It was a fine spring evening, one of the first of the season that stayed balmy on into the twilight hours, and Jess Harper wasn't looking for trouble. He's been working on saddle-breaking a rowdy mustang for near on the past month, and his efforts today had been rewarded with a few more pretty blue-black bruises to add to his collection and a sore rear. Then, as if that wasn't enough, the fella riding shotgun with Mose on the four o'clock shuttle had come down with a bad case of food poisoning so Jess had volunteered to go on into Laramie with him and lend a horse from the livery stable to ride back to the ranch.
Still, was a fine evening and despite the bruises Jess was in a good mood. The stallion was gentling, he could feel it, and a fine piece of horse-flesh he was. A nice-looking blood bay, he'd got him off a rancher in Cheyenne when he'd been up checking out some steers for the herd. The farmer had been about ready to cut the horse lose, saying he was too wild and hard-mouthed to ever ride but Jess had taken one look at him and decided he would. In the end the man had let him go for far less than he was worth, just happy someone else was taking the horse off his hands. He was a tough one alright, but Jess could tell he'd be a fast ride once he was broke, a good sturdy ranch horse. So, feeling quite a bit satisfied with himself and figuring it wouldn't do too much hurt if he got back to the ranch a little later than expected Jess decided to head on in to the saloon for a drink before riding home.
The small saloon is crowded with townsfolk as he pushes on in, the low hum of conversation and laughter trickling out into the street. It takes a few minutes for him to make his way up to the bar as folks keep stopping him to chat about the town gossip; who's heifers are calving well, who's daughter just got engaged. Jess doesn't mind so much, it's nice to come somewhere and have people know him; a place where people greet him by his first name and a firm hand on his shoulder instead of with a wary eye to the gun on his hip. When he finally makes it to the counter he flips a dime onto the bar top.
"Just a whiskey." He calls, looking out over the room as the bartender pours out his shot. There's a few men crowded around a table in the corner playing cards, most he recognizes and has played with before, but one he doesn't. Probably just an out-of-towner passing through he figures, they get then often enough in Laramie what with the stage coming through. Throwing back his whiskey Jess ambles on over, thinking it might be nice to play a hand or two before he heads on back, maybe make a few dollars to round out the day.
"You gentlemen ready to lose your money again?" He says with a grin when he reaches them, drawing out laughter from a few and groans from another few. The stranger just looks him up and down though, brows furrowing in concentration.
"Hey, I know you from somewhere, don't I?" He asks. Jess frowns, giving him a once-over; he looks rather ordinary, a sandy haired young fellow with pale blue eyes and stubborn set to his chin, but Jess notes the faded scar on one cheek and the gunbelt and pistol worn low on his hips. Something about the man sets him on edge, and suddenly he finds he doesn't want to play a round of poker half as much as he did a minute ago.
"Nah, don't reckon you do." He replies, with a short smile. The mans eyes don't leave him though, and neither doesn't that furrow in his brow.
"Come on and grab a chair Jess, we'll deal you in." Joe Becker, a friendly ranch hand from the Circle K up north says, scooting out a free seat with his foot. Before Jess can take the offer though the stranger slaps his hand down on the table eagerly.
"That's it, you're Harper! Jess Harper! Knew I recognized you from somewhere. I was in Fort Worth when you tangled with those Barker boys, you were mighty fast on that draw from what I remember. Six men against one and you dropped 'em all." Jess laughs uncomfortably, awfully aware of the silence that's suddenly fallen over the saloon.
"Well that was a long time ago now weren't it." He says tightly, trying to ignore the feeling of eyes on the back of his head. The man shakes his head, swaying a little as he rises from his seat. Jess can see now that he's drunk, can smell it on him from where he's standing. He suddenly wishes he'd just gone straight on home.
"It's in your blood, Harper, too late to change that now. Nah, once a gunslinger always a gunslinger is what I say. 'Less you gone soft, that is." There's a new edge to the stranger's voice, one that makes Jess want to reach for his iron, but he keeps his hands where they are, tucking them into his belt instead.
"Listen, I don't know what exactly you're lookin' for but you're lookin' for it in the wrong place. I ain't no gunhawk, leastways not anymore" He says, keeping his voice even but firm. He's met these kind of men before, one's just spoiling for a scrap, always trying to prove themselves. Most of them ended up dead pretty quick. The stranger smiles oddly, and shakes his head almost thoughtfully.
"I don't think I am. A gunhawk don't turn into a barn swallow in my , why don't you show me just how fast your draw is, or are ya yella?" The stranger presses, taking a step out from behind the table, clearly showing the six-shooter holstered in his belt. A low murmur passes through the saloon, and there's the sound of feet on hardwood as a few people choose to take their exit before the bullets start flying. Jess hopes one of them has the wits to go fetch the sheriff.
"I ain't yellow, but I'm not lookin' to kill anyone tonight either, and I imagine you're not lookin' to die. Gentleman, if you'll excuse me I think I'm going to pass on that hand." With that Jess tips his hat towards the table and makes his leave. It goes against all his instincts to turn his back on a drunk man with a gun and a hankering for a fight, but he's pretty sure he won't shoot him in the back in a room full of people. For one thing he'd be swinging by tomorrow dawn, and for a second he wants to prove he's better and he can't do that shooting him in the back. Jess walks forward without looking behind him, hoping the other man has enough wits to sit back down and leave well enough alone. Seems like he's a few cards short of a full deck though because after a long second there's the sound of unsteady footsteps following after him, echoing in the terribly quiet room. Jess makes it out of the saloon and down the front steps before he hears a voice call out.
"Don't you run away from me, Jess Harper. If you're as good a shot as they say you are shouldn't have no problem killing a man, another one that is." The words are accompanied by a short ugly laugh, and Jess turns to see the man standing at the top of the stairs, grinning with all his teeth showing. Half the saloon's out on the deck too by now, waiting to see what'll happen. The air suddenly feels sharp and unsettled, like it is just before a bad storm, and Jess lifts his gun a little before resettling it in his holster. He'll have to play it smart now if he wants both of them to walk away from this in one piece.
"It's like I said, I'm not scared and I sure as hell aren't running. I just don't wanna kill you" He starts carefully, trying to find the right words to turn this around before someone gets hurt. "Look kid, I'm faster then you are and you're drunker than I am. This ain't a fair fight." It's the wrong thing to say though, the other man's face twisting into something mean as he hops down off the stairs and into the street in front of Jess, stumbling a little as his boots hit the ground.
"I ain't that drunk, and you won't know how fast I am till you draw, so draw dammit!" He barks. Moving slow like he's got a wild creature cornered Jess lifts his hands up in a gesture of peace. As drunk as the man is and the way he's staggering if he shoots now he's as like to hit some poor bystander as he is to hit Jess. Pitching his voice gentle and calm, the voice he uses on wounded animals and the like, he tries again.
"Listen, why don't you head back to that card game of yours and I'll ride on home and we can both forget this ever happened, no harm done. It don't have to be like this." It's as near to a plea as he can get, but it seems that the situation is past soothing. The man shakes his head slow, and there's a fire in his eyes, stoked by whiskey and arrogance, that Jess knows from experience can't be quenched. He smiles, and there's something terribly final to it.
"Sorry friend, I think it does."
Jess sees in the other man's shoulder the moment before he goes for the gun and he doesn't think, his arm moving without him. Two shots ring out in the night air, one after the other, and then comes the dull thud of a body hitting the ground.
Night has well and truly fallen, and Jess still hasn't returned from Laramie. Slim stands on the porch and looks out across the ranch to the road that leads into town, squinting into the darkening gloom. Jess doesn't appear from the darkness though, and after a moment he forces himself to push down the unease that shifts in his belly, turning and heading back inside. Jonsey glances up from where he's darning a shirt of Andy's, the boy always seems to be finding new ways to tear them these days, and frowns at the look on Slim's face.
"He ain't home yet?"
"No sign of him." Slim says, running a hand absently down his neck. Andy sets aside the book he'd been reading by the fireplace, his young face creased with worry.
"You think he's alright?" He asks a little plaintively. Slim's not blind, he knows how much his brother idolizes Jess, and how hard he takes it when trouble finds their ranch hand - which it seems too more often then not. Still, there's any number of reasons to explain why Jess hasn't returned home yet, and no reason for alarm.
"I'm sure he is Andy. Maybe the stage got delayed and he decided to spend the night in Laramie instead of riding home in the dark. He'll be back tomorrow morning if he isn't tonight, I'm sure." It's a perfectly reasonable guess and Slim wishes he could only believe it with the same confidence he says it, though Andy doesn't seem much comforted by it either. Trying for a smile Slim runs a hand through the boys hair, and cocks his head. "Now, it's late, and we got a busy day of work tomorrow. You wash up and get yourself to bed, alright? Jess'll be fine without you worrying over nothing."
Andy nods slowly, obviously reluctant to sleep before Jess has returned, but he doesn't talk back and sets the book aside, heading for the bedroom. Slim waits until Andy's closed the door before he takes a seat at the table across from Jonsey. Jonsey looks at him over his darning, one eyebrow quirked.
"Seems to me like you should be takin' some of yer own advice there." Slim sighs, rubbing at his eyes. It's been a long day and he's eager to get to his own bed, but something keeps him up.
"Aw, I know Jonsey. I'm sure it's nothing, just that Jess seems to stumble into bad circumstances more than any other man I know."
"And he's always stumbled his way out of 'em too." Slim smiles at that, shaking his head; it's one way to put it. He may stumble and claw and he may need a helping hand, but Jess Harper sure doesn't stay down when he's kicked.
"Guess you're right. Even if it's by the skin of his teeth." Still, he can't help the uneasiness that plagues him. While Jess has been to known in the past to head off on his own a time or two, or disappear without a word and reappear just as abruptly, it had been a while since the last occasion and Slim had hoped that they were beyond the young man's urge to turn tail and run at the first sign he might be rejected. He understood why that was Jess's instinct, he's been run out of enough places and been hurt by enough people to have built up a wall a mile thick around him. Easier to say you're leaving out of your own free will then to have someone tell you to git. Jess had settled into life at the ranch here with the three of them though, and a better friend and partner Slim couldn't have asked for. He'd sure hate for that to all go up in smoke.
He and Jonsey sit up for another half an hour or so, until it becomes clear that Jess isn't going to come home tonight. Much as he'd like to wait longer there's chores to be done tomorrow, the 7' o'clock stage will be coming through and he needs to mend some fences up in the northern pasture as well as all the other little bits and bobs it takes to keep a ranch running. He hopes Jess is back early, or else it'll take longer by half as he was planning. So, rising from his seat with a last glance out the darkened window he heads himself to bed.