Howdy once again!

A short and sweet chapter here (well, not so sweet…) to finish up the ideas of chapter 11. The last one was getting a little long so I decided to split them up. Stay tuned for the next installment! We're getting towards the end now, folks!

Chasing Strays Ch 12

"And there's a judge comin' by today to take a look at things, but he ain't takin' me away, that's for sure. I'm stayin' with Slim and Jess, they take good care of me, honest, and I know they'll take good care of you too!"

"Mike!" Slim barked from the kitchen, "For the last time, Mike, leave Mrs. Cooper alone to rest. Go outside and find something to do."

"I gotta go," he heard Mike whisper, none to quietly, before the boy trotted out to the kitchen. "Awe, Slim, I just wanted to let her know what was goin' on, she likes my stories, honest she does," he said, but Slim had had enough. With no other stages going back to town today, he was left with three overnight guests, a judge still on his way, and precious little patience.

"Go on, Mike, git," he said, jerking his head toward the side door as he slid a ham sandwich onto a plate. "Outside. Go back to your tree climbing or something, but please try to stay clean."

Mike's "Okay," sounded a little dejected, but he did follow Slim's instructions. Slim vowed to make it up to the kid once the judge and everyone else had gone. Jess should be back soon, he reminded himself, looking forward to his help. I just gotta make it 'til then.

"Here's the meal you asked for, Doc, and some cold water," Slim said, walking back into Mike's room. He handed both to the doc, who set them on the bedside table.

Mrs. Cooper smiled up at him. "Oh thank you, Mr. Sherman," she said, her voice brimming with gratitude. "I'm sorry to put you to so much trouble. I promise I'll be alright in no time."

The doc looked skeptical as he felt her forehead for fever, but her words melted right through Slim's frustration. He smiled back. "Don't you worry about it, ma'am," he told her. "You're welcome here as long as it takes to get your strength back."

The cowhand, Pete Johnson, Slim reminded himself, shifted the saddlebags slung over his shoulder uncomfortably. He looked decidedly out of place in their impromptu sick room.

"Mr. Johnson, you're welcome to put your things in the bunkhouse if you'd like. It's not much, but there should be some blankets out there. Over dinner we can talk more about that job," Slim offered. "I'm sorry we haven't had much of a chance yet."

The man glanced at the doctor before looking back to Slim. "No problem," he said, with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'll just head out there now."

As he brushed past Slim on his way out, Slim couldn't help but think he was missing something. He caught himself chewing the inside of his cheek again, suddenly unsettled by something he couldn't quite put his finger on, but sure this man wasn't being entirely forthcoming. He decided right there and then that this Pete Johnson wasn't someone he wanted hanging around the place and resolved to tell him over dinner. After all, he'd already planned to hire on the Bateses for the branding job, so telling this man he didn't need another hand wasn't even a lie. Jess would be home soon, and by the morning, Pete Johnson would be on his way.

Shortly after he heard the front door slam shut, several things happened at once:

The far-off crack of a rifle caught Slim's attention, followed immediately by a sickening swoop in his gut that felt like falling. Twin flares of fear sliced through his mental wall, one from his bond with Jess and one from his bond with Mike. An out loud shriek from Mike, just as loud as his mental cry, had Slim lunging for the door before the echoes of the initial shot faded.

An iron grip and cold steel against the back of his neck stopped Slim in his tracks.

"Hold it right there, Mr. Sherman," said the doc, his voice as cold as the gun in his hand. "Nothing outside concerns you right now."

Slim pinched his eyes shut and ground his teeth together. His stomach rolled. How could he have misjudged the situation so spectacularly? For the moment, he did as the man said and held stock still. He focused on forcing air through his lungs while he tried to think of how to get to Mike. He was purposely not thinking about Jess yet, and he was not thinking about the rifle shot he'd heard. He was absolutely not thinking about the silence from his bonds, or the fact that both his sentinels must be either zoned or unconscious. One crisis at a time. His heart pounded and his mind raced.

"What is the meaning of this! You put that gun away, young man, right this instant, and unhand Mr. Sherman!"

Slim could hardly believe the fire in Mrs. Cooper's voice. Weak as she was and struggling to sit up, her voice still held a note of command that would rival most military officers and foremen. It was truly remarkable. He appreciated her efforts, but in this case, he didn't think it would make much difference.

He was right.

"None of this concerns you either, ma'am," the doc, who Slim now realized was probably not a doctor at all, said to her. His tone was calm and controlled, much too professional to be anything but an experienced gun-for-hire. "We've got no quarrel with you. Fact is, you were a better distraction than we could have dreamed of. You stay right there in that bed and you won't be harmed." The gun never strayed and his grip didn't slacken.

Mrs. Cooper opened her mouth again, but Slim broke his silence first.

"Better listen to him," he said quietly, trying to hold his composure. He didn't have the stomach to see a helpless elderly woman shot.

Thankfully, Mrs. Cooper closed her mouth without a sound.

With a nudge and a gruff "Move it," the gunman ushered Slim out of the room and towards the front door. There was a rifle by the door! Slim knew it was there, mostly hidden by his jacket and hat. If he could just distract the man long enough… His gloved hands twitched in anticipation. Just two more steps and he'd have his chance.

He never made it.

Slim didn't even have time for a final thought as the gun butt slammed into the back of his head and the floor rushed up to meet him.

-Laramie-

"Any trouble with the extra?" the man in the suit asked as they rode up.

"Nah, none at all. Worked like a cinch, just like the man said," came the answer. "He's layin' down by the crick, ain't moved at all since 'ole Jack put a slug in 'im. I see you got both 'a yours?"

"Easy as pie," the third man answered, cocky and self-assured. "The kid here was already tree'd when I went out to get him, and this one hasn't stirred once. Sam saw to that."

The kid in question, held in place in front of the man, didn't stir either.

"Alright, alright," the man in the suit said. "We can pat ourselves on the back later, after we get paid. We've spent too much time on this two-bit job anyway. Jack still in position?"

The man nodded.

"Let's head on over to the shack, then, and get things ready. Our guest should be getting' there any time now, and I don't want him gettin' the drop on us."

The three men headed off along the ridge, crossed the stream, and soon met up with a fourth man. He slipped his rifle back into its scabbard and fell into line behind the group as they rode off.

No one saw them go, except for the dark-haired man at the bottom of a gully watching silently through his eyelashes.