Part Two

Slim lifted his eyes to the ridge. He had expected by the distant patter that a pair of horses would become visible on the upper roadway. The view remained unchanging. His shoulders performing a shrug, Slim reached for the hammer stuck in his belt and let the head thwack against a fence staple until it went flat with the wooden post. Suddenly his eyes leapt upward again, but still, there was no one there.

"I don't know why I'm so jumpy," Slim said, head in a shake as he lined up the next staple. "If you're not feeling your spine tingling, then I certainly shouldn't be. You got that bottom wire pulled tight yet? All I have to do is hit this staple into place and then I'll be at your level."

"Huh?"

"I asked if you had that wire pulled tight."

"I dunno. Lemme check."

"Check?" Slim's exclaim made him turn to see what kind of position his partner was in. He should have had the barbed wire locked in the stretching tool ten minutes ago, just waiting for Slim to come down the line and hammer the tight wire in position. But there was Jess, hunched and seated, all the world looking as if he was trying to fit his body in the thin line of shade made by the corner fencepost. "You all right, Jess?"

His hand seemingly stuck against his forehead, Jess peeled the palm away from the sweaty rim of his hat to squint at his partner. "Yeah, why?"

"You look as if you have a hangover. I didn't think you've been drinking."

"I ain't."

"Then why the pinched face."

"I gotta headache."

"From what?"

"Dunno. It doesn't say."

Slim squinted into the sun. "Well, it is kind of hot today."

"I was reared in Texas. It ain't that."

"Then what?"

"I dunno. My stomach's pitching back and forth too."

"You sick?" Glove off, Slim's hand pressed into Jess' cheek. "You don't feel fevered."

"I'm fine, Slim," Jess said, brushing off his partner's hand as he stood. "Let's get this wire strung."

"Sure, Jess. It's what I've been trying to do all along."

"Then do it," Jess barked, but while he felt it come off his tongue with dog-like force, why didn't he sound any stronger than a mewling kitten? Taking a step, Jess felt his body sway. In another second, the ground was coming up to hit him, hard. "Slim?"

"Jess!"

Grabbing the canteen, Slim popped its top and then put the spout to Jess' lips. Jess immediately gulped it down. Almost as immediately, Jess' hand clapped onto his belly. "Dadgum, it feels like a razor blade's gotta holda me!"

"What?"

"It hurts, Slim. My stomach!"

"Easy, Jess," Slim said, trying to hold his partner, but the writhing would continue no matter how hard Slim clapped onto Jess' shoulders.

The wave of nausea turned into an even deeper wave of weakness. "Help me, Slim. I dunno if I can… if I can… make it."

"You're not going to die, Jess."

But then Slim froze. How could he stop it if he didn't know what he was up against? Bullets he knew, knife wounds, almost the same, but what was this? It was a sickness of some kind. Or was it? Jess was fine this morning. In fact, he was seemingly fine an hour before. He was fine before he took his canteen in hand.

Curious, Slim put the canteen up to his nose and sniffed. There was nothing vile assaulting his senses, but he couldn't just but the cap back in place without knowing for sure. Pouring a small amount past his lips, Slim's mouth retorted and spit repeatedly until there wasn't a trace of it left on his tongue. There was definitely more than water in it.

"Poison." His cheeks almost as pasty as what his partner wore, Slim put his hand underneath Jess' head, giving him enough lift so that the blurry blue could seek out Slim's. "Hang on, Jess. I'll get you to the doc."

But would it be too late? The way Jess was cramping, the poison was obviously in a hurry to move out of his stomach and into something deeper. If it got to into Jess' blood, he would die. He probably had minutes to get Jess to Laramie, not the couple of hours it would take riding double. If Slim could ride and hold onto Jess at all.

Panic taking hold of him, Slim's head began to switch back and forth as he searched for some kind of miracle. He didn't even know what he was looking for, until he found it. It was across the creek and soon Slim's legs were wet up to his knees as he reached for a group of white berries.

The cluster falling into his hand, Slim suddenly heard his father's voice inside his head.

"Don't eat those, Son."

The young boy's fingertips paused at his mouth. "Why not? Ma makes berry jam all the time."

"I know, but not out of those. Wolf berries. Jonesy would tell you that the Indians around here use them for some medicinal purposes and that's true. But their real purpose is to make a person vomit."

"Why would the Indians wanna be sick?"

"They don't want to be sick, Slim, it's just that it's the Indian's way of getting rid of anything bad that could be in the stomach when it hurts or feels queasy. Just by eating a single handful, everything that's in the stomach comes right on out."

Slim flung the berries to the ground, finishing ridding the touch by wiping both paws on the seat of his pants. "Yuck."

"Remember that, Son. Come on, let's go find some berries that'll do no worse than turning your tongue blue."

Matt Sherman's warning might have made the berries fall out of a small hand then, but before the hunting expedition was over, a curious boy couldn't completely forget his curiosity. When his pa's back was turned, Slim swiped a taste of the berries. Oh, how his pa had chuckled the rest of the afternoon when Slim had been bent over at the waist, hurling the forbidden fruit back onto the ground. It might have been awful then, and even at the blurry memory, Slim shuddered, but maybe there was purpose in that day so many years ago. Because Slim knew firsthand how fast his stomach revolted, the same could happen to Jess.

Back across the creek in a rush, Slim dropped the entire lot of berries in Jess' mouth. "I'm sorry, Jess. But the only way to save your life is to make you sick. Very sick."

The quells of nausea were suddenly worse than before. "Dadgum, Slim. What're you doing to me?"

"It's been about a year since you heard it from Jonesy's mouth, but I think it's the best thing to make you understand. Medicinal purposes."

Jess tried to spit the spongy taste out of his mouth. "That ain't no whiskey!"

"I know. And don't spit. You have to swallow them all."

"Slim, I'm gonna be sick!"

"I know, Jess. I know," he said, holding his partner as his body shook with heaves. "Don't try to talk, just let nature take its course."

It did, all right.

Finally, when the only thing coming out was raspy air, Slim pressed a kerchief into Jess' lips. "You feel any better?"

The head shake all that Jess could express, Slim helped him to his feet. "I understand, but I think you're on the up side now. Come on, I think I can get you into Doctor Sweeney's now without you keeling all the way over."

.:.

The bed linens had been perfectly tucked before Jess was laid down. Now every corner had been kicked loose with the bottom sheet in such a knot that it bulged up between the denim-clad legs. Even a pillow had tumbled to the floor. But Jess' head wasn't without. Doctor Sweeney usually kept two in each recovery room lest the patient needed extra propping.

Slim thought about pulling the blanket up at least as far as Jess' middle, but he left it bunched at the bottom so the thrashing wouldn't start all over again. After all, Jess had only gone quiet ten minutes before. He needed the rest, his poor stomach needed the rest even more.

Hearing the steps outside of the doctor's office, Slim hurried to the door. "He's just fallen asleep, Doc."

"I'm sorry I'm late, Slim. I hurried over as soon as I got your message that Jess was poisoned. However did that happen?"

"Someone tried to kill us, Doc."

He pointed at Jess. "Him I can understand, but you look just as fit as always."

"I am. Only because I drank from the stream instead of my canteen," he said and then handed the doctor Jess' canteen. "Mine's just as tainted. I think it's some form of nightshade."

"You tasted it?"

"Yeah, and immediately spit it out."

"How come Jess didn't notice it?"

"You know Jess, he's a bottomless pit. He opens his mouth and pours whatever it is straight down. But I don't think even I would've caught the taste if I hadn't burned my mouth last night. Tell your patients to never flip slices of bacon over and then immediately take a lick of fat off the fork."

"So the sore in your mouth alerted you to the slight bitterness mixed into the water?"

Nodding, Slim looked toward Jess' arms, one draped over his aching stomach, the other flung above his head. "I only wish I'd tasted it sooner."

"His pulse feels good. Breaths, the same. His belly's sure gurgling to beat the band, though. What'd you use to bring the poison out?"

"How'd you know I did?"

Doctor Sweeney gave Jess' canteen a shake. "If this started out as a full canteen and the way it feels now, Jess certainly consumed enough to kill him. Most nightshade varieties can dig a grave pretty fast. So what'd you use?"

"Wolf berries."

"Ah, yes, because they make their victims howl. You were wise to give him some, Slim."

His hand pressed into his stomach. "Thanks. I have experience."

"I see," he said with a twitch of his mustache. "But what I still don't understand is how you didn't get poisoned. Why did you drink from the stream?"

"Nostalgia."

"What?"

"Oh, I have this memory of being out with my father when I was just big enough to sit the saddle. One time while on the trail together, he had me poised on this log, watching the spring bubble up through the ground. Pa said it tastes better than any water ever created, and he's right. It was so clear and cold! After that, I didn't want to drink from the canteen if there was a spring nearby. I wanted to be like Pa and put my mouth straight over earth's cleanest spout. To this day I still leave my canteen hanging over the saddlehorn if there's a stream close to where I'm working. It's like I have Pa still beside me that way."

"Well, whatever you want to call it, it saved your life."

"What about Jess' life?"

"It saved his too, Slim. You got the majority of the poison out of his system before it could do any major damage."

"So he'll be all right?"

"He might need to use the outhouse more than normal, but Jess should be up and kicking in a day or two, starving most like."

Slim smiled. "I think he was up and kicking the moment I laid him on the bed."

"Looks like. I'll fix up some tea to calm the bubbles in his gut for when he wakes up. Then maybe he won't rearrange the bed linens so much."

"Thanks, Doc."

Slim wished he could have sat by Jess' bedside and if nothing else, merely watch his partner breathe. But Slim had a greater sense in what he needed to watch. The curtain parted, Slim's head whipped toward every stranger that rode onto Front Street, but how would he know if he needed to suddenly draw his gun? He had no idea who was responsible for Jess' soul coming close to hearing heaven's call. And Slim couldn't forget how close he came to being in the same condition. They were both supposed to have died.

"I wonder if he knows he failed."

"What?"

He knew the voice well enough as if it was his own, yet at the stirring in the room, Slim's hand dropped to his gun, the iron clearing his holster before he completed his spin. "Jess!"

"Whattya trying to do, say you can outdraw me just once?"

Cheeks wearing a rosy flush, Slim slapped his gun back in place. "No. Just jumpy is all."

"What for?" Jess asked, but then immediately pressed both hands into his middle. "Forget that. You gotta pail around here? I feel like I'm gonna…"

"I don't think Doc's got a bucket in the room, but I'll help you to the outhouse if you need me to."

"No. I reckon I'm just making a lotta noise in there."

"Here," Slim said, handing Jess a steaming cup. "Doc mixed this up special for you."

"Dadgum, what is this stuff?"

"I don't know what doc called it, but it's supposed to soothe your stomach, so drink it."

Jess' nose wrinkled over the cup. "I'd rather have whiskey."

"That's a definite no. Doc was adamant that you can't take even the smallest swig."

"Dadgum."

"Now drink. No, take more than a sip. A full gulp. Now two. All right, that's good. You'll feel better soon."

The wince unable to turn into a smile, Jess put his head against the pillow. "What happened to me anyway? I had cholera as a kid, so I know it ain't that."

"It was poison, Jess," Slim said, reaching for the canteen that was hanging from the bedpost. "Someone laced both of our canteens with it."

"How did I not notice?"

"It's hard to detect. Nightshade, I think."

"Dadgum. That coulda killed me. While my gut might argue the fact that I'm alive, how come it didn't knock me clear over?"

"Don't you remember?"

"I reckon there's something I've been trying to forget, but remind me so I ain't left hounding my brain the rest of the day."

"Wolf berries. From your part of the country though, you likely know them as snowberries. Once I made you swallow them, well, let's just say you didn't hold onto the poison for much longer."

"Dadgum. So that's why my stomach hurts so bad. I was poisoned twice in the same day. Once by my best friend and the other… Say Slim?"

"Huh?"

"Who tried to kill us?"

"I don't know, Jess. But once the word gets out that the nightshade failed, we're bound to have something else come at us."

"I reckon by the way your face is tighter than my fists in a barroom brawl that there's still no law in town."

He shook his head. "I talked to the mayor. No one's been hired yet."

"So we're on our own."

"I guess."

"Dadgum. If they came at us with something we can't see, what're they gonna come at us with next?"

"How do you know it's they and not just he?"

"Well, there's two of us, so I reckon that means there's two of them."

Sighing, Slim returned to the window, but instead of searching the street for strangers, his eyes wandered toward the horizon, toward the sound of a pair of horses that were trotting somewhere in its center. "I think you're right, Jess."

.:.

"Miz Vale ain't gonna like that we didn't get the job done."

The knife paused in its filing of his fingernails so he could look at the man across from him. He spoke very little, this companion of his, but that was fine. What was the sense in talking about the weather or any other such nonsense anyway? The only important pieces of information to share were when they had a job to do and then spend a good hour boasting about it when it was over.

With this being the first time they hadn't completed a job, he should have known there would be something coming off his friend's tongue, something other than the scent of whiskey. Although there was plenty of boozy bubbles in the air, for he had already put down an entire bottle's worth since setting up camp for the night.

He returned to his task and shaved an uneven shred of his nail off. "Maybe she won't hear about it."

"You know how tongues wag, especially female tongues."

"How can I know that? I hang around you most of the time."

"This ain't funny!"

His hand snapped the knife into the ground, blade first. "Who's laughing?"

"No one," he said, his mouth in its hardest line, which wouldn't be difficult to do. It was always in the same, tight line. "Although Sherman and Harper just might be."

"They don't know who tried to kill them."

"That's right. But now they'll be watching. They just might be watching through a gun's eye. And that's a mighty big eye, if it's Harper's eye."

And it was, because Jess Harper had a reputation. If they had known about the accolades hanging off his belt before agreeing to Edith Vale's terms, they might have requested more money. They might have even backed out. No. They wouldn't have done that. After all, they had their own reputations to keep glowing and since backing out wasn't really an option that the two gunmen could take, they decided to take a different path toward death. As it was said so many times in their business, there were many ways to skin a rat.

"We'll knock 'em down," he had said the night before while ironing out their plan. "With a direct punch to the gut, both men will be so green around the gills, they won't see the bullets coming at them."

Except only one man got his insides turned out. While shooting at a distance might have proven to be a success, they couldn't put enough stock in a long range bullet to pull the triggers. These deaths had to be sure. That was why the original plan had them walking up to the writhing pair and put them out of their misery. Point blank.

But since that didn't get to play out as it had in their imaginations, the two men would have to try again.

"You have another plan?"

He nodded. "I do."

"I hope it's better than the last."

"It is better. It's hotter too, so hot that they'll never know when they take their first step into hell."

.:.

The door opening to let his partner in, the evening's cool breeze slipped in alongside. Slim looked up to greet both. "How do you feel, Jess?"

"Better. I just wish I could quit taking so many trips to the outhouse is all."

"No wonder." Slim watched as Jess sat back down at the dinner table. "Doc said to not overdo the food."

"That's easy for the doc to say. He ain't starving. Are there any potatoes left over?"

"Two. I left them inside the oven door to keep warm."

Back up, Jess fit his left hand with a wadded towel and took a fork into his right. Oven door coming open, Jess stabbed the potato in its center and waited for the tendrils of steam to enter his nose and perk his appetite to where it belonged.

"Aw, that's more like it," he said with a smile. "You want the other or should I eat them both?"

"I'll eat the other to save your belly from popping open later tonight."

"You're a good friend, Slim."

"Thanks. I'll take that goodness a step further and finish the coffee before you pour another cup for yourself too."

"Dadgum. Then how'm I gonna wash down the potato when I'm done?"

Slim's shrug coincided with the last dribbles of coffee going into his cup. "There's always water. Or milk."

"Nuh-uh. Whiskey."

Slim's cup dropped onto the saucer with a loud clank. "Doc said no whiskey. And before you run off to the bedroom to look for the hidden jug, don't. I already put it in a better hiding place and I guarantee it's somewhere you'll never find."

"Dadgum. What a way to end a meal."

"You haven't ended it yet. Eat your potato."

The golden jacket opening up with a burst of steam, Jess reached for the plate of butter in the table's center. "I reckon I'm gonna have to dump the whole pat in so it's wet enough to not make me thirsty."

"You'll just wind up back in the outhouse."

"I don't care. I'm hungry."

Slim wouldn't remind Jess of this statement thirty minutes after the dishes were put away and the front door was given a slam. The curtain slightly parted, Slim's head went into a shake. Just as he predicted, Jess was back in the outhouse. But before the lacy edge could fall back to its closed position, Slim's eyes narrowed a bit.

Was that movement, there upon the hill?

Night had been mingling long enough with the last of the daylight that a few of the brightest diamonds had come out of hiding. These sparks amid the darkening blue wouldn't help Slim find his answer. While the yard itself was clearly visible, the brush above it had blended with their shadows, making everything on the hillside too dark for Slim's gaze to penetrate. Likely it was nothing. But then again, dusk was the perfect hour for coyotes to wander. And Slim knew this to be true for both four-legged and those that pranced around on two.

Picking up his rifle, Slim stepped onto the porch and let the long nose peer out ahead of him. Silence all around him, his senses became so prickled he quickly grew the dots of fear all across his skin. It was too quiet. Even the wind seemed to have stopped at that precise moment as if to warn him of an intruder.

It definitely could be, what with their lives hanging on a delicate line. It was only yesterday that someone had tried to drown the ranch partners in a bath of poison. Today had been absent of threat, but that didn't mean the entire twenty-four hours would reach its end before another attempt would be made. This right here could be it. Or Slim could merely be jumpy. He had already drawn his gun on his own shadow twice. Maybe it was time for number three, for at that moment, something rustled near the outhouse.

The Farmer's Almanac hanging on a nail inside the outhouse door was used for multiple purposes. While Slim would often read the pages during his time in privacy, Jess would tear them, use them, and then crumple them up. Slim could have easily been listening to the paper being wadded. Likely Jess' frustration at being sick so often was bubbling louder than what his belly was producing and those used sheets could resemble a rubber ball by now. And that meant the noise had a valid explanation that should have satisfied Slim's aggravated nerves.

Except, that thought didn't feel right. Something felt different in that sound. In fact, something felt extremely wrong all around him. Another second of silence went by and then the same noise crackled near the outhouse's frame.

Heart rapidly pounding in his chest and everywhere else, Slim cleared his throat so that there would be more sound on his tongue other than his internal thrum. "Jess?"

He heard his name and looked up. "Whattya want? I'm kinda busy at the moment."

With his stomach in a protest, Jess' pants remained bunched at the top of his boots. Not exactly the best position to be in when Slim called, but he wasn't ready to rip out the page bearing last winter's failed forecast yet. And along with the gurgles popping and spewing a storm inside his belly, it only increased his annoyance that Slim didn't answer him right away.

"Dadgummit, Slim. Are you seriously gonna make me poke my head through the door before I'm finished?"

Letting the almanac out of his hand, Jess touched the doorknob and his fingers immediately leapt to seek comfort in his middle. It felt as if he had tucked a glowing piece of charcoal in his palm. Sniffing, the quells that were attacking his insides suddenly leapt to his outer surface and Jess started to shake. Smoke was seeping in through every crack. The outhouse was on fire!

On his feet, Jess flung the door wide, but there wasn't merely a crackle and spit gnawing at one corner of the outhouse. There was an entire circle of flames climbing up and over the small structure. As he tried to escape the torture that should only exist in his nightmares, Jess tripped over his lowered pants and fell flat into the flames. The scream was quick to be changed into a cough, for his lungs, his throat, his entire face felt as if it was going to turn to ashes. In one blink he expected to become the consistency of the dust, but he would have to endure hell's wrath first. And it was right there upon him. His blue shirt turned bright orange. Scrambling through the painful bursts, Jess tried to reach the dry dirt to roll away the burns that were threatening to consume him.

But then a miracle fell from the sky. A bucket of water crashed over his body.

Looking through the rain, Jess saw his partner rush through the clouds of smoke. "Slim!"

Grabbing Jess' arm, Slim hauled him upright. "You all right?"

"I reckon," Jess answered as he patted his shirt, now tattered with the kind of holes no moth could ever chew, but it was in that gesture that he suddenly realized his pants were still sitting well below their normal line. "Dadgummit."

Jess' blush wasn't necessary, for Slim wasn't looking at him anyway. His gaze, his rifle, both were pointing toward the hillside, for this time the sound and sight was distinct. Someone was running through the brush.

"Up there!" Slim's shout made Jess spin and at the same moment, slap his hand against his hip.

"I ain't armed!"

Slim shoved the rifle in Jess' clasp. "Here!"

With Slim's sidearm in his grip and the rifle securely in Jess' possession, they peppered the hillside with lead. But they weren't alone in their firing. From the protecting lines of a tree trunk, a gun was pointing back at them. The fire illuminating a pair of sturdy profiles, the incoming shells raced in a straighter aim than what Slim and Jess could toss upward, making both men perform a wild dash to the water trough. Bullets following their every step, they crashed to the ground before one of them could do more than run behind them.

"Can you tell if there's one or two up there?"

"One, I think," Slim answered. "That's what's bothering me. Where's the other?"

"Breathing down our necks, I reckon. Dadgum, it feels mighty hot under my collar."

Slim looked at the outhouse. There wasn't much left of its frame, but the boards that had collapsed over the dugout hole would remain dancing with color for the rest of the night, and the tendrils of smoke that spoke of its internal heat, even longer. That could have easily been the source of Jess' agitation, that and his memories mixed with his current burns, but then it felt as if a fingertip directly out of Hades was tickling Slim's neck.

The heat now accentuated with a crackle, Slim turned toward the house. It was fully alight!

His heartbeat might very well be there inside of him, but his entire life was in that house and the need to save even the tiniest shred of his past made Slim jump up. A bullet hitting his arm put him right back on the ground.

"How bad is it?" Jess asked, not even turning to look at how much blood poured out of his partner as he was trying to make his own strike in return.

"I'll make it. But the house…"

There was no sob in Slim's throat, but the hitch was enough to pull Jess' eyes away from his hidden target. Yes, he saw the flames leaping for joy as they devoured the front of the house. Even at that moment, the rocking chair that had soothed more aches than Jess could count had been reduced to a red skeleton. But while he could have remained stuck on this scene, it was the pools of blue that grabbed Jess' focus and held on tight.

"I'll go," Jess said and as his boots started scooting over the dirt, he felt Slim's hand clamp onto his arm.

"Don't get yourself killed. It's not worth it."

"You know I'd rather die fighting. What's the difference if I'm fighting man or beast?"

Hearing glass break—or was that his soul shattering?—Slim nodded. "Go, Jess. I'll do my best to keep them pinned down."

The rifle left in Slim's care, he used the remaining bites of lead to give Jess the necessary running room. When Slim heard the splash of water against the flames, he knew Jess had made it. But he couldn't stop pressing the trigger. As Jess would be running back and forth between the pump and the front door, his every step would keep him wide open to the man on the hill. And wherever the other one sat.

Slim suspected that he was close. He had to be, what with how he had snuck in and lit the porch on fire. He lifted his head to search for that second position, but then a bullet came close enough to Slim's skull that the lock of hair that curved over his forehead was given a trim. Arm reaching out to offer a close shave in return, Slim's finger made his gun click. Empty. His back against the trough, Slim reloaded his six-shooter, fearing with every breath that the lack of lead coming from this side of the fight meant Jess was going to go down right in front of him.

He did fall, but it was only Jess' boots skidding over the wet boards, not that his body was reacting to getting hit and Slim released a long breath of relief. But then he sucked in the next dose of air sharply. A bullet smacked into the bucket in Jess' hands, making a leak immediately spring to the ground. Not that any of the lead was deemed a comfortable distance away, but these were coming close enough that each new piece could be hammering their coffins together. At least Slim was fully loaded again and he propped to his knees, hoping with the next pull of the trigger that he wasn't just giving a close call in return, but an exact hit.

Wincing as another bullet threatened his existence, Jess rushed back to where the shades of orange were stretching up the support posts. He had already knocked one side down, but there was still a particularly strong lick going upward. If it reached the roof, the fight would significantly shift in favor of the fury.

He glanced at Slim. That was a different kind of fight that could make a sudden shift. It was two against one. While Jess had kept his blue darting back and forth between the hill and where Slim hunkered down, he hadn't been able to pinpoint where the second man hid. But he was out there. The close calls proved that. And at that moment, there came another bullet teasing Jess' flesh.

He spun out of its way, but in the escape of sudden death, Jess lost control of the bucket. Its contents spilled over ground that wasn't even on fire. Back to the pump, Jess watched as the flames found momentum as they reached the top of the porch and rippled toward the sky. He was going to aim straight for that spot, but as he ran toward it, Jess expected someone else to make an aim straight for him.

Hearing the blast, Jess pulled the bucket closer to his waist and ducked down. He couldn't lose two in a row or the fire would be beyond his ability to tame. Only a slosh coming over the rim to wet Jess' legs, he flung the water straight above him. The wave slapping the roof, it rushed across the shingles, stealing enough of the hunger out of the flames that it couldn't take another bite.

Hurrying back to the pump, Jess made a rapid refill and then doused the same place again. While the flames continued to flicker, it would never regain its power. The next splash would claim victory over the fire, yet it would take its stance even further, pouring over the charred wood so that even the red flecks of coals dissipated with a hiss. Smoke circling him, Jess' shoulders took on a weary droop as he coughed out what he had swallowed. But just as he thought the heat was dying back, a different kind of fire whizzed past him. Two times. And then an even closer third.

"That does it!" Jess shouted into the shadows.

Poison, fire, bullets, he had endured enough threats of death from an unnamed man, for an unknown reason. That would end right now.

Arm reaching through the broken glass of the front door, Jess grabbed for the belt that was hanging on the peg. Out of the holster with the speed of a gunfighter's draw, Jess aimed for the brush, giving his reputation an even higher mark by letting the bullets out of his gun too fast for even a trained ear to count. And then everything went quiet.

Looking to Slim, he found his partner's blue already on him. "You all right?"

He motioned to his arm. "Just this."

Walking toward each other, they met in the middle and stared into the darkness. They had to have downed them both. Yes, the two guns could have decided to play possum, they could have even turned into chicken livers and fled the scene, but the stillness said otherwise. It was too eerie, like they were standing amid a group of tombstones on a moonless night.

Jess looked up. There really wasn't a moon hanging up there with the stars. But as he also saw a column of smoke smudging up the twinkling lights, Jess spun back toward the house. Nothing had built back up again. It was only the remnants, the scent, but with the fire dying down, the bullets the same, the rush of adrenaline in Jess' veins was over. In its place was fear, the memories, so much fear.

Turning back toward the house, Jess' body shook so hard that he couldn't reach his hand out to touch the only support post that survived the flames. "Dadgum."

"Not enough is damaged to fret over, Jess. We can rebuild the porch easily, and the window panes, that's less than ten dollars each."

"It ain't that."

Slim looked at his partner, certain that he saw tears, but also certain that he would never tell Jess that it was more than sweat making his cheeks glisten. "What's the matter, Jess?"

"Fire always turns me into someone I don't wanna be."

"What's that?"

"A fifteen year old kid again."

The understanding made Slim's hand reach out to Jess' shoulder and give a comforting clap. "You don't have to explain further, Jess."

"Thanks," Jess said, but while he did release a sigh, it didn't have enough strength to stuff his memories back into his core. Likely they would haunt him for the rest of this night, maybe even further. It would help if there wasn't anything else to tamper with his nerves, like more bullets taking a vital aim. "Let's make sure we ain't gotta do another round with those fellas."

Starting at the fence line that ran along the roadway, it wasn't long before their boots came to a stop. A group of newspapers, some wadded, some still in their original form, sat under a bush. A box of matches was only a foot further away. Reaching down to pick them up, Slim's hand made a sudden change in position.

"Over there," he said with a point.

Seeing the sprawled form, Jess knelt along his side to place a hand against the bloodied chest. "He's dead."

"Looks like you got the one playing with matches."

"Yeah, somebody shoulda warned him that the more you play with those things, the more likely it is you're gonna get burned. You figure the other one's just as bad off?"

"Hope so. He was up the hill a ways."

They both climbed with their guns drawn and hammers back, but neither weapon was necessary to be pointing them onward. The second gunman really was as bad off as the first, although maybe he could be called the worse. Two bullet holes had marred his front.

The gun dropping into his belt line, Jess looked at Slim. "It's over."

But it really wasn't. There was something rather important that needed to be said and done before Jess' statement could become written in stone.

Slim had already taken a look at the pale cheeks, yet he pushed the dark hat aside to get a better look at the stranger's face. "I wonder who they are."

"Professionals."

"I'm sure you're right, Jess. But who sent them?"

"I dunno. Might be kinda wise to go through their pockets, you know, so we know who to thank for all this fun we've been having."

Slim's fingers making the dive toward the man's vest, he felt the bulge and pulled. "He's got a letter on him."

"What's it say?"

The page letting loose of its fold, Slim read the few lines and swallowed the lump that had quickly built in his throat. "Vale."

"That don't make any sense, Slim. They're all dead."

Slim shook his head. "One's left."

"Indians got Carl and Luke. You got Kenny. Dadgummit, Slim, there ain't any more Vales to get back at us."

"There is. Mrs. Vale."