't quit, not now, not later, not ever.

"Singer!"

He shook the threat away with a rapid spin of his head. "All I think you're trying to do is scare me. I won't fall for it, Harper."

"I ain't! This is truth, Singer. All of it. I don't want the boy to die."

"That's fine, because he won't."

"How can you be so sure? If you wanna keep traveling and can't have your horse underneath, you'll have to carry Mike. And if you really wanna see that money get spent on something other than jail food, you'll have to carry it too. Take me instead. Then you won't have to worry about anything but yourself and the money."

His eyes dropped to the snow-covered hat, flinging clumps of white to the ground as the boy's body rocked with his tremors. He hadn't needed to look to see how Mike was reacting to the snow. Singer could feel it through his layers, could hear the chatter of his teeth. Mike was cold, probably so cold he couldn't stand it. While he had told Harper as much, could he really guarantee that the boy wasn't going to die on him?

He had seen some big snowstorms up along the Canadian border and with the way this one was measuring up, it could easily compare with one of those mighty blows that not even a local could survive in. If the storm worsened, and by the limitless cloud in the sky, it was already worsening, then the boy might not be able to make it all the way to the snow's end. In fact, Singer's own skin might start to turn blue before the sun shone again.

He was a killer, sure, but could he handle the guilt of a child's grave when it would be dug by his two hands? Singer didn't want to think about death, his or the boy's, but it was already too late. He was considering taking Harper up on the swap because he had thought about death, his and the boy's. But even with Singer's concern for Mike's future, there was an important thing to note. He could control the boy. With Harper it could be the other way around.

Again he gave his head a firm shake. "No."

"I'm offering you my life, Singer. A clean swap! Him for me."

"No. Remember what I said about you being more like an outlaw than a guardian? That sense about you hasn't changed. You just might best me somewhere along the way."

"I won't, I swear!"

"I don't believe you, Harper! You're just looking for a chance to kill me."

"You're wrong. I only wanna save Mike."

"I already said I won't let him die. So there's nothing to save."

"Listen to me!"

"No, Harper! I've made my choice. The boy goes with me!"

"Singer, wait!" Jess fell to his knees, his hands quick to form in front of his chest. Their forward thrust was the additional plea. The breaking sound of his voice took his request even further. "Take me instead!"

"No."

Tears came, without thought, without warning, but maybe having Jess' cheeks glistening with something other than snow should have been expected. He was taking his heart out of his chest to bare it in front of an outlaw.

"Please," Jess begged. "Please, Singer."

"No."

"But I know the way out."

He peeled the scarf away from one ear. "Tell me further."

"We ain't far from a pass. It'll get you outta here, even in weather like this. The land goes flat on the other side. It'll still be snowing, but it won't be as deep as up here. I can lead you there."

"Where's it at?"

"I ain't gonna show you unless you let the boy go."

Singer cinched his arm around Mike's throat. "You know the pass he's talking about?"

"No. I don't even know where we are."

"Look at me, Singer, not the boy! Take me instead. I promise you that I'll get you to the pass. I won't complain, I won't fight, I won't do anything but lead you there. Just let Mike go."

"How do I know you're telling me the truth?"

"Singer, I'm begging you. I'm on my knees, I'm saying please. There ain't any more truth than what you're looking at."

Had he ever seen a man so humbled before? It was too bad he didn't know who Jess Harper really was. If he was someone high and mighty, it would make this scene even richer. Whatever kind of man he was, watching him beg made Singer smile, it made him want to challenge the wind's velocity with laughter's uproar, but seeing Harper like this did something else. It made Singer look again at the boy he held. The difference between the two was so stark, Singer's mouth did hang open, but not to wag his tongue to satisfy his funny bone. The boy wasn't humbled. He was weak, afraid.

Singer still wasn't sure about Harper, but suddenly Singer knew what his truth was. Mike would never make it. He really would die. And Singer learned something about his killer's soul. He really couldn't handle digging a child's grave with his own two hands. But Harper, if his grave needed to be dug, it would be a lot easier to endure.

"You have a deal, Harper." Pulling his arm away from Mike's neck, he gave the boy a shove. "Go on, boy. Get out of here."

The moment of release, Mike raced to Jess, being caught into Jess' strength as he leapt into the outstretched arms. "Jess!"

"It's gonna be all right, Tiger," Jess promised, tucking Mike's head against his shoulder.

"How?"

"I dunno all the details yet, but trust me."

"I do, Jess. But I don't see how anything's gonna be fine again."

"Well, let's do this for a start, but you gotta follow exactly what I say. Get on Traveler and ride for home. Don't worry about direction, just let Trav sniff his way back. One thing though, don't try to push him, let him do all the work. He'll get you there just fine."

"You mean I've gotta ride home all alone?"

"Not for long. More'n likely you're gonna run into Slim out there. You know he's gonna be looking for you and not sitting in front of the fireplace wiggling his toes back and forth. But even if you don't run into his tracks, you'll make it home before dark. Traveler hates snow just as much as I do, so he'll want his stall and everything that goes with it. Now get going so my promise to you can come true."

"Oh, Jess," Mike said, sniffing back his tears. "I don't wanna leave you behind."

"You have to, Mike. Singer's already made his end of the swap good, now I gotta do mine. I'll take up with him and you'll be home. That's how it's gonna be."

"But Jess, he'll k..."

"Shhh, Mike." Jess knew what was coming by the way Mike's fingers pinched into his coat, but he wouldn't let the threat of death pass the boy's lips. "Get in the saddle, Mike. Remember, Trav's itching to get back. And I'm itching even harder for you to do the same."

He tried to push away, but he couldn't. Not yet. "What'll I tell Slim?"

"I'll answer that, boy."

Mike spun. He had wondered why Jess' frame was tightening, but he hadn't expected the reason being Singer coming down to interrupt their embrace. It was true that Mike had spent the night tucked to his side, had also shared a saddle with him, yet Mike still recoiled from his sudden closeness, from the sudden point of his pistol.

Taking a step, Jess' body covered Mike like a shield. "Leave him be."

"Not until he knows exactly what to say."

Mike peered around Jess' side. "What's that?"

"You'll tell this other fellow that if he or anyone else comes after us, Harper will die a slow, brutal death. Got it?"

He nodded. "I got it."

"Now get out of here, kid, before I change my mind."

Being lifted out of the snow, Mike was eased into the leather chair by Jess' hands. While Jess' squeeze didn't immediately let go, Mike knew when the feeling of that solid grip left him, Mike would have to nudge his heels into Traveler's sides. He would have to turn his eyes away. What was more, his entire being would have to leave Jess behind. And then that moment came when nothing was touching his body anymore. Jess had let him go. Oh, how truly cold he felt now!

In true Harper fashion, there was no parting word out of Jess. The only sound that he offered was the gentle slap of Jess' palm against Traveler's rump, encouraging the first steps into the snowy trail. Mike's head lowered in fear, in complete sadness. Riding away was rattling his body harder than any shiver from the cold could have ever done. It rattled heart and soul even harder, because Mike knew he was leaving Jess behind to die.

It didn't feel like there was much movement underneath him. All the clocks in the territory must have been following the same pace, dragging along with such slowness that everything seemed to stop except for the falling snow. Had one mile gone by, two? It couldn't have been all that far, for Mike's coat was only mottled, not completely covered. When he took Traveler's reins in hand, Mike had looked down, surprised to see his jacket again. During their hug, Jess must have brushed every flake to the ground. Then he had smiled. Inside the memory, Mike wanted to cry.

Mike's lips quivered. "Oh, Jess."

The blur of white around him growing thicker, it was impossible to know which direction he was facing. It wasn't a difficult thing to trust Jess' word that Traveler would get him back to the ranch, it was just difficult to be in the middle of a wide world of snowy nothingness and not feel all alone. Or was he? Seeing movement, Mike stretched higher in the saddle. With the way the wind was digging underneath his layers and pinching his skin, it must have been skewing the land, making it hard to see. It could have been a tree, swaying with the weight on its branches. Maybe it was a boulder, letting loose of its blanket like how an avalanche let go. But then as the movement dipped into a gully and then back out, he saw the outline, clearer, with more shape. It wasn't a tree, definitely not a boulder. It was a horse and rider. Slim!

Letting go of the reins, Mike raised his arms, swinging them over his head. "Slim! I'm over here!"

"Mike!" His shout made his horse leap underneath him, giving them both the added oomph to cover the thick ground until he reached the other horse's side. "Thank God you're safe."

"Slim!" Somehow he had been able to hold them back when Jess was his lifeline but as Mike leapt into Slim's arms, the tears burst. "He did it for me. I don't deserve it, but he saved me."

"It's all right, Mike," Slim said, hugging him tight, feeling the grip just as strong around his neck. "You're safe. I'll have you home in no time. Everything's going to be all right now."

"No, it can't! It's Jess, Slim. It's Jess!"

He had heard every one, but their meaning had yet to penetrate his being. As Mike's words caught up with him, somehow they skipped his ears and landed against his chest. Where was Jess? Slim's eyes wandered around the blank canvas for his partner, settling on the winding trail that seemed to rise higher and higher the longer he stared into it. Jess should have been with Mike, he should have been at least in sight. He wasn't anywhere.

"Where is he?"

Pulling away from Slim's chest, Mike pointed. "Up there. A man named Sylvester Singer has him and he'll kill him if you try to get him back."

He tried to see what was beyond the constant white, searching for the gun that would be pointing at his partner. Again he could only stare into nothingness. But somehow, whether it was their connection as friends or completely born on fear, Slim could still see the outlaw alongside Jess. And the smoking gun in between was even clearer.

"Where are they, Mike?"

"I don't know." Mike followed Slim's gaze into the unknown, although it wasn't completely forgotten. Traveler's trail did lead to one place he remembered all too well. "We stayed in a small cave last night, that way."

"Probably closed-mouth cave. I'm surprised at that. It's not much of a place to hold up in."

"They're not hold up in it. Singer's taking Jess away, all the way outta the territory. Oh, Slim! Jess would never be in trouble if I'd stayed home like you told me. It'll be all my fault when Jess dies!"

"Hey, now, Mike. Jess wouldn't want to hear you talk like that."

"But it's true! It's my fault. And Singer really will kill Jess."

"No, Mike. Jess will make it through all right."

"You think?"

"I know. You know it, too, so believe it. Jess isn't a stranger to no-accounts."

"But he ain't armed. He made me take Traveler so he doesn't even got a horse. Singer's making him walk. It's so thick up there, he'll die in the snow."

"I know you're afraid, Mike. You have plenty reason to be. Hear this though. Leave the fretting behind the best you can," Slim said, doing his best to make his voice prove that his own fret wasn't standing on his head.

"I don't know how."

"Come on, Mike. I'll take you home."

"And then you'll come back for Jess?"

"You bet I will. Singer isn't going to win so easily. You'll see."

"Oh, Slim. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Are you gonna punish me?"

"You've been through enough, Mike. I doubt even Santa Claus will see fit to leave a little coal in your stocking."

"I kinda forget it's almost Christmas." Mike turned, looking for the place he had left Jess, yet knowing he wouldn't see him. The emptiness added another chill to his spine. Mike knew he might not see Jess again. "Slim, I don't want it to be Christmas. Not anymore. Not without Jess."

"Remember what I said about leaving your fretting behind?"

"But Slim…"

"I'll come back for Jess, Mike. I promise."

"Even though Singer said he'd kill him if you do?"

"Jess might have him tied in a knot before I get back up there. Why, I'll bet that Jess will make sure Singer's a right nice Christmas present to give all of Laramie. You know Jess is capable of that, and more."

He did know Jess' capabilities, and Mike was usually so proud of how Jess came out as the winner of every fight that there was no reason to fear when the next fight would come. Somehow this was different. Maybe it was because he had spent enough time with Singer that he knew the outlaw better than Slim did.

Looking into the blue eyes, Mike saw that he was expecting an answer, something to hold onto, to believe in. Mike nodded, but none of the bobs were felt where it counted the most. Well, maybe one had actually meaning. He was thinking about what Slim said. It was all the hope he had. Could Slim be right? Could Jess overpower Singer? There was a positive answer to be said, but Mike couldn't do it, for he knew who had the actual power in his hands. Mike could still see the blood on Jess' arm, dripping into the snow. Singer shot him once, threatened to do it again. While Jess could fight with the best of them, it was Singer that was holding every bit of power, for it was Singer that was holding the gun.

"Let's go, Mike."

Time no longer stood in stillness. There was still no sense of direction from Mike's view point, but there was now no doubt that he was heading the wrong way. Slim would make sure of that, and it didn't take too much time off of the afternoon when Mike was sure of it himself. Smelling the smoke from the fireplace first, Mike leaned so that he could see the homey curl rising into the snow-filled air. They were home.

The steady plop through the snow made the kitchen door get thrown wide. It was no longer smoke that tickled Mike's nostrils. He smelled food, but wearing that gem of a scent was Aunt Daisy. He thought he cried when Slim hugged him. That was just a couple of tears. In her motherly embrace, Mike shed a torrent.

"Mike!" Daisy cried her own set, sniffling against his wet cap. "I was so worried."

"Me too, Aunt Daisy. I'm sorry."

"Now, now, none of that." The hug complete, she gave a pat against his back to usher Mike through the kitchen door. "You get in by the fire and I'll have a plate of flapjacks made up in no time. I'll even heat the syrup. Go on now, I'll be coming in a minute."

Lowering his head, Slim expected the reason of her staying in the cold, he also expected how difficult it would be to tell her why. He barely got her name through his lips. "Daisy."

"Where's Jess?"

Looking behind him, Slim shook his head. "I've got to go back out there, Daisy."

"Is he…?" Daisy couldn't finish the question, but her hands would finish it for her. Lowering down to her apron, Daisy's fingers started the twist and turn that was her worry.

"I'll make sure he's not."