They say everything happens for a reason, and after that dadgum dream I had last night, I think I'm startin' to believe it. I don't know, 'dream' doesn't seem to get at what really happened to me last night. I think it was some kinda vision, maybe a message from the Almighty, I don't know. Whatever it was, I think I'm happy now to believe that everything happens for a reason.

So here's what happened: Remember that first day that I met Slim, and Andy and Jonesy? Well, when this dream, or whatever it was, first started, I thought I was just rememberin' what happened that day. But I knew I was wrong when some crazy things started to happen. To start, Bud Carlin never showed up at the ranch. It took me a while to realize that what I was seeing was what would have happened if he hadn't decided to stop at the Sherman ranch that day, if he had made different plans and left us alone. Let me tell you, what happened afterwards wasn't pretty. In fact, it was downright ugly. Makes me shiver when I think about it. Anyways, here it goes.

"Now how'd you ever teach Sam to do that?" The boy and the young drifter were crouched down, playing with a tame raccoon named Sam.

"I read in a book once that there's no animal that can't be domesticated," the boy answered as he fed the raccoon from his hand.

"Well here's one that can't." The tone of disdain was clear as the young drifter said these words. With growing admiration for this stranger, the boy quickly replied,

"Here's another." Once the raccoon was safely back in his cage, the dark-haired stranger said a quick,

"So long, Sam," and the two acquaintances made their way to the ranch house. The boy – Andy was his name – lured the drifter to sit a spell with the promise of apple pie. It was Jess's one weakness. They talked back and forth about life, distant places, and then Andy pulled a line that didn't really surprise the young man, who had been watching the boy's eyes light up at the mention of anywhere far away.

"I thought a lot about lightin' out, but I wanna be with someone. A friend." A fond smile stole across the stranger's face as he explained to the boy that he was a loner and he certainly wasn't interested in teaming up with a kid who didn't know anything about life on his own. But Andy was persistent, and the stranger's fond smile grew wider as they started a game of cards.

And that was when Slim walked in.

Up to this point, Jess had been having thoughts he never thought he'd have before, thoughts about what it might be like to have good friends, maybe even a family. His eyes had wandered over the cozy atmosphere that the house gave off. His heart had even gone out to this innocent, eager boy who had welcomed him in so readily and without question.

But when the tall, blonde Sherman brother walked in, all of Jess's learned defenses went back up. He remembered why he had built them up in the first place, because no one was to be trusted. What had just happened to him? He had trusted someone, Pete Morgan, and the next thing he knew he had been double-crossed.

And this rancher? He was the same person who had earlier that day poked a rifle in his face and ordered him off his land as if he were the Almighty, and Jess was some pesky rodent who needed to be disposed of. It almost made Jess angry to know that a sweet boy like Andy could have a brother like this high-and-mighty rancher.

"Slim, this is Jess Harper." Andy introduced his new friend as if he was sure that his brother would immediately take a liking to him the way he had.

"I've already had the pleasure," replied Slim tersely, and there was no hiding the disapproval in his voice. Immediately Andy's bright smile dimmed, and he turned to look at Jess.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he said accusingly. Though he didn't let it show, Jess felt a pang run through him at the accusation in the boy's voice.

"How did I know you were brothers?" he answered, wearing his usual smirk to mask his deeper feelings. "No family resemblance at all."

"Don't let us interrupt," said the older brother in a voice just dripping with sarcasm. "Go ahead. Show him how you can deal 'em off the bottom."

"We're just foolin' around. We're not playin' for money." Andy jumped in, eager to defend his new friend from his brother's seemingly unwarranted dislike. Jess added his own defense, still with his eternal smirk:

"See the way I figure it, if you ever are gonna play for money, you better learn all the tricks so you can spot 'em."

"Yeah, either that or don't tangle with strangers." Jonesy's comment after being silent for the whole exchange held a lot of weight. But Jess was not deterred, and just let his smirk grow wider while responding,

"I'd like to have a nickel for every man who's been hornswoggled in a friendly game." Jonesy dipped his head in slight acknowledgement of the drifter's statement.

"Could be." Finally fed up with the stranger's obvious influence on his younger brother, Slim ordered Andy out to the barn.

"I've got company, Slim," said Andy slowly, in an even, measured tone of defiance. Unable to believe his ears, Slim began to raise his voice to his brother, but was cut off by Jonesy, who wisely reminded him that the stage would be arriving soon, in essence telling him, for heaven's sake, don't fight with your brother in front of this drifter. Slim took the hint and huffed into his room, but not before he gave both Andy and Jess a disapproving scowl.

Jess and the boy continued their conversation and their game, until Andy excused himself to run into his room quickly. What happened inside was a mystery to Jess until Slim and Jonesy came towards the table with extremely unfriendly faces. Before Jess knew what had happened, Slim had shoved him nearly out of his seat and taken his pistol from its holster. Jumping to his feet, he was too surprised to have a smart reply forthcoming, and he'd even forgotten to wear his deceiving smirk.

"I'll keep the gun this time." Slim's words were spoken with no room for argument.

"Slim-" Andy tried to begin, but his brother was done with the excuses.

"Your company's leavin', Andy. And you're stayin'." Understanding began to dawn on Jess's face as he looked behind him at the boy.

"Is that why you went in there? To tell him you were goin' with me?"

"No!" Andy protested, but he didn't sound convincing. Jonesy jumped in at this point, placing his hands on his hips.

"He put two and two together, added eight dollars, a solid gold watch, and that's the answer he come up with." Jess's smirk had not returned, and instead he wore a look of fury, and his eyes never wavered from the tall blonde rancher's face.

"And he never comes up with a wrong answer, does he." Slim's face could have rivaled the drifter's for anger.

"Not this time I didn't."

"I say ya did."

"So do I," Andy threw in with boyish determination. Slim's gaze shifted to his brother's face as a wave of sadness washed over it for a split second.

"Well you're learnin' all sorts a things, aren't ya? How to deal off the bottom. Now how to lie with a straight face."

"All right, I am goin'. With Jess if I can talk him into it, or alone if I have to, and you can't stop me." Only then did Jess tear his gaze away from Slim's to glance in the boy's direction, but only for a minute, and after the boy had made his declaration, he fixed his angry gaze back on the rancher. Still with his hands on his hips, the older man said to the boy,

"You're goin' to Laramie with yer brother."

"Jonesy, I'm leavin'. I been thinkin' about it for a long time." Andy would not be argued with, so his older brother knew the time for arguing was past. He decided to tell it the way he knew it was.

"I thought you had better sense, Andy. How long d'you think it'd be before he ran out on you? With your money, and your watch?" These words lit a fire inside the drifter. He began to shake his head threateningly.

"Oh, you know somethin', Andy, he's talkin' me into takin' you along." The rancher's hard features settled themselves even more into lines of hostility.

"You get outta here." Slim tossed his head in the direction of the front door. "Go on, get." Something in the way he said these words, as if he were shooing away an animal and not a person, reminded Jess of the first time they had met, and how this same person had talked to him like a pest who was not worthy of being seen as an equal. He would just bet that this blonde rancher treated his younger brother the same way, and his last retort came out.

"So you can start beatin' up on him?" This was the last straw for the overly protective older brother. Before either one of the young men knew what was happening, Slim had grabbed Jess by the neck and thrown him against the wall. Though the impact of his head against the wood jarred Jess considerably, he was still able to quickly put out the stars that swam before his eyes and reflexively put up his hands in a defensive posture. Just in time, for the rancher was throwing a right hook at him even as he did so. He was able to block the punch with his arm and throw a right hook of his own, which landed solidly. Slim stumbled backwards, but recovered himself as Jess started towards him. Slim threw another punch at him, but Jess was ready for it and dodged, throwing a punch back at the same time. It just clipped Slim on the chin and simply enraged him even more. Letting out a growl, the rancher charged towards the drifter and slammed him against the wall. Jess's head snapped back and hit the wall again, and on top of his earlier impact the damage was serious. Suddenly his vision blurred, and he slumped down the wall. But Slim was so blinded by his fury and his fear of this stranger who seemed able to lead Andy down the wrong path, that he continued to lay on blow after blow. At first Jess's consciousness was holding on, and he weakly put up his arms to shield his face, but after the continual barrage, he eventually succumbed to the darkness. His arms fell to his side and his head fell limply against the desk to his right.

Only then did Slim feel both Andy and Jonesy on either side of him, trying with all their might to hold back his angry assault. Finally the red that was blurring Slim's vision cleared and he saw the battered body on the floor in front of him.

"Slim! Slim! You're killing him!" Andy yelled in desperation.

"For Pete's sake, Boy, let him alone," Jonesy added, almost as desperately. Slim stilled as he looked at the unconscious form before him, and after many minutes of hard breathing, he bent down to check for signs of life.

"He's alive," he said simply, and quickly rose back up to his feet. "Jonesy, when he comes to, I want you to put him on his horse and send him packin'." Beginning to head into his room to wash off his exertions, Slim paused at the sound of a sniffle. He turned to see Andy kneeling by the drifter, but looking up at him, trying to hold back tears.

"I can't believe you would do somethin' like this, Slim." Though Slim didn't let it show, this remark caused a stab of guilt to run through him.

"I did it for you, Andy. I don't ever want you to grow up into something like him. And that's just what would have happened if you'd run away with him." Andy wiped away a single tear that had leaked down his cheek, and he sniffed again.

"But you would have beat him to death if we hadn't stopped you." Slim let his head hang down.

"Yeah, I guess I got a little carried away." Looking down at the still unmoving form, Andy said,

"He's my friend, Slim." Hearing the boy's admiration caused Slim's anger to flare up again, and he said bitterly,

"Well, you sure can pick 'em, Andy." Jumping to his feet, Andy shouted,

"At least you can pick friends. You can't pick brothers, and I had to get stuck with one like you!" With that, he ran out of the house, leaving Slim feeling as if he had been punched in the gut. Jonesy edged towards him and said,

"He didn't mean it, Slim. Them's just words that come out hasty-like. Give him time and he'll see that what you did, you did for his good." Looking down at the unconscious drifter on the floor, the cause of all these problems, Slim said softly,

"I hope so, Jonesy. I hope so."

Several minutes after Slim had gone into his room, the stranger on the floor began to stir, letting out a groan as he did so. Jonesy knelt awkwardly down beside him.

"How you feelin', Boy?" Jess's only answer was another groan as he tried to sit up. The effort caused his world to turn fuzzy, and he quickly fell back against the desk as unconsciousness threatened to hit again.

"You ought not a' tried to turn Andy against Slim the way you did." Jess eased his head around so that he was looking at the older man.

"I wasn't tryin' to-" He broke off as a shot of pain stabbed through him, and a grimace took the place of the rest of the words he wanted to say.

"No matter what you was tryin', Slim wants you gone. Here's your hat and your gun, and your horse is out front." Jess struggled to rise again, but once more the pain was too much and he sank back against the desk, gasping for breath.

"I may need some help," he wheezed. With some compassion, Jonesy grabbed one of his arms and helped him rise to his feet, in spite of a yelp that he let out in the process. Once he was standing, he paused for a few moments, swaying to and fro, held in place only by Jonesy's steadying grip.

"Can ya help me to my horse?" Jonesy nodded and took each step by his side as he stumbled towards the door. Once they reached the porch and had made their slow way to his horse, Jonesy supported him as he grabbed the saddle horn and attempted to pull himself into the saddle. But his strength had been spent by this point, and he simply fell back against the older man.

"I can't do it," he gasped as he sagged in Jonesy's arms. The old cook looked down at the young drifter with more than a bit of compassion, but even as he made a move to bring him back into the house, Slim's hard voice spoke from the doorway.

"Give him a good push, Jonesy, and he'll make it." Jess heard the voice, and he made a Herculean effort to bring himself up to his feet.

"Do as the man says, Jonesy. If I go back in that house I might contaminate it too much to be livable." Even spoken brokenly, with pain, the sarcasm was plain in his words. Jonesy did as he was told, and with a hard push he was able to get the young gunslinger onto the horse's back. Though doubled over with pain, he turned his horse and loped away in the direction of Laramie.

After Andy's stinging comment, Slim thought it best that he give the boy some space and time to work through his troubles. He was sure the boy was crying in the barn, and he knew that for a boy who was growing into manhood, the last thing he would want was for his brother to see him crying. So Slim let him be. Jonesy encouraged it.

"Give the boy some space, Slim. Remember, you was his age once, and you wouldn't a' wanted your pa comin' and checkin' on ya." Slim had to agree that it was true, so he let Andy alone, even during supper, and even during bedtime. Right before heading to bed, he thought he should go and check on his brother, but something told him to give the boy some more time. He lay in bed, not able to sleep until he heard Andy, and before too long, he heard the front door squeak open and then squeak closed, and his heart eased as he heard his brother tiptoe into the bedroom.

"Glad you made it to bed, Andy," he said as he raised himself onto an elbow. Andy merely grunted,

"Yeah," before climbing into his bed.

"Hungry?" Slim asked, but in the dim light all he saw was his brother shaking his head before he laid it down on his pillow. Slim was sure that a good night's rest would erase all the boy's anger and things would be as they should in the morning. Feeling as if a load had been lifted from his mind, Slim laid back down and fell into a deep, untroubled sleep.

When he awoke, he smelled the heavenly aromas of Jonesy cooking bacon, and he knew the world was right. He looked beside him at Andy's bed and saw that it was empty. Gosh, he really must have slept well if he didn't even hear Andy get up early! He threw himself back on his back and stretched, enjoying the feel of a good night's rest and the prospect of bacon and eggs for breakfast, along with some hot coffee, made just the way Jonesy made it best. A smile stretched itself across his face. Yes, all was right with the world.

He was still pulling his shirt on as he walked into the kitchen. "G'mornin', Jonesy," he called cheerfully.

"It's a mornin', sure 'nuff, but whether it's good or bad I'm still figurin'." Slim grinned at the cantankerous man who had become like an uncle to him and walked to the stove. Sniffing the bacon, he said,

"Mmm, Jonesy, that smells good enough to eat." Jonesy opened his mouth with a grumpy reply, but before he could respond, Slim added, "Say, where's Andy?" Jonesy looked around the room.

"Still sleepin', I expect." Slim, who was about to take a bite from the piece of bacon he had snatched, suddenly froze and let his hand fall.

"He wasn't in our room when I got up." Suddenly, the rosy glasses he had been viewing the morning through dissolved like a piece of butter in a hot pan. A stab of fear shot through him.

"I haven't seen him, and I've been up near two hours," said Jonesy slowly. Slim looked at the old man and held his gaze for a long moment before rushing out the door without a word. Reaching the barn, he looked inside, only to find one of their mares gone, along with a saddle and bridle. He ran back into the house and into the bedroom, frantically pulling open the bottom drawer in their dresser. His heart sank as he realized that Andy's money was gone, as was their father's gold watch. The only thing left was the cloth that had been wrapped around them. There was no denying the truth.

"He's sure gone, ain't he," said Jonesy from the doorway. Slim looked up at him and nodded slowly. His jaw clenched and unclenched, and he gripped the empty cloth so tightly his knuckles turned white. Then, swiftly, he rose and strode to the door, and grabbing his gunbelt, he began to buckle it on.

"Now, Slim…" Jonesy began, but the Sherman brother cut him off.

"Jonesy, don't say anything. I'm just liable to lay out anyone who tries to stop me right now." The iron in his voice froze the old man where he stood, and he simply watched and sent up silent prayers as Slim donned his hat and strode out to the barn. In mere minutes Jonesy heard the sound of his horse's hooves galloping down the road at a furious pace.

The main street in Laramie was as crowded as usual. Though it was early morning, there were many people milling about, women doing their shopping, men stopping in the general store to get supplies for the day, and travelers and strangers crossing the street to get breakfast at the cafe. Even a cowboy or two had already made their way to the saloon. As Slim rode in, he looked at the hitching posts along the street to see if he recognized any of the horses. He didn't, but that didn't mean that either of the people he was searching for wasn't in town. He continued on to the livery stable to check there. Dismounting at the entrance, he led his horse inside as he peeked over the doors of the stalls on each side. When he had reached the middle of the stable, he looked to his right and saw a familiar chestnut face with a blaze. The mare nickered at him fondly, and after a distracted pat on her nose he quickly turned and led his own horse back outside.

Now to find Andy.

Slim led his horse to the closest hitching post and tethered him. Then he made his purposeful way to the hotel, knowing that if there was any news to be had, it would circulate through the hotel first.

"Norm, you haven't seen Andy around, have ya?" Slim asked the hotel clerk. Norm shook his head.

"No, Slim, I sure ain't. What would yer brother be doin' at my hotel? Don't he live at yer ranch no more?" The clerk began to guffaw at what he thought was a good joke, but Slim just turned away irritably. However, just as he reached for the door, a voice reached his ears, a voice that was much too deep for the young man it came out of.

"Why, look, if it ain't Mr. Sherman, the high-and-mighty rancher who don't want his kid brother talkin' to no one but the purest saints." Slim didn't have to turn around to know who was talking, but he whirled around anyways.

"You," he breathed with stifled fury. Jess was still slightly stooped over with pain, but at least the world didn't turn fuzzy every time he made a move anymore. And his eternal smirk had returned.

"What, you couldn't find Andy this morning for his daily pounding?" In one move Slim had closed the distance between them and grabbed Jess by the collar, only a hairbreadth away from throttling him to death.

"Where is he?" Slim hissed through clenched teeth. His rough treatment of Jess was igniting all of his pain again, but, still smirking, Jess looked the rancher dead in the eyes and choked,

"Why don't you go look in my room upstairs." But Slim didn't have to. As he cast his eyes towards the stairs, he saw that Andy had appeared at the top and stood watching the scene with fear evident in his eyes, but a fair mixture of an emotion that was slowly forming into rebellion was there as well. The two brothers stared at each other evenly for many long moments until Slim tore his gaze away to look down at the grinning face of his dark-haired foe. With an outcry of rage, he threw Jess to the floor.

"We're going outside. Right now." Jess looked up at him with a wild gleam in his eye.

"Happy to oblige you."

"Slim! Jess!" Andy cried, but the cries didn't phase his older brother. Slim didn't wait to see Jess struggle to rise from the floor. All he knew was the burning hatred inside that knew this man had turned his brother against him, against all that his mother and father had tried to teach him, and had turned him down a path that could only lead to evil. The only way to save Andy from his influence was to get rid of him.

And Slim didn't know if it was already too late.

Slim had just taken his place in the middle of the street when Andy burst out of the hotel. "Slim, you can't do this!" he pleaded.

"Get out of the way, Andy," Slim ordered impassively.

"No, I won't!" Andy shouted, but just then he heard,

"Do as your brother says, Andy." Jess stood on the boardwalk, stooped over but clearly a force to be reckoned with. After looking between the two of them for a long moment, Andy shrunk to the boardwalk. All the townspeople had scurried into the closest building and were watching from the windows.

Jess limped into the street and placed himself in front of the blonde rancher. He spread his legs apart, taking a gunfighter's position.

"You're no match for me, Sherman. Why don't you go back to your ranch and leave the boy with me." Slim's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. The time for talking was past.

The two men put their arms to their side, watching each other for the slightest move. Each second felt like an hour. The tension in the air was palpable.

And just like that, quicker than the eye could follow, Jess's hand had flashed to his side and pulled his gun. Slim hadn't even cleared leather.

But Jess's hand had also been faster than his brain, and he had pulled the trigger before it registered that a boy's voice had yelled out and Andy Sherman had darted into the street.

Jess's bullet would have caught Slim in the side of the gut. But Andy was much smaller, and he had not made it all the way in front of his brother.

The bullet caught him square in the heart. He collapsed, lifeless, at the feet of his brother.

"Andy!" Slim breathed, catching his brother's body in his arms even as it fell to the ground. Blood seeped onto his arms as he tried to find signs of life. Each movement became more desperate, more frantic as his brother showed no response.

"Andy! Andy!" he called out again and again, shaking his brother. But there was no answer. Finally, his whole body bowed forward on top of his brother's body.

He stayed in that position for several minutes. The silence that enveloped the town was unearthly, strange. It seemed to everyone watching as if the whole world had stopped turning. Andy Sherman had been killed! The youngest child of Matthew Sherman, the beloved child of Laramie, dead? It seemed impossible. Multiple hearts felt that they were breaking in those many minutes.

But none more than Slim Sherman's. The roiling mass of shards inside him were more than torture. They were a living hell. The life that had just been taken was not just his brother's, whom he had raised like a son. It was his best friend, his confidant, his little brother, his only family, his responsibility, his reason for living, all rolled together.

The blonde rancher would have rather died a thousand horrible deaths himself than face this moment.

At last Slim remembered his brother's killer. He looked up with red eyes.

Jess had not moved since the shot was fired. Once the realization of what he had done dawned on him, his pistol fell from his limp hand and he stood there, stooped in pain, shock, and sorrow. No tears would come as he watched the heart-wrenching scene.

But once the pale face of the older Sherman brother looked up at him, Jess knew his earthly days were done. And he had no strength or will left to change that fact.

Slowly, with trembling, bloodstained hands, Slim slid his revolver out of its holster. Aiming it steadily at Jess, with his whole being trembling in hatred, he cocked the hammer back. Jess merely stood there, defenseless, and watched his every move.

"I told you to leave him alone," Slim said in a quiet, deadly voice. The lack of passion in his voice, when he knew how much passion was radiating inside the man, chilled Jess to the bone. Then, as if repeating it would make it happen, Slim released all of that passion in a shout.

"I told you to leave him alone!"

As soon as the shout was released, as soon as the passion was given free rein, Slim fired his pistol into the man who would never be his friend, who could never be anything more than his bitterest enemy. One, two, three, four shots Slim released in quick succession as tears rolled down his face.

With each shot, Jess felt the burning pain go all the way to his core. Darkness followed quickly upon the heels of the pain, and as he staggered in place, his last hazy view was of the grief-stricken face of the man from whom he had taken everything. He would have given everything not to have things turn out this way, but it was too late. As Slim's last shot tore through his abdomen, his eyes fluttered closed. Thoughts of a dark-haired boy, brother to Slim Sherman, danced through his dying mind as he fell, and in that strange place somewhere between life and death, he kept confusing the face of Andy with his own face as a child. It didn't make sense, but somehow it did. I'm not Sherman's brother, was the feeble thought that ran through his head. It would be his last thought as life left him.

Slim Sherman never recovered from the grief. He sold his father's ranch, went off looking for gold in California, and was never heard from again.

Well, as you can imagine, I was amazed as all get out to find myself alive and well when I woke up from this dream. But just being alive and well couldn't shake the terrifying thought of what might have happened, to me, to Andy, to Slim. I felt like I'd seen something I wasn't supposed to. And just think: All that just because Bud Carlin made a tiny little decision, and so many lives would have been changed. I don't know, it just seems to me like all the tiny things in life must happen for a reason, they've just got to be planned out somehow.

When I ran into Slim this morning in the barn, I couldn't help but feel a cold rush of relief run through me when he smiled and said,

"Hey Pard. What'd you do, sleep half the day away?" I know I must have looked like a dadgum idiot, standing there grinnin' at him after he said this. I was just so happy to see him after what I'd seen that I didn't have a joke to throw back at him. A crease formed between his eyebrows and his smile dropped.

"Say Jess, are you feelin' okay?" I guess I finally found my voice then, because I nodded with a laugh and answered,

"Yeah, sure, Hardrock. I'm fine. I'm just fine." He clapped me on the shoulder, and let me tell ya, nothin's ever felt that good in my life.