Breath Of Winter Part 2
Daisy pulled me aside when we finished. “I tried to make up the bed in the spare room for Doctor Masters,” she whispered. “I just hope he doesn’t mind not having any sheets on the mattress.”
“If he’s half as tired as I am, Daisy, he could curl up on the floor with nothing but his arm for a pillow,” and I had to cover my own massive yawn.
Daisy patted my arm. “I’m sure you’re right. Well…” she breathed. “I’m going to bed, even though it’s closer to getting-up time. I don’t think I can hold my eyes open much longer.”
“You go; I’ll show the doctor where to bed down. And thank you, Daisy,” I said, leaned down and gave her kiss on the cheek.
She twittered and fussed and her face got red, but she hugged me in return and hurried into her room.
I didn’t even bother to turning off any lanterns, I was just too exhausted, but when I opened the bedroom door, expecting to find Dr. Masters still bending over Jess, I found the doctor half-reclining, half-sitting on the bottom of the bunk-beds, the place Mike had decided to take instead of the extra room.
A lamp, turned down low, was on the small table on the other side of Jess’ bed and I paused long enough to watch his peaceful face and listen to him breathe – there was just a slight “rattle” to his inhale-exhale – before I went to the doctor, removed his half-boots, moved his stocking feet onto the bed and covered him with a blanket that still had a couple of pieces of straw attached. I only took the time to take off my scarf, hat, boots and gun-belt before I stretched out on my bed.
March 13th,: late morning
Voices intruded on my dream. I tried to roll over on my right side away from the noise, only my left arm wouldn’t budge, like something was holding it. I attempted to pull it out and noticed an uncomfortable lump under my back and side, too. I groaned, rolled to my left side again and managed to pry my eyelids open…
Jess was looking at me from his bed. He smiled, whisper-croaked, “’Mornin’, Pard.”
I pushed myself up and realized I’d worn the heavy sheepskin coat to bed and the bunched up leather was what had immobilized my arm. I unbuttoned it and shrugged it off, stood up to totter to the side of Jess’ bed.
“Good morning yourself, Pard,” I managed, though my voice was rough and full of gravel. “How are you feeling?”
“A little cold,” Jess quirked a brow, “like someone stripped me buck-naked maybe?”
I grinned at that. “Sorry; you were wet and half frozen, we had to get you warm and dry in a hurry.”
“We? Who…” Jess started, then closed his eyes and groaned, “Oh, lord… You mean Daisy…?” He rolled his head from side to side in slow denial. “I swear if you ever say anything about this to anyone, I’ll shoot you myself. You could’a left me a little self-respect by doin’ it all yourself . . . Pard.”
My grin suddenly became a huge yawn.
“Long night?”
I rubbed sleep-curst from my eyes. “You might say…”
Jess smiled, opened his mouth and took a breath to add something… Instead, he coughed hard and tried to curl up as the pain hit.
I put his hand on Jess’ chest. “Lie still! I’ll get the doctor…”
But the spell was already winding down to shallow breaths taken between his teeth. His face was awfully pale again, but he shook his head and managed, “Doc . . . left . . . early.”
“He what?”
I’d already noticed Mike’s bed was empty, but I hadn’t expected Dr. Masters to just rush off without another word.
Jess’ muscles relaxed as the pain went back to wherever it had come from. “He checked . . . me over good . . . before he left,” he answered between panting.
“What’d he say?”
Jess squinted at me and scowled. “Said I’d . . . prob’ly live,” and swallowed with a hollow click. “…Thirsty.”
There was a glass and a small pitcher on the table on the other side of the bed. I hurried around to it and poured the glass two-thirds full, then helped raise Jess’ head as well as hold the glass so he could drink.
He came up for air, said, “Thanks,” in an exhausted voice, waved a weak hand at me when I attempted to help him drink more.
I laid Jess’ head back on the pillows and put the glass on the table so I could adjust the covers over his chest. “Better?”
Jess nodded. “Kind’a tired now…” he said, smiled faintly and closed his eyes.
He was out in a second and I wondered if the doctor hadn’t put something in the water. But it didn’t matter; Jess was back, alive and on the mend and that was all that I cared about right now.
“Welcome home, Jess,” I whispered, adjusted the covers a bit more and went back around to gather my holstered pistol, boots, hat and scarf from the floor and my coat from the bed. I opened the door…
Daisy jumped back from it as if she’d been about to come in, then asked quietly, “Did I hear Jess coughing?”
I closed the door as gently as I could. “Just a bit, but he’s fine now. I gave him a drink of water and he went back to sleep.
“Daisy, where’s Doctor Masters? Jess said he’d gone.”
She nodded. “He was up early and told me he had to get back to town.”
“Well… Didn’t I hear someone talking a little while ago?”
Daisy “tsked,” shook her head and pulled me farther from the bedroom door so our voices wouldn’t disturb Jess. “Oh, that was Mose… I think the poor man is going deaf, he doesn’t know what ‘whisper’ means.”
“More likely,” Mike said in a lowered voice as he walked into the room from the kitchen area, “he’s just used to yelling at his teams,” and grinned at Slim. “’Mornin’,” he said and added brightly, “The doctor talked to me this morning.”
“Well, good morning to you both,” I grumbled and set my boots down by the end of the table. “I was hoping to ask Doctor Masters some questions, didn’t expect him to just . . . run off. When did he say he’d be back?”
Daisy propped fists on her hips, huffed and gave me a disapproving frown before she turned her back on me and walked toward the kitchen. “Tomorrow,” she tossed back over her shoulder before she disappeared around the corner.
I grabbed a breath, let it out in a hiss and walked to the rack to hang up my coat and everything else, my stocking feet whispering across the floor. I paused again after taking care of that chore and frowned at Mike. “If that was Mose I heard, who changed the teams?”
“I helped,” Mike said proudly.
“All right, but… I didn’t hear him leave.” I parted the curtain on the door to look out into the sun-struck and very deserted yard.
Daisy walked back into the room with a cup balanced on its saucer, set it down at my place at the table. “Oh, I threatened never to bake another pie when he was on a run if he wasn’t quiet pulling out of the yard this time,” Daisy said with a dip of her head. “At least he understood that.”
Their cheerfulness was getting to me, but I just stumbled back to my chair and fell into it, propped my elbows on the wood and ran fingers through my unkempt hair while trying to control another massive yawn. “You two are awfully bright and cheerful today in spite of that . . . late night. When did you get up?”
Daisy leaned her left hand on the table and pointed a right finger at the coffee. “And you, Mister Sherman, are full of silly questions. Drink you coffee and wake up,” she ordered. “I’ll bring your breakfast as soon as you have your first cup down and your boots on,” and she turned back to the kitchen with a swirl of skirts.
“Yes, Ma’am,” I mumbled and lifted the cup to my lips like the “boss” ordered. It was hot and it was strong . . . and it started to clear the cobwebs out of my brain before I finished it.
Mike came to sit at Jess’ side of the table as I put on my boots. “And what have you done besides help Mose change the team today, Mike?”
The boy shrugged. “I made the coffee and fried up some bacon.”
I raised a brow at him before I continued fighting with my footgear. “Are you planning on taking Aunt Daisy’s place?” I grinned at him.
Mike gave me a sour look. “No,” he said defensively. “She said I should start learning to do some other things besides just taking care of horses and playing with Buttons.”
I finally managed to wriggle into the boot and sat up. “Well, that’s good; a man should know how to make a good cup of coffee and fix himself breakfast.”
“Yeah,” Mike sighed and traced a small knot in the table’s top with a finger. “That’s what she said. I just hope she doesn’t decide I need to learn to wash clothes.”
“But that’s just as important a thing to learn,” Daisy said, bringing out a plate with five strips of bacon and three sunny-side up eggs, another smaller plate holding two large biscuits in her other hand. She set both down in front of me and stood back, obviously waiting for me to say something other than, “Thanks.”
I looked up at her, then at the plates, asked, “Where’s the silverware?”
“Slim Sherman,” she growled and put her fists on her hips again. “You tell Mike I’m right, then you get your fork and knife. And the butter.”
I gave the boy my most serious look. “Mike, men have to learn to keep their clothes clean, too. And themselves,” I added.
Mike cocked a brow at me, glanced back at Daisy. “Are you sure?”
“Who do you think washed the clothes and other things before you and Aunt Daisy came along?”
Mike looked back at me and shrugged. “Jess?”
Daisy suddenly found an excuse to hurry back to the kitchen, but I heard her trying to hold back what I first perceived were sobs, but decided she was laughing instead. And it was kind of funny, thinking about how Jess did his laundry sometimes.
She finally brought a fork, knife and the butter and I dug in.
Mike sat there and watched me shovel food into my mouth for a bit, then announced that Aunt Daisy had him washing dishes again before he left me alone to finish.
It was about the best breakfast I’d had in a long time . . . or maybe it was partly because of all the good news received when I’d opened my eyes and saw Jess smiling at me this morning.
Daisy peeked around the corner, asked, “Are you about ready for seconds?”
My mouth was full so I just nodded and grabbed the second biscuit.
In a moment, Daisy came back with another plate with two more eggs and four more pieces of bacon on it. She also brought the pot to fill my empty coffee cup. But instead of taking my dirty plate and returning to the kitchen where it sounded like Mike was being real careful not to make too much noise, she paused and set the plate and pot down.
I looked up and quirked a brow in question.
“I told Mose about what happened,” she said in a quiet voice. “He said he’d send a message to Sheriff Cory as soon as he got to the next telegraph, but I’m sure Doctor Masters would have already stopped by his office this morning.”
I nodded, answered, “Good,” around another mouth full – lordy, I was so hungry I couldn’t seem to get it down fast enough!
Daisy placed both hands on the table top and leaned closer. “Doctor Masters examined Jess this morning…”
I nodded and said around the bite I’d just taken, “Jess told me the doctor had looked at him,” then glanced up to see the look on Daisy’s face… And all of a sudden I wasn’t starving any more. I swallowed what I had in my mouth, asked, “What’d he tell you, Daisy?”
Daisy looked down at me, her lips thin. “He said . . . he was doing surprisingly well for someone who’d been out in the cold so long last night and had lost so much blood…”
“And? What else is wrong?”
I guess I’d asked a bit too strongly because Daisy’s lips quivered and her eyes filled with tears.
“Oh, Slim… I’m just so . . . thankful!” she answered in a stifled voice.
That wasn’t what I’d expected, but it was a reprieve from the unwanted information I’d feared to hear. She was just expressing relief and that I could well understand.
I laid my fork down, carefully moved the chair back, stood and gathered her into my arms. “I know, Daisy… I… You just kind of . . . scared me a second, thinking you were going to… Well, never mind.”
“I’m sorry,” she wept into my shirt. “You and Jess are like sons to me and I almost couldn’t bear seeing him lying there so stricken…” She grabbed a breath and decided to say no more.
I looked over her shoulder and there was Mike, standing just around the corner with a pot in his hand and the dishrag in the other, water gathering in two little puddles at his feet and tears sparkling just behind his eyes. But of course Daisy and I hadn’t been alone in our fear.
I indicated Mike should join us and the boy just set the pot down and put the rag inside it, wiped his hands on the apron he wore before he joined in the “group hug of the mutually thankful.”
Now all we needed to understand was “why” it happened at all…
But that was Sheriff Cory’s line of work.
All at once I got this “picture” in my head and let out a chuckle that caused both Mike and Daisy to step back and look oddly at me.
Only I just couldn’t quite wipe the grin off my face.
“I was just wondering,” I sputtered, “what Jess would think if he walked out and saw us all right now!” and had to cover my mouth.
It took Daisy a bit longer before she caught the gist of what I’d said and that “vision” as well, then she had to cover her face with her apron before she laughed out loud.
Mike swiped the tears from his eyes and moved farther away. He looked worried. “What’s so funny?” he asked.
But we couldn’t tell Mike we’d both “pictured” Jess standing in the doorway with that puzzled look he sometimes got on his face, that left eyebrow tilted up . . . and as bare as the day he’d been born!
The boy would never have understood that as a joke!
…
Jess woke up again a little before noon and called me in to help him “take care of some business.” After, he asked if he could have something to eat. Daisy had already boiled a chicken – another casualty when Mose had thundered into of the yard this morning – for just this purpose and served him the broth. Her patient wasn’t exactly excited over that, but after the first sip, he consumed every spoonful she gave him and asked for more. Only he was asleep before she came back with another portion. She just tucked him in again, laid her wrist against his forehead to check for fever, grinned at me before I followed her out, and took the soup back to purposefully set the bowl, covered with a towel, on the back of the stove.
I asked her why and she showed me the small unlabeled bottle Dr. Masters had given her. She was to put two drops into whatever he ate or drank to minimize any fever as well as help him sleep. I had been wondering if the water I’d given Jess also had been laced with this Iroquois “medicine” from Canada, but Daisy said no, it shouldn’t be wasted on “non-sick” people and Mike might have taken a drink of that water before he could be warned. It wouldn’t “hurt” anyone not ill, but it would make them sleepy.
About two hours later, Sheriff Cory rode up into the bright and warm yard and parked his horse at the hitch-rail. I met him on the porch and gave him all the information we had, including the slug Dr. Masters had retrieved from Jess’ back, which wasn’t much of a clue. Then Mort and I went inside where the air was filled with the aroma of one of Daisy’s famous apple pies. (“You always manage to know when I’ve baked a pie, Sheriff Cory,” she teased, then set him down with a warm piece she’d already cut for him.)
Jess had roused again by the time Mort had finished his treat – but he wasn’t very happy when Daisy told him he wasn’t ready to eat a piece of pie yet. The Sheriff realized he shouldn’t take too much of Jess’ time and after the preliminary “good-to-see-you” and “how-are-you,” Mort got down to business.
“Do you know what happened, Jess?”
Jess, all propped up and comfortable, his left arm in a sling, had a cup of water in his right hand (easier for him to handle). He leaned over a bit, grimaced and took a sip. He shook his head when he came up again. “All I remember is fightin’ the snow that started blowin’ in my face, stoppin’ to tie m’hat down with my scarf at the bottom of the hill. I didn’t see anyone or hear anyone, sure didn’t hear any gunshots. Next thing I know, I was on the cold ground and Traveler was standing over me. I knew I’d been shot, just not how bad… Anyway, I coaxed him closer, managed to get both reins in my hands and tried to pull myself up by the stirrup. Just couldn’t do it, left arm was near useless,” and he raised his slung arm, grimaced and relaxed. “Right wasn’t much better, so I tried to tie Traveler’s reins. I guess I did it, he got home anyway, but I don’t remember tossin’ ‘em over his head. I was kind of in and out… And it was so dang cold with that snow comin’ down so hard! Then . . . I woke up here with Doctor Masters standin’ over me this mornin’.” He didn’t try to shrug, but gave that impression by cocking his head. “Sure would like someone to get me some clothes, though,” he added and gave me a stern look of reprimand.
Mort just laughed and shook his head. “As long as you stay in bed and don’t scare any Overland passengers by parading around, I can’t help you there. But can you tell me if you saw any . . . suspicious characters, in Medicine Bow or any other place along the road?”
Jess lowered head to take another sip of water – it was easier than raising the cup to his lips and didn’t hurt his shoulder and back as much. He seemed to consider the question a long moment before shaking his head. “Not that I remember. Only thing I recall is following some men out of Bosler down that old road that goes near James Lake. That was in the morning, before the storm came in. But I never saw their faces, only caught sight of their backs. They were movin’ fast, like they needed to be somewhere, so I figured they worked at some ranch near and wanted to get home before dark.”
“How many men?”
“Three, or four maybe? Mostly just saw their dust after I topped the trail out of town. Why?”
Mort sat back and gave me a peculiar look before turning back to Jess. “Bosler’s Sheriff, Harvey Humphries, just sent word that he thought he’d spotted the Winter brothers around town.”
“Winter brothers?” I asked. “I recall the name, but…” and shrugged.
Jess shook his head; he didn’t know them.
Mort smiled. “Well… It’s a long story, but if you’re interested…”
Jess nodded.
“The three brothers and a cousin named Gary Lowrey started their careers in Montana taking a few unbranded calves from different spreads and slapping their unregistered brand, the Circled Tripple-W, on them. Some rancher got suspicious when one of those recently branded calves wandered back to its Flying-CF mama. Somehow the brothers and their cousin got wind there was a territorial Marshal with a warrant coming for them and they moved into South Dakota right quick. There they tried to steal horses the same way without altering that brand of theirs. Guess they didn’t think the Montana territorial Marshal would spread the news of their larceny beyond his own borders, but the moment anyone started noticing missing foals and the new brand…” Mort lifted his hands as a “there-you-go” gesture. “They pulled up stakes again, this time going south to Nebraska. I guess by that time the four boys decided they needed a better and faster way to get money and started robbing banks and stages. They got pretty good at that and took close to two-hundred-thousand in a couple of years; not anything like Jesse James or the Younger Gangs have been doing in Missouri now, but not bad for those boys. And they didn’t do any unwarranted shooting, either, and never deliberately killed anyone during a robbery . . . until their cousin got blasted out of his boots by the shotgun guard during a stage holdup. The brothers went crazy and killed everyone on that stage, including a woman and her twelve year old son…”
I snapped my fingers and interrupted… “That’s where I heard the name, ‘Winter.’ I read about that and it kind of worried me because Andy wasn’t far off that age then…
“That was some time before you came along, Jess,” I added and glanced at my partner.
Jess nodded like he was falling asleep, closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the propped up pillows.
I took the cup from his relaxing hand before he spilled the remaining water all over the blanket, leaned over and placed the cup within easy reach on the table and made sure the blanket was secured over him. I dipped my head, indicating Mort and I should leave.
Daisy was sitting in the rocker in front of the fireplace – it was warm enough not to have a fire yet – and stood up with one of Jess’ shirt she was mending in her hands. “Did you learn anything important, Sheriff?”
Mort smiled. “I either bored him to sleep or he didn’t have anything specific he could tell me, Misses Cooper. But I think I got all the information he had to give right now. He might remember something else later, though.” He turned to include me in the conversation and asked, “I don’t suppose either of you might have heard someone ride through the yard during that storm?”
Daisy and I shook our heads and I added, “I think Buttons would have barked or something if he’d heard any horses even with the wind as strong as it was. He heard Traveler coming in before that lull in the wind alerted us, Daisy.”
“I believe he did; yes,” she answered and nodded.
Mort scratched the back of his head. “Well… We know the Winter brothers were in the area at least. Maybe they figured Jess had recognized them from Nebraska wanted posters and was following them for the reward.”
Daisy placed a hand on Mort’s sleeve. “You think that’s all it was? They mistook Jess for a bounty hunter who was coming after them?”
“You know about the Winter brothers, Misses Cooper?”
She nodded. “I read the newspapers just as much and as often as I can today as I did in the past, Sheriff Cory. The article was in the Kansas City Herald. What they did to that poor little boy and his mother...” she shook her head.
“Where do you think they could have gone after they shot Jess? I mean, if they did it?” I asked.
Mort lifted his hands. “So far they’re the only suspects I have that might have been in the area, Slim. Have you got any other people in mind, anyone who’d want to ambush Jess that you know of?”
“We don’t exactly know Jess’ entire past, Mort, but, no; I can think of no one around here who’d do that to him.”
Mort shook his head and turned toward the door for his hat. “As to your first question: I don’t know where they could be now. If I’m thinking of the place you found Jess, there’s more ways to go besides taking the road into Laramie.”
“He was near bottom of a low rise with large rocks along each side.”
“Yeah; I know the place. A lot of caves out there and plenty of blind canyons. I’d have to take every person in and around Laramie just to cover all the suspected places they could have holed up to get out of that storm. Heaven knows where they went as soon as the day turned nice and clear. They could be heading south to the Colorado border, west to Utah or even Canada…
“About the only thing I can do is to send out a bulletin, let all the towns with telegraph know what happened. Maybe someone has seen something,” he said.
“Thank you for coming out, Sheriff Cory.”
“Always a pleasure,” he answered Daisy.
“And you’ll let us know if you get any news?” I asked.
“If I can’t deliver it myself, or the morning stage has already gone through, I’ll send someone right out.”
“Thank you, Mort,” Daisy said again.
Mort smiled and let himself out.
“Well, that wasn’t as productive as I’d like,” I sighed.
“Perhaps not, but we have more of a clue now than we did have.”
“I hope, Daisy,” I answered and went into the kitchen for another cup of coffee.
…
As soon as I’d sent the afternoon stage on its way to Laramie, I decided to have a look at the place where Jess had been ambushed, see if I could find anything that might shed some more light on what happened. But I didn’t want to take Alamo out again so early after that night’s hard and slippery ride, so I brought out the extra saddle horse, a raw-boned, tall ol’ roman-nosed, washed-out-sorrel Mike had named Sandy Bill (he said it was because he had as much “sand” as Wild Bill Hickok, not because of his coloration) and was an easy ride despite his looks. I told Daisy I’d be back by supper and gave disappointed Mike, who had so desperately wanted to come along, a list of chores.
In truth, I wasn’t sure what I’d find out there, but I sure didn’t want to take the chance the Winter brothers might have stayed around in the area. They’d already proved once they had no qualms about killing children…
Sandy Bill took off at a fair clip, not having had a workout for a day or two, and retained this easy gait over the rough, sometimes muddy road for more than a mile until I pulled him down to save his reserve . . . just in case.
I slowed Sandy to a walk as I came up the rocky formations on either side of the road, turned the bend . . . and was surprised to see a dark bay horse tied to a bush at the side of the road. I pulled up and pulled my pistol…
“Slim?” someone said behind me.
I spun Sandy around, but recognized the voice even before I saw Sheriff Cory standing there with his fists on his hips. I let the hammer down and holstered the Colt. “What are you doing out here, Mort?”
Mort smiled. “Well, I was hoping not to get shot,” and grinned harder, “but I’d say I’m probably after the same thing you are: evidence. Besides, I tend to take it personally when a friend of mine gets bushwhacked,” he said and walked out into the road.
“How long have you been out here?” I asked, dismounting to lead Sandy Bill to a convenient hitching-rock out of the way of any traffic that might come along.
“Ever since I left your place. I’m surprised Mose didn’t tell you he’d passed me on the way down.”
“Mose had other things on his mind,” I grinned. “Have you found anything yet?”
Mort reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out three .30-.30 shell casings, jiggled them in his hand. “Almost missed these in those rocks up there,” he pointed to the top of the low hill. “Found them on the left side of the road. This is too good a place for an ambush,” and shook his head.
I turned to look up at those “convenient rocks,” turned back a frown. “But the bullet Doctor Masters removed was a forty-five,” I said and plucked one brass shell casing out of Mort’s palm to scowl at it.
Mort nodded. “I know. And those are Army issue,” he pointed.
“Yeah; I can see that. What is Army issue ammunition doing in civilian hands? Were you made aware of any deserters, or any ordnance or cartridges having been stolen from Fort Laramie, or any other fort for that matter?”
“Nope, but I intend to find out as soon as I can,” Mort answered.
I handed the .30-.30 casing back and turned to walk slowly up the hill to see if there was anything else I might be able to spot that Mort hadn’t.
Mort followed, scanning the ground as well, but when Mort suddenly asked, “Why was Jess in Medicine Bow?” I stopped in the road and turned a curious frown on him.
“Why?”
Mort shrugged. “Just trying to check out any lead I can get, Slim, I’m not trying to get personal.”
I nodded and continued slowly up the hill. “Jess got a letter last month, said it was from an old friend who wanted to see him in Medicine Bow. This ‘old friend’ was coming in on the stage last week and she...”
“’She’?!” Mort interrupted in a shocked voice.
I stopped again, gave him a puzzled look and set my hands on my hips. “Well… Jess never came right out and said it as a ‘she,’ but I got the impression by the way he was acting. He didn’t want to talk about it, just asked for the time off. And he never referred to this person by name or as a ‘he’ or ‘she,’ only as ‘my friend.’ Thought maybe he’d left some little sweetheart back in Texas and she’d come looking for him,” I smiled.
Mort chuckled, nodded. “Sounds like Jess; love ‘em and leave ‘em.”
I barked a laugh and continued up the hill as well as with the story. “Anyway, Jess left on a Tuesday two weeks ago and said he’d probably stay in Medicine Bow several days catching up on things, plus three days spent on the trail there, and three days back. That’s all I know.”
“He was gone almost two weeks?” Mort hummed and shook his head. “That must have put you in a bind, I mean keeping up with work and all.”
I shrugged and stopped to toe something in the road that turned out to be nothing more than a rock about the size and shape of a .45 caliber shell-casing. “Not really,” I said, continuing up the slight incline. “Mike’s growing up fast and he can help out quite a bit . . . though he sure doesn’t appreciate cleaning out the barn.”
Mort chuckled. “You know anyone who does like that chore?”
“No, and you can put me on that list, too,” I grinned.
“But it was close to the end of the month and I figured Jess had worked hard enough to give him a few days off, seeing we finally got that south pasture fence mended and our cattle rounded up after that hard winter storm we had earlier last month…” I shrugged. “I told him to have fun and be careful, asked if he needed any money…”
It suddenly hit me what I’d said and I stopped, yanking Mort up as well with a hand on the Sheriff’s arm. “Jess said he didn’t need his wages, Mort.”
“So?” Mort asked and shook his head at my surprise.
“Mort, have you ever known Jess to turn down his wages? Well… Except for that time Misses Dewalt ran away from her husband and conned Jess into taking her to Mexico?”
Mort shook his head and shrugged again, “That must have been when I was off somewhere. Was she pretty?” he teased.
I lifted eyebrows, sighed and nodded. “At least on the outside anyway.”
“Well, then, you’ll have to tell me that story; sounds like a good one.”
“I don’t think that’s mine to tell,” and put my hands on my hips. “That falls under ‘his past,’ and you know how reluctant he is to talk about that.”
Mort looked a bit disappointed, but he nodded, understanding. “Well, I do know he’s never turned down a free drink or a free meal from me or anyone else that I know of. Just what are you getting at?”
I frowned and rubbed the back of my neck, trying to figure out just what I was getting at. I finally just shook my head. “Really, I’m not sure. But it does seem kind of odd, if you think about it. If he was spending time in a big place like Medicine Bow, you’d think he’d need some money, wouldn’t you? I mean, if he intended to stay in town, he’d want a room at the hotel and something to eat now and again, not to mention visiting a saloon or two, maybe do some gambling?”
Mort frowned pensively. “Yeah, that does sound strange,” he answered, added, “unless he had money stashed in the house.”
I quirked a brow. “I suppose he could have kept some wages back, hidden away somewhere under his mattress or under his clean clothes; he’s always been kind of . . . particular about anyone looking through his things and even Daisy folds his clothes and leaves them on the bed for him to put up. Maybe he decided he might spend too much if I gave him another thirty.” I sighed again and hooked my thumbs in my back pockets. “I could ask him.”
“Doesn’t he have an account at the bank?” Mort tossed in. “He said he’d managed to save some since he started working with you, so I just figured he’d keep it in a vault rather than under a mattress.”
Surprised, I dropped my hands and nodded. “As a matter of fact, he does. I happened to walk in the room when he was packing his saddle bags and noticed a small black book on his bed. But he swept it up and out of my sight quickly and then acted down-right angry with me for walking in on him without warning. I just shrugged it off at the time and forgot about it . . . until now.”
“Think I ought to ask the bank manager if Jess withdrew some money before he left?”
I rubbed my knuckles across my jaw, frowned and shook my head. “No; what Jess does with his money, or anything else he has, is his own business. Let’s keep it that way. In fact, maybe I shouldn’t ask about any other money he might have hidden in the house, either. He can get pretty touchy about such things. And like I said, he rarely lets anything from his past slip out.”
Mort stood hip-shot, his thumbs hooked in his belt, and gave me a sidelong look. “When I first saw him in town,” Mort added a bit self consciously as he flicked his badge, “I . . . kind of checked on him and burned up the wires a little. I didn’t like his looks or that low-slung holster he wears, tell you the truth, and I thought you’d lost that good judge of character I’d learned to appreciate,” he quirked a brief smile. “I couldn’t learn much except Jess wasn’t wanted by the law anywhere close, certainly not in Texas where he said he’d come from.”
I crossed my arms and exhaled, “Well… To tell you the truth, I wasn’t impressed with him the first time we met, either. He was trespassing, so I tried to run him off and had my hardware taken away from me instead!”
Mort chuckled and shook his head.
“Then I ran into him again, this time sitting at my own table and teaching my brother, Andy, how to cheat at cards!”
“What?” Mort laughed and slapped his leg. “Yeah, I just bet you weren’t…” and laughed the harder.
I stopped laughing, hearing something behind, and turned my head. It was only the sheriff’s horse using his bush as a scratching post, but the light mood was broken.
“Well, we’re not getting much done standing in the middle of the road waiting for someone to come along and run us over. Let’s get this search done with before the sun goes down and it gets too cold. And you can come home with me for one of Daisy’s suppers, too,” I added.
Mort’s face lit up and he cocked his head. “Now that sounds like the best invitation I’ve had in months.”
…
A fruitless hour’s search brought us no more substantial clues as who could have been hiding in those rocks except some horse droppings that could have been left before the snow came. But we couldn’t find any boot prints or anything else, the ground was just too rocky. It was a cinch whoever it was hadn’t stayed there the night, there wasn’t much cover, either, and we couldn’t determine which direction they’d ridden, so we mounted and rode back to the ranch.
The moment we rounded the hill, I could tell Daisy hadn’t been idle since I’d been gone: there was freshly washed linens (what we had left) and Jess’ clothes he’d been wearing mended and flapping in the chill breeze. And Mike hadn’t wasted his time either. He came pelting out of the barn as soon as he heard Buttons barking at us, his face dirty with hay-dust and a few pieces of yellow straw sticking out of his hair like stuffing from a scarecrow. He clung to my stirrup, looking up with eager eyes and firing questions faster than I could think to answer any of them. I finally just laughed and told him to get washed up, I’d tell him all about it when he was clean and ready for supper.
Daisy had peeked through the kitchen window curtains, smiled and disappeared and Mort and I could smell the fragrance of frying ham even before we dismounted and washed at the side of the house. She was setting another plate and silverware on the table when we came in to hang up our light coats, hats and gun belts, but she just smiled again and went back to into the kitchen.
After supper, Mort and I had another “little chat” with a slightly flushed Jess, without bringing up any of our suspicions or the .30-.30 casings Mort had found, but Jess couldn’t remember anything other than what he’d already told us. Daisy soon shooed us both out so she could feed her charge more of the “special soup” she’d made, especially since he was running a fever, and Jess was out again soon after.
Mort couldn’t stay long himself as the sun was getting mighty close to the horizon and it would be another cold night. He untied his heavier coat from the cantle, bound up his jacket in its stead, thanked Daisy for the supper and left me with something to think about: “If you don’t mind, I’m wiring the Sheriff in Medicine Bow tomorrow morning, see what I can find out. He might have seen Jess there with someone or noticed some suspicious characters lurking around.”
About all I could do was just nod and wave him off, but I had time to think about what he’d implied as I put up Sandy Bill for the night.
I was still troubled when I went to bed and, despite being tired and crawling under the covers earlier than usual, I didn’t sleep well. In fact, I spent most of the night listening to Mike and Jess mumble in their sleep . . . and paid special attention to my partner’s near incoherent words.
About three hours before it was time to get up, I finally fell into a deep sleep . . . totally convinced Jess was holding something from both Mort and me.
March 14th
Lack of sleep didn’t make me very sociable after I dragged myself from bed, so I stayed busy with chores most of the chilly, windy day and let Daisy and Mike take care of Jess, even when Dr. Masters dropped in to check on him later in the morning. The Doctor had to come out to the barn to tell me his patient was doing very well and could probably handle just a bit of solid food tomorrow, like a biscuit or a piece of toast with Daisy’s soup. I acknowledged his declaration with a nod, said thanks and went back to cleaning and mending the harness. I guess my briskness puzzled the doctor because, when I glanced up, he was just standing there with a confused expression on his face, then turned and left the barn.
I was still morose and less than talkative at supper, but I couldn’t confide my suspicions with anyone, especially Daisy or Mike . . . or Jess for that matter, so all I could do was apologize when Daisy asked what was wrong. When she mentioned the fact that I hadn’t visited Jess all day, I told her I hadn’t slept well last night, then down-right lied to them both by saying I “suspected” I might be coming down with a cold and didn’t want to give it to my partner. Daisy fixed up some of her special tea for me that night, then stood around until I drank it. But I fought to keep my eyes open until I was sure Jess was asleep before I stumbled off to bed myself.
But I was still burdened by disturbing dreams…
March 15th:
I woke up early the next morning. Mike – and Jess, thank goodness – were still asleep, so I didn’t bother to shave and took my clothes and boots and tiptoed out of the room. But I was never as early as Daisy, who, embarrassed, ducked back into the kitchen as I walked out in my long-johns, then politely waited until I’d gotten at least my pants and shirt on.
“Did you sleep well last night?” she asked, setting the coffee cup at the end of the table after I sat down.
I tried on a false smile just for her and nodded. “Yeah; thanks. Almost fell asleep in the rocker.”
She “tisked.” “I thought I’d have to get you a blanket and let you sleep in front of the fire,” and shook her head disapprovingly before she smiled in return.
I stifled a yawn and took up the steaming cup. “You put some of Jess’ sleeping potion in it didn’t you?” and gave her a suspicious look over the rim as I took a sip.
She shrugged. “Just one drop; you looked like you could use it. How do you feel this morning?”
I put down the cup, thought about it a moment, hummed and answered, “Think I’m kind of hungry.”
That was just the answer she was waiting to hear because she put her hands together, said, “Good!” in an excited, too cheerful whisper. “We’re having pancakes this morning!” and returned to the kitchen.
As soon as she was out of sight, I sighed wearily, leaned over my cup and put my head in my hands.
A minute or two later, I heard voices coming from the bedroom – Jess’ deep, if low-pitched, then Mike’s – and someone padding across the floor before the grating of the “thunder mug” being dragged out from under the bed. Jess’ voice again… I closed my mind to the rest, instead concentrated on the coffee. A couple of minutes later, Mike opened the door and leaned back into the bedroom to say, “I’ll see what’s for breakfast. Maybe Aunt Daisy will let you eat something besides soup.”
Daisy peeked around the corner, answered loud enough to reach the bedroom, “I might,” and added, “good morning Mike, Jess. How do pancakes with a bit of butter and just a touch of honey sound?”
I slipped a “happy expression” on as Mike glanced around with his own genuine delighted grin, but mine was as false as the chuckle I returned when Jess smacked his lips and said, “Better hurry, Daisy, ‘cause I’m about ready to start eatin’ the feathers out’a this pillow!”
Mike laughed and closed the door, walked around the table and pulled out his chair, then leaned his elbows on the wood. “’Moring, Slim.”
I purposefully picked up my cup again, swallowed the coffee I’d sipped and answered, “Good morning, Mike,” before I took another drink to forestall any more conversation. Unfortunately, it didn’t work.
Mike leaned closer, said conspiringly, “Jess wanted to know where you were yesterday. I told him you thought you might give him a cold or something, but he still wanted to see you. He was real . . . you know… He wanted to see you real bad.”
“’Insistent?’” I offered.
“Yeah; he was real insistent,” Mike augmented with a nod.
I set the cup down, sniffed, pulled my handkerchief from a back pocket and blew my nose. I shook my head, said, “I don’t want to take the chance.”
Mike shrugged and sat back. “Jess don’t… Doesn’t,” he corrected himself and grinned, “mind. Even if you just stand in the door, you could at least say ‘Hello,’ or wave or something.” He shrugged again. “I mean, you sleep right across from him anyway…”
My first thought was, if I did just say hello, I’d probably end it with angry words, so I shook my head again and whispered, “Only I’m not breathing in his face, either. I can’t take the chance, Mike. He needs to get well, not start fighting a cold, or worse, too.”
Mike started to say something else, but Daisy, for once, seemed to be on my side as she brought us both two heaping plates of pancakes, slathered in butter. “There you go,” she said before hurrying back to the kitchen for the honey and another plate stacked with hot bacon.
I still wasn’t hungry, but I dragged the napkin onto my lap, picked up the fork and cut a man-sized slice out of the stack without waiting for the topping. I was glad Mike decided to drop the subject as he waited for the honey – but I had to watch the boy drown his hotcakes in it before he wolfed it down, a fork in one hand and a piece of bacon in the other.
Daisy marched past with a rather conservative plate with only two small pancakes already cut into bite-sized portions and a drizzle of honey on top. Naturally Jess had to complain – a hungry man needed more than that and something about not being enough to whet his appetite – but Daisy gave him some clever comment, closed the door on whatever else he had to say and brought her own modest plate to the table. Since we heard no more remarks from the convalescing, I figured Daisy had either added a bit “extra” to Jess’ breakfast, or his portion had been quite enough for the time being.
The rest of the morning’s conversation around the table – what there was of it – involved what needed to be done and who was going to do what that day. Daisy said, if Jess felt up to it, she’d like to scrape off those “whiskers” that had been growing for five days; he was beginning to look a bit like a “grubby old desert rat,” which caused Mike to giggle.
I had my own whiskers to remove, so I coincided my barbering with Daisy’s and, though Jess acted like he wanted to talk, he wasn’t given the chance before I’d finished and walked out of the room.
I had a ranch and relay station to run after all…
Mose pulled the coach into the yard – shouting at his team and scattering the chickens, as usual – a little later than the timetable suggested this morning. I already had the relief team ready and tied to the corral and had been on my way to fix a door hinge, tool-box in hand, when Mose arrived. I set the tools against the side of the barn and went to the coach, paused long enough to accept a note Mose handed down to me before taking care of the used team. But I already figured it must be from Mort without having the old driver tell me and just stuffed it into my shirt pocket.
I unhitched the team and let Mike hold them – naturally Mose had to accompany his passengers inside for his share of pie and coffee – while I hooked up the fresh horses. The Overland’s “guests” were out and ready to go after that (and looking rather pleased). I handed them inside while Mose climbed up on the box again, tipped his hat to Daisy, waved at Mike and me, yelled, slapped the reins and ran his fresh team out of the yard and up the hill, again scattering the stupid birds – every time Mose drove into or out of the yard, I expected we’d have fried chicken or chicken stew for supper, especially on chilly days such as this when the birds were slow, but this time the chickens were lucky, so tonight it looked like we’d get ham or beef again…
(Of necessity, part of our budget was set aside to replace the egg-layers lost each month due to predators or, especially, Mose’s driving.)
Mike and I led the used team into the corral. I un-harnessed them and rubbed them down while Mike, grumbling, wiped the sweat from the harness and lather from the bits, then struggled with each horse-collar and all its trailing leather, finally getting all four into the barn. His next task was to give them all a good saddle-soap and look for leather that might require some mending. This was, besides mucking out the stable, Mike’s most detested chore and I could hear him muttering all the way out in the corral.
After the horses were cared for and given some hay, I wiped my hands on my pants, parked my shoulders against the side of the barn away from prying eyes and hauled the note from my shirt pocket. I read it once, then once again with a deepening frown . . . before I crumpled it in both hands and almost tossed it in the corral for the horses to trample. I didn’t because Mike might see it and I sure didn’t want to share the information with the boy, or Daisy. Besides, I had to think of a gentler way to broach the subject rather than marching up to Jess’ bed and accusing him of downright lying about who he’d “visited” in Medicine Bow…
I stuffed the wadded paper into a pants pocket, let myself out of the gate, grabbed the tool box again and strode back to the shower stall to fix that door hinge before we’d need it this summer, kicking at the stupid, squawking birds as I went and taking out my anger and frustration on them instead of shoving Mort’s note in Jess’ face…
I just couldn’t believe what it’d said:
“Slim,
“Just so you know, Lon Bennett, Medicine Bow’s new Sheriff, was a lawman in San Antonio, Texas years before he migrated to Wyoming territory, so he’s had a lot of experience.
Lon said he’d never seen Jess before, but he thought he recognized Ryan Mars and Jack Sterling stepping off the afternoon stage from the Casper run over a week ago. They were met by a man he described as ‘just short of six feet wearing a low-slung, worn black holster and a pistol with walnut grips, a sweat-stained black hat with a small, silver-studded hat-band and a blue bandana,’ which pretty well describes Jess. Lon was so sure it was Mars and Sterling, he had one of his deputies discreetly follow the three around while he returned to his office to search through every wanted poster he’d gotten as well as the last Sheriff’s old files. When he couldn’t find them, he wired El Paso, but by the time he received a reply three days later, the outlaws – and he’d counted Jess in with them – had already gotten some horses and left town.
“Slim, Ryan Mars and Jack Sterling, as well as Quint Unger and his younger brother, Yancy Unger, are all wanted for robbery and multiple murders, including the ambush of two Texas Rangers. I’ll leave it up to you, for the time being at least, whether you confront Jess with this knowledge or not. But sooner or later, I’ll have to.
“Mort.”