BEST LAID PLANS  

By Rachel Zander

Beta Reader: Moira Purnell

PROLOGUE 

Jess looked up, his knuckles white from gripping the prison bars, not daring to take his eyes from the gun barrel that was pointed directly at Slim’s chest. 

“It was perfect. I had Sherman right where I wanted him. And you, Harper; all you had to do was take the fall and you could have saved everyone a whole lot of trouble.” 

Slim stared at Jess from across the room, the anguish he was feeling clearly evident in his eyes. 

“Do you have any idea how many hours I spent planning this?” Sam’s eyes blazed as he glared at Jess. “It was the perfect plan – all I had to do was find someone who looked enough like you and who was brainless enough to help me pull it off. Pa always said the only way to succeed was to have a good plan…he always had a good plan to follow…” He let the words drift, then he spun away from Jess and looked right at Slim, his gun never wavering from his target. “But you ruined that, Sherman! Couldn’t leave well enough alone. No, you had to go and set the law on my pa and you got him killed. 

“It should have been so easy – one last job then we’d move across Wyoming on the stage and no one would ever suspect a thing. Set it up as a botched stage hold-up and Pa and me would be in the clear with enough money to last us and no one would ever know what happened to us. But you had to go and get smart and warn that stage driver. It was self-defence!  No one would have known if not for you and your big mouth! You and that Simpson brat! Darn boy had to be on the stage just at the wrong time to see everything…” 

“You don’t have to do this, Sam,” Slim said, pleading with the irate young man. “Just because your Pa was a criminal doesn’t mean you have to be the same. He died because of what he did – you don’t have to die the same way!” 

“SHUT UP!” Sam yelled, breathing hard. He seemed to calm slightly as he continued, “No, Sherman, you’re gonna pay for your part in this, same way I made Cal Simpson pay. Killing him was easy, though – the boy was a coward and he was soft. But you, you weren’t so easy to figure. Then, when I saw you with Harper, I knew what I had to do.  I could get both of you in one clever move with very little risk to myself.” 

‘Here I thought I was helping Sam by becoming his friend. How could I have been so wrong about him?’ thought Slim. Although he didn’t understand everything that the young man was ranting about, he could see that Sam was deadly serious. Now he and his two best friends were paying for his costly error in judgment. 

“Why drag Jess into this? This is between you and me. It has nothing to do with him.” Slim tried to sound confident but his words lacked conviction as he stared at the gun. 

“’Why drag Jess into this?’” Sam mimicked sarcastically, mocking Slim. “Well, why do you think? The two of you are all but joined at the hip. Best way to get at you, Sherman, is to get Harper. Course, that sheriff of yours is no walk in the park, either. He wasn’t supposed to catch on like he did. But I’ll take care of him, too. Just like I did the Simpson brothers. ‘Never leave any loose ends’ is what my pa always told me.” He pointed at Mort, who still lay unconscious on the floor. “Never counted on him being so close to you.” 

“Kinda puts a damper on things, huh, Sam?” sneered Jess, his eyes blazing. “Shooting a lawman’s a hanging offence. You’re going to go down just like your old man. How does that fit into your ‘perfect plan’?” 

‘This isn’t the time to be getting him even angrier, Jess!’ thought Slim, but he couldn’t help but understand how Jess felt. 

Taking his eyes off Slim for a moment, Sam glowered at Jess then looked over at Mort’s still form. Seeing a chance to escape, Slim moved across the room like lightning but Sam was ready for him. Jess yelled for Slim to look out even as the shot rang out. Slim reared back as the bullet hit his chest and he collapsed, a bright red stain spreading across his shirt. 

“NO!” yelled Jess, straining against the ropes that bound his wrists to the cell bars. He glared at Sam. 

Sam just laughed. “Looks like Sherman ends up losing this time. Would have been nicer at the end of a hanging rope like my Pa but I reckon I can’t be choosy.” He grinned wickedly. 

Jess’ brows furrowed as Sam walked over to Slim and kicked him in the ribs. Slim did not move. 

“Slim…” The name was spoken barely above a whisper. Jess’ legs buckled under him as Sam aimed his gun at Slim’s blond hair and fired. 

Jess closed his eyes as the second shot rang out. 

 CHAPTER 1 

Cresting the hill in the warm setting sun, Slim Sherman sighed in contentment as he finally caught sight of the quiet little ranch house in the distance. He was hungry, tired, and stiff and he couldn’t wait to get home. 

Although he’d only been away for a little over four days, it felt like years since he’d tasted Daisy’s delicious cooking, played checkers with Mike, and jawed with Jess while enjoying a good cup of coffee and the warmth of the fading sun. He looked forward to spending a quiet evening rocking on the porch, listening as Jess filled him in on the goings-on that he had missed and all the work that Jess had done on his own. He grinned at the thought of his friend chewing him out over his heavy workload – it seemed as though Jess always did the lion’s share when no one else was around to appreciate it. 

Not that Jess was going to get much done for a while – knowing that Slim would be away for most of the week, Daisy had managed to persuade him to help Jess fix the barn roof before leaving for Cheyenne. It had been unseasonably warm and dry but even they had to agree with Daisy that the rain would eventually come and the last thing they needed was a leaking barn roof. Slim had delayed his trip by an extra day and he and Jess had set to work on completing the tedious chore. 

Neither of them realized that a crow had decided to build her nest at the edge of the roof until Jess started to hammer. Slim chuckled as he remembered Jess’s shocked expression when flustered black birds started flying out at him from every direction. In trying to avoid the pesky mother crow that was flying directly at his face, Jess had lost his footing and toppled off the roof. More than just his pride had been injured and he had spent the day hobbling around, favouring his badly bruised and twisted knee. Jess’ only consolation had been when Slim reassured him that he would be able to finish the job without his injured friend’s help. 

Smiling down at the cozy little ranch house and barn that made up the Sherman Ranch and Relay Station, Slim couldn’t help but feel a hint of pride at what he and Jess had accomplished. So much had changed in the four years since Jess had first trespassed on Sherman land and made his way into the daily grind that had been Slim’s existence at the time, bringing with him a carefree spirit and a zest for life that Slim never thought he’d learn to appreciate again. 

Knowing Jess as well as he did now, he still couldn’t fathom how the young man had managed to stay on the drift for so long, without friends or family or a stable home life. Thinking back to that fateful day when he had first laid eyes on Jess, Slim was thankful that, despite the odds and a very inauspicious beginning, the young drifter had decided to stay. He couldn’t imagine what he’d do without Jess in his life and he knew that Jess felt the same way. 

Slim tugged at Alamo’s reins and urged the horse forward, trying to get comfortable after hours of sitting in the hard saddle and eager to get home. Unlike Jess, who seemed to have been born in the saddle, he preferred travelling by stage whenever he had business in Cheyenne; but there had been too many passengers for him to make the trip that way. Not that he minded riding, and having Alamo had made it easier to get around while he was in town. He just generally preferred comfort to convenience when he had a lot on his mind. 

Jess had offered to go in his place, but he needed rest to mend his seriously wrenched knee and spending hours on a horse would have done nothing to help the injury. Furthermore, Slim knew that Jess hated having to deal with the stage line officials, particularly when it was for financial matters and policies. He could just imagine how Jess would have handled the pointless meetings that he had spent the past couple of days enduring. ‘Dad-gum waste of time’, is how Jess would put it and, for once, Slim had to completely agree with him. He was coming home with half a dozen new procedures to implement and he didn’t look forward to any of them. What made it worse was the knowledge that, as with nearly all the so-called ‘new’ policies that he’d been forced to try in the past; most of them would end up forgotten in less than a month. 

As Slim rounded the bend and got to within a few yards of the main corral, he was surprised and a little disappointed when no one came out to greet him. It had become a tradition for Mike to come racing out the door whenever he or Jess got back from a trip and he looked forward to seeing the little boy’s beaming face. Instead, he noted with a tinge of concern that, despite the fact that it was already dusk, the house was dark and there was very little smoke rising from the chimney. 

Slim gingerly dismounted, stretching his aching back muscles as his feet hit the dusty ground. He led his weary horse to the barn and took his time removing the saddle and heavy saddlebags and brushing down Alamo, all the while hoping that Daisy had made one of her wonderful stews and a fresh apple pie. His stomach growled in anticipation. The food at the saloon in Cheyenne had been edible, but not by much. It certainly couldn’t hold a candle to Daisy’s culinary talents. He cringed as he remembered sitting at the table in the saloon thinking that even Jess’ cooking would have been preferable to much of what he’d been served. That was one bit of information that he wasn’t planning on sharing with Jess, though. 

Reaching the porch, he was stunned to find the front door ajar and the house dark and silent. Dropping the laden saddlebags on the floor, he removed his dusty hat and hung it on a peg next to the door while he allowed his eyes to adjust to the shadows. He called out for Jess and was met by chilling silence. Looking around the room, he could make out definite signs that a scuffle had taken place and it was clear that someone had left in a hurry – two of the kitchen chairs were tipped over and there was a dark stain on the floor where a coffee cup had fallen, spilling its contents. As he made his way through the living room, he could see that the kitchen was in shambles and shattered glass covered the floor next to the back door. Slim walked over to the damaged door and flinched when he noticed the crimson stains on the knob and the floorboards – he did not need better lighting to see that someone had been injured and had left a fair amount of blood behind. 

Carefully stepping over the broken glass, he leaned over to pull open the door, barely managing to leap out of the way when it twisted from its hinges and landed with a thud on the ground, just outside the kitchen. Bending over to take a closer look at the dusty ground, Slim could make out faint droplets of blood leading from the kitchen in the direction of the barn. His stomach in knots, he reached over and lit a lantern and drew his gun from its holster.  

The blood trail ended nearly a foot from the barn door and there was a bloody handprint on the fresh paint. Still holding the lamp and his gun, he quietly pushed open the barn door with his shoulder. Stepping inside, he turned at the sound of a whimper and was abruptly knocked from his feet as something heavy fell across his back. His fall caused the light to go out and his gun went flying. He groped for it in the dark as he tried to roll out from beneath the heavy weight on his back. Sharp fingernails dug into his cheek and he cried out in pain. 

“SLIM?” 

As quickly as the assault had begun, it stopped. Slim rubbed his stinging cheek and frantically looked around to find the source of the sound. 

“Mike? Where are you?” 

In the shadows, a diminutive figure stepped out from behind one of the stalls and the flicker of a match lit up the loft above. Slim knelt down and Mike flew into his outstretched arms, tears streaming down his face. Daisy carefully climbed down the ladder from the loft and, with trembling fingers, reached out for Slim’s arm. Her eyes were bright and Slim could see the distinct outline of a handprint on her reddened cheek. White-hot anger flashed in his eyes as he continued to rock the terrified little boy who was clutching him tightly. 

“Daisy, what happened? Where’s Jess?” Slim could not keep the fear from his voice and he couldn’t help but notice that Traveler as well as three other horses were missing from their stalls.  Mike buried his face deeper into the folds of his shirt and Slim couldn’t have dislodged the trembling boy from his arms even if he had wanted to. He had never seen Mike or Daisy so frightened. 

Daisy’s eyes brimmed with tears and she wrung her hands together. 

“Oh, Slim! They took him away! They said that he killed their brother and they were going to… to hang him.” Daisy tugged at Slim’s sleeve and tried to control the flood of emotions. 

“Who, Daisy? When did this happen?” 

Daisy just shook her head and tightened her grip on Slim’s arm. He could see that she was having a difficult time staying on her feet and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders to steady her. 

“Let’s go back into the house, and then you can tell me what happened.” 

Daisy made a feeble attempt to smile, grateful that Slim was home. After everything that had happened, she needed his clear thinking and steady presence to help her understand the day’s horrible events. 

Still holding Mike in his arms and keenly aware of the bloodied and wrecked back door, Slim led Daisy through the yard to the front porch. He wasn’t sure how much she and Mike knew of what had happened inside and he was not ready to have them relive it by going into the house that way. 

Stepping into the living room, he helped Daisy into Jess’ rocking chair by the fireplace then he lit the lamps and took a seat on the leather couch. Mike finally released his iron grip and slid off his lap. Slim watched as he walked over to one of the fallen kitchen chairs, righted it, and sat down. 

“What happened, Daisy?” Slim asked gently, not sure if she was ready to talk. He reached over and held her hand, waiting for her to regain some of her composure. 

Daisy looked up with red-rimmed eyes and sighed deeply. She was determined to tell him everything that had happened but she needed to find the right words to say. Slim could not help but notice the anger in her soft blue eyes as she finally spoke. 

“Jess’ leg was really bothering him today and I suggested that he try to rest it for a while. He decided to clean his gun while he waited for the afternoon stage.” She paused a moment before continuing. “Although he was still limping, I think that he was feeling better by the time the stage finally arrived. It was almost an hour late and he was worried about the delay so he went out to speak with Mose. I put fresh coffee on and waited for the passengers to come in.”  

Slim looked over at the table and could see that Jess’ gun belt was slung over the back of a chair and the pieces of his pistol and the rag that he had been using were spread across the gingham tablecloth. He also noticed what appeared to be a broken rifle on the floor under the table. Although it was uncharacteristic of Jess not to have his gun on his hip, Slim knew that a gun was rarely, if ever, needed when going out to meet the stage passengers and change the teams, especially when Mose carried a loaded thirty-thirty on his lap. He could only guess that Jess would have had no qualms about leaving his gun on the table. 

Daisy continued, “But he came right back to the house and told Mike and me to stay inside. He didn’t say why but I think he felt there was something not quite right about the passengers – I believe he said that there were three of them and he recognized them as the Simpson brothers. He looked very worried.” 

“Jess musta known something was really wrong…He even took his special gun…the one that he keeps in the fireplace,” said Mike from across the room. His tone was flat and his dark eyes looked haunted. 

Daisy and Slim looked up in surprise. Daisy had not realized that Mike had been watching Jess’ every move – she had hoped that he had been too engrossed in his lessons to pay very much attention to Jess’ definite shift in behaviour upon returning to the house. She had been certain that he had not seen Jess retrieve his peacemaker from the mantle.  

Slim swallowed and tried to control the feeling of dread that was coming over him. He knew that, even without his gun, Jess could handle himself extremely well with his fists and with a rifle – more than once, he had been very grateful for Jess’ prowess with both. But Jess had made a promise to Slim that he would never use his gunfighter’s iron again and it was a promise that Jess had faithfully kept for over four years.  It was a part of his past that he was only too willing to forget and only something dreadfully wrong would make him resort to taking that gun out and using it against anyone, especially with Mike and Daisy nearby. 

Daisy continued, “I heard the stage leave but the Simpsons mustn’t have been on it because two of them jumped on him as soon as he stepped outside, and they dragged him into the house. Oh, Slim! One of the men was pointing Jess’ own gun at him… They kept saying that he killed their brother and they were going to make sure he hanged for it. They wouldn’t listen to him, Slim. There was nothing that I could do and they just kept hitting him…” Her voice trailed off and fresh tears welled up in her eyes. She gripped the folds of her skirt in frustration. 

“Did they hurt you or Mike?” 

Seeing Daisy’s bruised cheek and Mike’s tear-stained face, Slim really didn’t need to ask but he couldn’t think of another way of prompting Daisy to continue her story and he desperately needed to find out what had happened to Jess. 

“I tried to help Jess but they pushed me away…we couldn’t let them hurt Mike…” 

She explained how Jess had managed to pry himself away from his attackers long enough to distract them and allow Mike and her to escape to the barn. The last thing that she had seen was Jess being thrown through the back door and dragged to the barn. Her eyes were dark as she explained how she and Mike had climbed into the loft and hidden but she had heard what they had continued to do to Jess. Slim looked over at Mike, who still sat huddled on the kitchen chair, and he could tell from the expression on the little boy’s face that he too, was well aware of what had happened to Jess. 

“Did they say where they were going, Daisy?” 

“No, Slim. They took some of our horses and left with Jess.” She drew in a deep breath as she remembered. “Mike and I stayed in the loft until you got home. We thought you might be one of them coming back.” Daisy shuddered at the thought. “You know the rest…” 

Slim sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He was eager to go out and find Jess but there was no way that he could leave Daisy and Mike in their present condition. Besides, if Jess had not been able to handle the men on his own, he knew that he would not likely stand a chance. No, he needed Mort’s help, maybe even a posse. He stood up and looked at Daisy. 

“Come on, Daisy. I’m taking you and Mike into town where you’ll be safe.” 

She looked up and shook her head. “No, Slim. Mike and I will be fine, really. You must find Jess,” she pleaded. 

Slim just shook his head. “No, Daisy. I can’t leave knowing that you and Mike could still be in danger. Besides, I don’t know what I’m going up against and I’ll need as much help as I can get.” 

Daisy bowed her head in resignation for a few seconds then she stood up with a determined look on her face. 

“I’ll get a few things that we’ll need, then. You’d best get the buckboard ready, Slim.” She looked over at Mike, who had not moved one inch. “Please come and help me, Mike.” 

The little boy slowly rose from the chair and looked first at Daisy then at Slim. 

“You hafta find him, Slim.” The words were spoken so softly that Slim had to strain to hear. “They said they’re gonna kill him.” 

“Don’t worry, Mike. I’ll find Jess and bring him home safe. You just go help Daisy.” 

Slim hoped that he sounded more confident than he felt – he had no idea how he was going to find Jess or bring him home. He didn’t even know why the Simpson brothers had taken his best friend or where to start looking. The most important thing now was to get Mike and Daisy to safety; then he could worry about finding Jess. Seeing the expression on Mike’s face, he seriously wondered whether he would even find Jess alive. He pushed that thought to the back of his mind and walked out toward the barn.

CHAPTER 2 

“Did ya hafta hit him so hard?” 

The older man’s leathery features wrinkled in disgust. “You blame know I did. Look what he did to Clay’s face and my ribs! ‘Sides, he’s a wild one.” He held up the gun that he had wrestled from Jess earlier that evening. “You see this gun he was totin’ – this here’s a gunfighter’s gun, betcha he even filed it down. Some ranch hand - Cal never had a chance. No, that’s the only way we handle ‘im ‘til we get back to Casper. He damn near got the best of us back there and he could hardly walk. No way’s he gonna get a chance to try it again!” 

The younger man looked over at the dark-haired figure sprawled across the back of his horse. Even in the dim moonlight, he could see that blood was slowly seeping from the man’s injured head and had already stained his horse’s left flank. They had been riding hard for nearly five hours and he had not so much as stirred. If he made it through the night, he was not likely to be in any shape to do anything, let alone put up a fight. 

“But, Jim. Look at ‘im – he’s still bleedin’ and he hasn’t moved since you tied him to his horse. We should stop and rest a bit. You said we’d bring him back for the law to deal with ‘im. The way he’s lookin’ right now, he ain’t never gonna make it to trial.” Tom couldn’t take his eyes off the slumped rider. He figured that the man couldn’t be more than a few years older than he was. 

“What do you care? You know what he did to Cal – ain’t no way he’s not gonna pay for that! What’s the matter with you, Tom? You gettin’ soft?” The older man glared at him but Tom refused to meet his stare. 

“What are you two jawin’ about?” yelled the oldest of the three riders. He slowed his horse and waited for them to catch up, Jess’ horse in tow. They stopped so abruptly that Jess nearly tumbled from Traveler’s back. Tom quickly reached over and pushed the unconscious rider back into his saddle. Jess moaned but did not come to. 

“Tom here thinks we should rest a spell; maybe check that murderer’s injured head. Ain’t that right, Tom?” asked Jim. He coughed deeply and spat. 

Clay stared at his youngest brother, disdain clearly written across his face. “What’s wrong with you, boy? Your head not on straight? With that bounty on his head, we ain’t the only ones who’s gonna want to bring him in but we got the best reason to. I like him just where he is. I don’t know ‘bout you, but I ain’t ready to put up another fight just yet.” He rubbed his bruised face and hunched over his saddle horn. 

Tom looked at his older brothers and groaned softly. He had followed them in the mistaken belief that, if they did find the man who had murdered the youngest member of their family, they would let the law take care of him. Now, he felt sick at the thought that they may never have intended to allow the man to live long enough for a trial. 

He couldn’t help but remember the dark-haired stranger’s pleas for them to hear him out and to spare the old woman and the boy. He hadn’t seemed to know why they were after him and he’d put up quite a fight when they tried to take him. The more Tom thought about it, the more uncertain he became. 

“What is it?” asked Jim, noticing the deepening frown on his youngest brother’s face. 

“How do we know this is even the right man? You said you never saw his face, just heard the name ‘Jess Harper’. When Clay was askin’ him all them questions about killin’ Cal, he didn’t look like he knew what we was talkin’ about…” Tom cringed at the thought that they could be holding an innocent man, a man who was not likely to live very long if they didn’t stop soon. 

“Are you sayin’ I don’t know what I’m doin’? Well, it’s a little late for that, Tom. You know what Sam told us - Cal only said two words ‘fore he died: ‘Jess Harper’. That shrivelled up old stage driver said Harper worked at the Sherman Ranch and Harper’s the one tied to that horse.” He pointed at Jess in disdain. 

“’Sides, he answered to the name ‘Harper’ and he sure fits the description, right down to that gun he was wearin’. Ya don’t think he’d be fool ‘nuff to admit to murder, now do ya, Tom? C’mon, we best get movin’ else somebody’s liable to come lookin’ to take our prisoner away – maybe even that old lady or the boy.” He and Jim cackled at the thought of Daisy or Mike coming to Jess’ rescue. 

Tom glared at them but Jim only shrugged. Clay couldn’t understand how Tom could even be thinking that they had the wrong man. How many dark-haired, blue-eyed gunmen named Jess Harper did he think there were in Laramie anyway? He dug his heels into his horse’s flanks and rode into the darkness. 

Still snickering at the thought of the old woman or the boy coming to rescue their prisoner, Jim grabbed the reins from Tom’s hand and pulled Jess’ horse closer to his own. The moon was high and it was getting much harder to see – if Jess did come to, he wasn’t planning on letting him take advantage of the shadows to make a run for it. 

Tom and Jim had gone no more than a mile when Clay came riding back through the darkness and held up his hand. 

“Ground’s too bad to keep goin’. It ain’t worth us dyin’ to get Harper to Casper. We’ll get goin’ again at first light.” 

Jim scowled at his younger brother. “Looks like yer gonna get that rest after all, Tom. Now don’t go thinkin’ about doin’ anything funny, ya hear?”  

Jim and Clay rode forward to a small outcropping of trees and stones and dismounted. 

“Don’t offer much cover,” said Clay, “but I reckon it’ll have to do till the sun comes up. ‘Sides, no one’s gonna think we got this far so fast.” He stomped the dust off his boots and handed the reins to Tom. 

“Make sure they’re tied tight. Last thing we need is for them horses gettin’ away,” said Jim, as he sat down next to a large boulder. He took out a large half-emptied bottle of whiskey, took a long swig and grinned in satisfaction then handed the bottle to Clay. 

Clay took a deep swallow then seemed to remember something. “Mind they can’t be seen from the road!” he yelled, watching Tom ride away with the two stolen horses in tow. 

Jim grabbed his whiskey bottle out of Clay’s hands and looked up at him questioningly. 

“That boy may be kin, but I don’t trust ‘im. We don’t need nobody findin’ us now. Specially not with Harper in the shape he’s in. It’s gonna take some explainin’ when we get back to town, what with him banged up like that.” Clay pointed a grimy thumb in Jess’ direction. 

Jim nodded in agreement – he’d been dead set against allowing Tom to come with them in the first place but Clay had insisted that he could be useful if Harper got out of hand. He and Clay had a reputation as brutes but the two youngest Simpson brothers – Tom and Cal - had taken after their mother’s gentle disposition. Jim thought they were too soft to ever be of much use. He couldn’t tell Clay, at the risk of getting a nasty beating from his older brother, but he felt that was the reason that Cal had been so easy to kill. He almost wished that Harper had finished Tom off, too. That would have made the whole mess they were now in a lot easier to handle. 

Clay sat down next to him and started to build a small fire. Jim grabbed his arm. 

“You crazy, what about the smoke?” he asked. 

“Ain’t nobody gonna see the smoke in this dark. ‘Sides, I’m hungry and cold and nothin’s gonna stop me from having somethin’ warm to eat.” 

Tom strode back just as Clay was heating a small pot of pork and beans. He could see that one of them had tied Jess’ horse to a small tree but they had not bothered to untie him or take him off his horse. Tom shook his head in disgust and walked over to the injured man.  

“What do you think you’re doin’?” yelled Clay. 

Jim looked up from his whiskey bottle long enough to snort at his youngest brother. “Told ya we shoulda left him in Casper – too dang soft for this business,” he whispered to Clay, revulsion manifest in his tone. 

“I’m untyin’ this man and takin’ him off his horse before he dies on us! He’s still bleedin’ and I’m not gonna be responsible for him dying!” Tom yelled back, while he carefully cut the ropes that bound Jess to the saddle. He nearly fell on his backside as Jess pitched forward and his full weight landed on the shorter man’s shoulders. Tom cried out in pain but nevertheless managed to drag Jess closer to the fire so that he could get a better look at him. 

He propped the unconscious man against one of the larger rocks then knelt next to him and gently lifted his head, using the light from the fire to survey the extent of the damage his brothers had inflicted. He was totally unprepared for what he saw. In the few hours that they had been riding, dark bruises had formed on Jess’ face and his bottom lip was split and swollen. But that wasn’t Tom’s biggest concern – a worrisome amount of blood had soaked through the once-blue bandana that was still tied around his neck and blood continued to flow from several open cuts on the back of his head. 

Tom didn’t know very much about head injuries but he did know that it couldn’t be healthy for a person to lose that much blood in such a short period of time. He also knew that it wasn’t a good sign for someone to be out cold for that long. He carefully removed the remaining shards of broken glass from the man’s dark hair and from beneath the edge of the bloodstained bandana then he untied his own bandana and dampened it with some of the water from his canteen. Cradling Jess’ head in his lap, he gently swabbed what appeared to be the largest open wound. He silently hoped that touching the wound would generate a response from him but he was as still as death. That was making Tom very uncomfortable. 

Concentrating on the cuts that ran along the unconscious man’s hairline, Tom was startled as Jess’ body shuddered violently and two watery and unfocused blue eyes peered up at him. Falling back on his haunches in surprise, Tom reached out to steady himself as the raven-haired young man blinked a few times and winced. 

“So, Tom, he gonna live?” asked Clay, his mouth full of the pork and beans he’d been heating. 

Tom spun around, instantly aware of his brothers. He was relieved to see that Clay couldn’t have cared one way or another – he was far too engrossed in his food to notice that their prisoner was conscious. 

“You reckon we maybe shouldn’t have knocked him through that back door like we did?” asked Jim, with a nasty smirk on his face. “Looks to me he’s more dead than alive, Clay. What do you think?” He took another swallow of his whiskey. 

Tom refused to look at his brothers, preferring to concentrate on tending to Jess. His brothers seemed to realize that he was even less interested in them than they were in him and they turned away from him to resume their ranting. Clay was grumbling about having missed a golden opportunity to meet all the pretty little Laramie saloon gals that he’d heard about from Sam. They had not expected to find Jess Harper so easily or so quickly and they were now looking forward to getting their hands on the bounty. 

Tom was thoroughly disgusted that those two always seemed to be thinking with their britches rather than their heads. As he listened to their banter, he was acutely aware of the fact that they were far less concerned with finding Harper for what he had been accused of doing to Cal than they were at getting him back to Casper to claim the bounty on his head. In fact, they had now come to the conclusion that letting Harper die might be their best course of action. Jim was reminding Clay that a corpse was always easier to travel with and Clay was musing at how long Jim thought it would take for Jess to die. Tom could tell from the expression on Jess’ face that he, too, was starting to fully understand the seriousness of the situation. 

Looking down at Jess, Tom realized that he had to get the injured man away from them and soon. He knew that he couldn’t take on his brothers on his best day and even though he was now conscious, in the shape he was in, Tom couldn’t expect much help from Jess. 

Tom sat quietly in the shadows, swabbing Jess’ bruised face and hoping that a brilliant plan of escape would come his way. Maybe if he could distract his brothers, he and Jess would have a chance at getting away. Tom was still deep in thought when Jim suddenly tossed a handful of sand into the fire and yelled at him. The sound startled him and he dropped the bandana he’d been using on Jess but neither Clay nor Jim seemed to notice. Jess’ eyes were closed and Tom suspected that he had passed out again. 

“Go get that whiskey from my saddlebag! And be quick about it – Clay and me’s gettin’ mighty thirsty!” Jim’s voice already sounded slurred. 

Tom carefully propped Jess against the rock and stood up to get the bottles from Jim’s saddlebags. Never one to shy away from the bottle, Tom knew that Jim was only sharing his liquor with Clay because the whiskey had been a gift from Jim’s new friend, Sam. Tom groaned as he tried to balance the full bottles in his arms, cursing under his breath as one fell from his hands and shattered on the hard ground. 

“What do you think you’re doin’?” yelled a very angry Jim. “Be careful, you dimwit! Those were a gift and I don’t plan on lettin’ you waste ‘em!” 

Tom just shrugged and kicked some loose dirt over the broken glass and pungent liquid that was seeping into the ground next to his feet. ‘Some gift to give those two,’ he thought. ‘They’d probably sell their souls to Sam if he asked ‘em to right about now.’  

As he carefully stepped over Jess’ outstretched legs, Jess reached out and grabbed Tom’s pant leg and glanced at Jim then at the full bottles. Tom nodded in understanding – maybe if Clay and Jim got drunk enough, he and Jess would have a chance to get away. Jess closed his eyes again and Tom walked over to his brothers. 

“What’re you waitin’ for? Hand ‘em over!” yelled Jim, his cheeks a bright pink from the heat of the liquor. 

Tom handed the bottles to his brothers then sat down across from Clay. He watched them in silence as they both continued to drink heavily – it wasn’t going to be very long now. Already, Jim’s eyes were bloodshot from the effects of the booze and Clay was catching up quickly. 

Tom just sipped his coffee and waited.

  Chapter 3 

“Sheriff! Sheriff Cory!” 

The door to Sheriff Mort Cory’s office crashed open as Sam Milton, the young telegraph operator for Laramie, burst through with a crumpled sheet of paper in his hand. Mort had been trying to enjoy a quiet breakfast and the unexpected and noisy interruption resulted in his wearing the full contents of his coffee cup down his shirt and in his lap. He looked up in disgust. 

“What in blazes are you going on about?” huffed the irritated sheriff as he tried to mop up his soiled clothing. 

“It’s Jess!” gasped the telegraph operator, out of breath and clutching what appeared to be a wanted poster in his fist. 

“What’s Jess?” Mort asked in frustration. 

Following a telegram from the sheriff in Cheyenne, Mort had spent the better part of the night chasing after the dark-haired young man who now sat in one of the jail cells across from his desk. After making sure that his prisoner was fed and taken care of, he’d been hoping to enjoy a few moments of peace in which to eat his own meagre breakfast but it didn’t look like even that was meant to be. Looking down at his coffee-stained shirt and pants, Mort scowled and muttered a few choice words under his breath as a cackle of laughter erupted from the jail cell. From behind bars, his lone prisoner was thoroughly enjoying the sheriff’s predicament. 

Tossing the rag he’d been using onto his desk, Mort finally resigned himself to the prospect of enduring a damp shirt and pants for a while. Though the placement of one of the dark stains would take some explaining when he stood up later on, at least his clothes would eventually dry on their own. Besides, he wasn’t planning on going anywhere until the deputy from Cheyenne came to pick up the prisoner. In light of what had happened so far, Mort was looking forward to having an empty jail again. 

His irritation only continued to grow, as Sam simply stood unmoving and held a hand to his chest, trying to catch his breath. 

Following the death of his father by hanging six months earlier, a very downtrodden Sam Milton had decided to move to Laramie to try to make a fresh start. Slim had been a material witness in the young man’s father’s trial and had been instrumental in getting the man convicted for his crimes but Mort knew that Slim had been eager to help Sam get back on his feet the best way that he could. Despite Jess’ protests that there was something that wasn’t quite right about Sam, the two had quickly become friends and Slim had persuaded Sam to move to Laramie and take on the duties of the telegraph office when old man Jones retired.  

In the short period of time since he’d come to Laramie, Sam had developed quite a reputation as an upstart prankster. A rehabilitated master forger, having learned the trade from his father, he possessed a wicked sense of humour and had more than once prepared wanted posters on some of Laramie’s most respectable citizens. Slim had already endured his fair share of humiliation at the hands of his talented friend and Mort could only imagine why the young man had decided to target Jess this time. Most likely a lost poker game or jealousy over the wayward attentions of a wily female. 

Seeing Mort’s annoyed expression, Sam handed him the crumpled piece of paper and waited for the full realization of what had been inscribed to sink in with the sheriff. Although Mort was usually tolerant of the excitable young man, he was already having a miserable day and it had only just begun. Mort’s brows furrowed and he looked up in exasperation. 

“What’s the meaning of this? I hope you have a darn good explanation for printing this,” said Mort, holding up the offending piece of paper. 

Sam seemed taken aback by Mort’s question. Recovering some of his composure, he stared at Mort, a blank look on his face. 

“I didn’t make that one up, Sheriff. Honest. It came in from Casper first thing this morning.” 

His spilled coffee forgotten, Mort looked down at the paper that he was holding and reread the caption: 

“Wanted: Dead or Alive

Jess Harper, Laramie, Wyoming.

Charge: Murder

$1000 Reward.” 

Below the header was the victim’s name, a short report of the crime, and a general physical description with a charcoal sketch of the wanted murderer. Although the physical description matched Jess perfectly, it could easily have matched nearly half the young men in the county and the picture bore only a slight resemblance to Jess. The name on the poster was a bit more troubling, though. That, coupled with the physical description, could easily spell trouble for a certain raven-haired young man of whom Mort had grown quite fond. 

It was at that precise moment that Slim walked through the open door, a look of unconcealed distress on his face. Sam stepped out of the way as the tall blond man rushed past him toward the sheriff’s desk where Mort still sat, frowning at the wanted poster. 

“I need your help, Mort. Jess is in trouble.” There was no mistaking the urgency in his tone. 

“I know, Slim,” was the calm reply. 

Seeing Slim’s shocked expression, Mort handed him the poster and waited for it to register with his friend. 

Neither man noticed as the telegraph operator walked over to the prisoner and shook his hand with a wink then quietly ducked out of the office and walked past the telegraph office toward the livery stable. Within a few minutes, he was well beyond the outskirts of Laramie. 

  Chapter 4 

“I just don’t get it, Mort. How could something like this happen?” Slim tapped the edge of the poster with his finger and shook his head in disbelief. 

Mort looked over at his very apprehensive friend. He could see that Slim was itching to go out and find Jess but after a lot of persuading, Mort had finally convinced him to take a seat in one of the chairs across from his desk and recount exactly what had happened the previous night. He felt for Slim and he did not look forward to asking a very difficult question to which he needed an answer. Without it, he could not hope to do anything. 

Mort prided himself on the fact that he knew Jess Harper better than most people in town and he counted him as one of his best and most trustworthy friends. That was what made this even worse for Mort – the information on that poster had now put him in a very uncomfortable position. He hoped that Slim might be able to shed some light on the situation. 

“You’ve been in Cheyenne for the past week, haven’t you, Slim?” 

“Yes, for most of it. I just got back last night. I still don’t understand everything that’s happened but Jess is gone and the house is a mess.” Slim looked haunted as he looked up at the sheriff. “Mort, you didn’t see Daisy’s face…and Mike--” Slim closed his eyes and bowed his head. 

“Where are they now?” Mort asked softly. 

“They’re staying at the hotel where they’ll be safe…I didn’t know what else to do.” 

Mort sighed and draped his right arm over the back of his chair. It was now or never. “Slim, I hate to ask you this, but is it possible that Jess did something while you were away that could have prompted this?” He took the poster from Slim’s fingers and held it up. 

Slim looked up in disbelief. A flash of anger crossed his face and he stood up so abruptly that the chair he’d been sitting on skidded across the wooden floor and fell back with a crash. Even the prisoner who’d been gripping the bars of his cell and listening to the conversation was stunned by Slim’s reaction – he let go of the bars and sat down on his bunk in silence. 

“What are you gettin’ at, Mort?” 

Slim’s eyes blazed as he gripped the edge of Mort’s desk and leaned closer to the sheriff, staring him straight in the face. Mort always knew that Jess had quite a temper and he had experienced it more than once, but he usually thought Slim to be the cool-headed of the two. Looking up at him as he stood glowering, Mort realized just how tall and menacing Slim could be when he set his mind to it. The sheriff took his time trying to find the right words that he hoped would defuse what was becoming a very volatile and uncomfortable situation. 

“Now don’t go gettin’ your dander up, young man. Sit down and hear me out before you go and do something you’ll regret later.” 

Slim blinked a couple of times then reached over to pick up the chair that he had knocked over. He sat down as told but the look on his face sent chills down Mort’s spine. He’d seen Slim angry before but never like this. 

“There’s obviously a perfectly simple explanation for this, Slim.” 

“Oh, and what’s that? Huh, Mort? That Jess has been out shooting innocent people in the next county while I was away?” seethed Slim. 

Mort just sat and quietly watched him. He couldn’t blame Slim for the anger in his words – the whole idea of Jess being wanted for murder was preposterous. 

Slim let out a deep breath and stared at his feet. “I’m sorry, Mort. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” He looked into his friend’s endearing face, the hurt evident on his own face. 

Mort held up a hand and shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, son. I know how you feel. I’m going to send a telegram to Casper and see what I can find out from the marshal. He wouldn’t have sent out a wanted poster with a thousand-dollar bounty unless there was fairly strong evidence against Jess. It’s probably just a misunderstanding but I’d rather nip this in the bud, so-to-speak. Who knows how many people have seen this poster. I’d rather not have to risk Jess’ life any longer than we have to.” 

Slim seemed to calm down a little and he nodded in agreement. “I’ll come with you, Mort.” 

Mort stood up and started to strap on his gun belt when Slim frowned at him. 

“Little problem this morning, Mort?” Slim raised an eyebrow as he pointed at the sheriff’s very noticeably coffee-stained clothing. 

“Oh, that. Yeah, Sam here kinda startled me—” Mort started to point to the area of his office where the telegraph operator had been standing only moments earlier. “Sam! Darn that boy, never around when you need him.” 

“I wonder where he went,” mused Slim. He’d been so eager to talk to Mort that he hadn’t even noticed that his friend had been standing in the office.
”Doesn’t matter. We’ll see him soon enough – he brought this problem into my office and he’s going to help me get rid of it.” 

As the sheriff and Slim walked out of the office, the prisoner just shook his head and mumbled, ”Sheriff, you have no idea.” He grinned as he quietly unlocked his cell door with the key that had been handed him only a few moments earlier.

Shoving the key under the mattress, he stepped out of his cell and through the back door of the jail. He snorted as he watched Slim and Mort walk toward the vacant telegraph office. ‘You ain’t gonna find Sam in there,’ he thought, as he looked around the back alley, making sure that no one was watching him. Finding the saddled horse and gear that had been left for him, he mounted quickly and took off at a full gallop. He was pleased to see that he had been given a fast horse and, within a matter of minutes, he was beyond the town limits. 

It did not take him very long to find what he was looking for. With a twinkle in his eyes and a grin on his face, he jumped down from his horse and walked toward his waiting companion. 

“Everything go as planned?” asked his accomplice, staring in the direction from which the rider had just come, as though trying to reassure himself that no one had followed. 

“Just like you said, Sam, they got ‘other things’ on their minds, I reckon.” The newly freed young man laughed as he remembered how worried the sheriff and the tall blond man had appeared. 

“And nobody saw you?” 

“Course not; I did just like you told me. I even left the key under the mattress in that jail cell – should keep that poor sheriff busy for a while, lookin’ for his key and all,” he boasted proudly. 

“Good. That takes care of the set-up. Now, as long as the whiskey does the trick on the Simpson brothers, we’ll be all set. With the amount of poison I added to those bottles, they’ll be lucky to get more than a few swallows down before they’re out for good.” 

“How do you know they’re gonna drink it?” he asked, concerned. 

“Everyone has their weakness. For Clay and Jim Simpson, it’s liquor. For Jess Harper, it’s his reputation as a man with a quick temper and fast gun. My pa, well, I was his weakness. That, and trusting that skunk, Sherman, and his Great Overland Stage mail route…” he stopped suddenly, realizing what he was saying and to whom he was saying it. He didn’t need to share the details with his lamebrain cohort but the young man did not seem to hear him. 

“What about Harper?” the dark-haired man continued. “How you gonna make sure he takes the blame for killing Cal? I ain’t going back to jail for that – once is enough.” 

“Now, don’t you go worrying about that. I made sure that Clay told everyone that Harper was the one who put the slug through his youngest brother. Clay and Jim were so drunk the night Cal died, I reckon they would have believed anything I would have told them.” He smiled at the memory – it had all been so easy. “I even printed up special wanted posters just for the occasion. With that thousand-dollar incentive I arranged, I doubt Clay and Jim will ever let Harper reach Casper alive. Sides, even if he lives, the Simpson brothers won’t, and the marshal will be hard-pressed to prove it wasn’t Harper who pulled the trigger. Then, with that handsome bounty on his head…I can only imagine that Jess Harper will be a lot easier to bring in if he’s dead. No one saw you murder Cal and no one besides Mort Cory even knows you exist.” 

“But what about the sheriff in Cheyenne, the one who sent the telegram asking for Cory’s help to catch me?” he asked, still anxious for his own safety. 

“What sheriff in Cheyenne?” asked Sam, a grin on his face. “I sent that telegram – how else did you think I was going to set Harper up? I was just fortunate that you happen to bear an uncanny resemblance to him.” He paused slightly. “Then again, I planned it this way. Besides, I can take care of Jess Harper if I need to.” He took his colt from his holster and held it up. 

The dark-haired young man seemed satisfied with the explanation as he watched Sam walk over to his saddlebags and reach inside. 

“I guess you’ll be wanting your share now, huh? Then, you leave this area and don’t come back.” 

“That’s the agreement, Sam. You can count on me.” 

The young man grinned and reached out to collect the proffered bankroll. As the sound of a single shot rang out, his grin changed to shock and he collapsed in the tall grass. The young telegraph operator leaned over to look at the fallen man. ‘Guess we know what your weakness was,’ he thought as he retrieved the wad of money from the lifeless fingers. He removed everything but the saddle from the dead man’s horse then cuffed the animal on the rump. The startled horse did not hesitate and galloped down the road toward Laramie. Stuffing the money back into his saddlebag, Sam pulled himself into the saddle and pointed his horse in the opposite direction. 

He had one last loose end to tie up before he could hope to even the score with Sherman. Although he felt satisfied that his plan to rid himself of Clay and Jim Simpson was foolproof, he needed to make sure that the two saddle tramps had done the job with Harper and that the young man would no longer be a thorn in his side. Once they had served their purpose, he was going to make sure all three men weren’t around long enough to testify at his trial if it reached that point. That had been his father’s mistake and he had no intention of repeating it. 

It took him less time than he had expected to find the two men. The small fire they had built was still smouldering as he checked to make sure they were dead. He kicked dirt onto the charred remains of the fire and picked up the empty whiskey bottles that were scattered around them, looking down at the filthy men in disgust. ‘Stupid bums will never know what hit them,’ he thought as he scanned the area, hoping to see Harper’s dead body somewhere nearby. 

Disappointed at not seeing it, he knelt next to one of the larger rocks and smiled as he noted the dried blood on the ground. ‘Well, Harper, I guess I underestimated you. You’re better than I thought – must have taken advantage of them last night.’ He shook his head at the thought. ‘Then again, with the amount of booze these losers drank, I’d be more surprised if you had not gotten away. Won’t be long, though – you’re hurt now but you’ll be hurting a lot more before I’m finished with you.’ He smiled at the thought of what he was going to do when he found Jess Harper. 

He grunted as he roughly rolled the two corpses into the dense brush along the roadside and gathered the two saddled horses that were tied nearby. Holding the horses’ reins, he climbed onto his own horse and headed for the road back to Laramie. It was only a matter of time now.   

‘Everyone has their weakness,’ he thought, a devilish grin on his face. ‘And I now know yours, Sherman. You’ll pay dearly, my friend.’ 

 Chapter 5 

“Ya reckon it’s safe to stop and rest a while, Jess? You look like you’re needin’ it pretty bad right about now,” said Tom, pulling back his horse’s reins and reaching out to softly touch his riding companion’s shoulder, unsure whether or not the young man had heard him.  

The dawn sun was starting to warm the air and Jess could already hear the larks welcoming the morning. Although he would have preferred to keep going, at least until they were closer to Laramie, he was chilled to the bone and he knew he needed to stop and rest. As it was, for the past hour he had been fighting the urge to roll off Traveler’s back and collapse in the soft, welcoming grass that grew along the roadside. 

“Yeah, probably should stop. I don’t think I can stay in this saddle much longer, anyway.” 

“I have to say, you’re lookin’ mighty pale this morning, Jess. How’re you feelin’?” asked Tom, a frown of concern on his face. 

“I’ve been better,” answered Jess, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles. 

Tom jumped down from his horse then reached over and took the reins from Jess’ fingers and led the horses off the dusty road toward a large tree. He leaned over to help Jess dismount and was relieved when Jess more or less alit on his feet. Tom’s shoulders were still sore from the previous night when Jess had all but fallen out of the saddle into his arms. 

As his feet hit the soft grass, Jess grabbed his head and winced, swaying precariously while he tried to regain his balance. Tom reached out to steady him and looked up in alarm. 

“You sure you’re all right?” 

“Reckon I’ll live. At least the pounding in my head’s lettin’ me know I’ve still got one,” said Jess with a groan, massaging his forehead with one hand and pressing the other hand against his aching ribs. He leaned against Traveler for support and waited for the dizziness to subside. He could hardly put any weight on his injured knee and the light-headedness that he was feeling was not making it any easier to stay on his feet. 

Seeing Jess’ dilemma, Tom reached over and helped him limp over to a small patch of grass. Tom quickly spread out his bedroll for the weary man and helped him sit down on the stiff blanket. Between his throbbing head and aching knee, Jess was more than relieved to finally be out of the saddle. He wasted no time in stretching out as Tom gathered a few pieces of dry wood for a fire. 

“Better not make a fire, Tom. We’re gonna be real easy to find if we start sendin’ up smoke signals,” mumbled Jess.  

He wasn’t looking forward to meeting up with Clay and Jim again and he was thankful that the two brutes had been out cold when he and Tom had managed to sneak away. Tom had explained to him as well as he could why they had been after him and he had offered to help Jess get back to Laramie to clear his name. Although Slim was going to miss the two horses that they had had to leave behind with Jim and Clay, Jess figured that his living through the experience would more than make up for the loss.  

Tom looked over at Jess and watched as he painfully reached over and picked up the canteen that lay beside him. He took a few swallows then emptied what little water remained in the canteen over his head, cringing as the cool liquid trickled over his injured scalp and pooled in the grass next to his makeshift bed. Tom walked over and knelt next to him, using his bandana to wipe away some of the fresh blood that stained Jess’ neck. Although Tom was relieved to see that the bleeding had almost stopped, he was very concerned about the sheen of perspiration that had formed across Jess’ brow. He reached over and felt Jess’ flushed cheeks with the back of his hand. 

“No wonder you ain’t lookin’ so great right now. You got a fever, Jess, and you’re really shiverin’. I need to warm you up some. I don’t have a blanket so unless you know a better way to do that, I’m gonna need to make a fire. We’ll just have to take our chances.” 

Two glazed blue eyes peered up at him from beneath heavy thick lashes and Jess nodded in understanding. 

“You try an’ rest a bit and I’ll work on that fire. Maybe even rustle us up some grub.”  

Jess leaned back against the bedroll and crossed his arms, trying to control the violent shivering that had started to wrack his body. He closed his eyes and tried to think of his warm bed while he listened to the morning birdsong. 

His thoughts were interrupted when Tom gently shook his shoulder and handed him a steaming cup. He pushed himself up on one elbow and reached over for it. 

“Here, Jess. See if you can stomach some of this. Probably don’t taste too good, but at least it’s warm,” said Tom, eyeing the bruised man in the early morning sun. 

“And it’s coffee,” added Jess, breathing in the unmistakable aroma. He took a swallow of the acrid brew and frowned at the bitter taste, but he was grateful for the warmth of the liquid. 

Tom sat down on a large rock and looked at Jess. “Sorry about the taste. I reckon I’m no good at makin’ coffee,” he said with a grin. 

“No worse than Slim’s coffee,” mumbled Jess, taking another sip and silently wishing his partner was there with him. 

“You know, you keep talkin’ about him. Is he your brother?” asked Tom, watching as Jess struggled to sit up without spilling the contents of his cup. 

“No, but he’s as close to a brother as I’ve ever had,” said Jess, his tone soft. “He owns the ranch where I work – the Sherman Ranch.” He smiled fondly and looked up at Tom. “It also serves as a relay station for the Great Overland Stage Line. It’s a lot of work but it’s been worth it.” 

“So you work on a ranch, huh? How do you like that – is Slim a good man to work for?” 

“The best,” said Jess, a smile on his tired face. “I’m actually a partner now but he still makes a lot of the decisions and he gets to sit through hours of long meetings and do all the book work.” He winked and Tom grinned back. 

“How did ya meet him?” asked Tom, watching as Jess took another swallow of his coffee and frowned as he looked down at the dark liquid. 

Jess looked up at him and sighed. “It’s a long story but let’s just say that I was drifting when I kinda trespassed into his life and he never threw me out. I tried to leave a few times but Slim can be mighty persuasive when he needs to be. Don’t ever tell him this or he’d never let me live it down, but I reckon I must have been ready to settle down even though I didn’t really know it at the time…Sometimes it takes certain people a while to figure things out.” He started to shake his head then seemed to think better of it as he was again overcome by a wave of dizziness. 

“Do you ever regret it? Settlin’ down, I mean,” asked Tom. 

Jess paused for a moment then he shook his head slowly. “No, I can honestly say that I don’t. I used to think I did but I now have a home and a family, people who care whether I live or die. I’d been on the drift for so long, I didn’t think I needed it or wanted it. It’s definitely something I never thought I’d have again.” He looked at Tom, his face serious. “And you can’t beat that, Tom. You just can’t.” 

Tom looked down at the twig that he was holding and sighed. He wished that he could find a home like Jess had. It all sounded wonderful… 

“What about you? Where do you hang your hat?” asked Jess, a twinkle in his bloodshot eyes. 

Tom looked down and closed his eyes. “I reckon I don’t actually got a home right now. I’m not really on the drift but Pa’s been dead for years and Ma died a few months ago, and well, you met my brothers…” He tossed the twig into the brush and looked over at Jess, the pain and loneliness etched on his young features. 

Jess gingerly sat up straighter and set his cup down in the grass. “Well, you know, Slim and me can always use an extra hand at the ranch. We always seem to have more work than we can handle. Sides, if I’m not mistaken, you’re riding a stolen horse and I can’t think of a better way to work off the debt,” he grinned, trying to alleviate the young man’s sombre mood. “That is, if you think you’re up to ranchin’ and changin’ horses for the stage with the likes of me.” 

Tom’s solemn expression brightened and he looked up eagerly. “You mean it?” 

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t.” Jess stood up with a grunt. “But we’re gonna have to get back to Laramie in one piece before I can give you a job.” 

Tom stood up and rolled up the bedroll on which Jess had been resting then he reached over and wrapped his arm around Jess’ waist. They slowly made their way to where the horses stood grazing and Tom helped Jess get into the saddle. He did his best to make sure that Jess was as comfortable as possible, given the circumstances, and then he swung himself onto the back of his horse. 

As the two men rode silently along the dusty road in the warm morning sun, Tom smiled at the thought of possibly having finally found a real friend who could offer him the one thing for which he so dearly longed. He looked over at Jess and was pleased to see that, despite the pain that he was obviously in, he too was smiling at the prospect of getting home. 

 Chapter 6 

Slim looked up in surprise as he and Mort stepped into the empty telegraph office. He called out a few times for Sam and was met by silence. 

“Where do you think he went?” asked Slim, eyeing the stack of messages that were piled on Sam’s desk. 

Mort did not seem to hear and Slim asked him again, “Did you hear me, Mort? Did he tell you that he was planning on going anywhere?” 

Mort looked up, a look of dread on his face. Slim frowned at him. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Mort picked up the stack of papers that he had been staring at, and handed it to Slim. Slim arched an eyebrow in confusion until he read the captions. 

“Oh! No, Mort-.” 

“I know, Slim,” interrupted the troubled sheriff. Slim handed back the paperwork and sat down on the edge of the desk. 

Mort rifled through the stack of papers, allowing the information that was printed on them to fully sink in. As he read, the events of the past few hours started to become clear in his mind and he knew what he had to do. 

“What does all of it mean?” asked Slim, seeing the look of understanding on his friend’s face. 

‘Where do I start?’ thought Mort as he paced across the small room. “Let’s go back to my office, Slim. I’m still working on it but I think I may know who has Jess and what he intends to do with him.” 

Slim seemed perplexed but he followed the sheriff out of the office and across the street. As Mort opened the front door, both men noticed the strong breeze that was blowing through the small office. 

“Only way to get that much fresh air blowing through this office is if the back door is open. Wasn’t that door closed when we left, Slim?” asked Mort. 

“I could have sworn it was,” answered Slim, shutting the front door as papers blew around the room and settled on the floor. 

“Just as I thought,” said Mort, exhaling loudly as he stepped into the back room and noticed the empty jail cell. He pointed to it for Slim’s benefit. 

“It’s all making sense now, Slim,” he said, sitting down in his chair and dropping the pile of papers that he had carried from Sam’s office onto his desk. 

Slim just shook his head and frowned at Mort. “You must have gotten more sleep than I did last night because this doesn’t make any sense at all to me.” 

“Sit down,” ordered Mort, his tone harsher than he intended. “Sorry, Slim, if it’s what I’m thinking, Jess could be in far more trouble than we think and I doubt that we have much time.” 

Slim pulled a chair closer to Mort’s desk and sat down, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his thighs. 

“You testified at Sam Milton’s father’s trial, didn’t you, Slim?” 

Slim nodded his head, his confusion deepening. 

“After his father’s death, why did he come to Laramie?” asked Mort. 

Slim rubbed his chin and said, “He was pretty devastated by everything that had happened and I was feeling bad for him so I suggested that he try to make a clean start, you know, get out of Casper and try to re-establish himself. Old man Jones had just retired so I told him that he could probably take on the job as telegraph operator here in Laramie. With his education and skills, I didn’t think he’d find it too difficult and he seemed to like the idea.” 

Mort nodded in understanding and took a few deep breaths before continuing. “Don’t you think it’s odd that he’d move to the very town where the person who was responsible for his father’s death lives?” He looked up at Slim. 

“What are you saying, Mort? You’re starting to sound like Jess.” 

“What do you mean?” His brows furrowed, remembering that Jess was usually a very good judge of character. 

“He said that something was off about Sam Milton. He didn’t think that I should waste my time with him. Then I reminded him about a certain drifter who breezed in with a greased holster and trouble in both pockets who turned out to be a great friend and one of the best things that ever happened to me.” Slim looked down at his hands and smiled. “Jess didn’t really have much to say after that.” 

Slim looked up, still grinning but Mort didn’t return the whimsical expression and Slim looked questioningly at his friend. 

“I think that everything that has happened so far has been because of your testimony, Slim. And I think that Sam is using Jess to get at you.” 

Slim looked on in stunned silence. It took him nearly a full minute to find his voice again. 

“What do you mean?” 

“All those wanted posters and telegrams that were supposed to be pranks; the fact that Sam latched onto you as a friend as quickly as he did but that he didn’t take to Jess at all. Everything right down to Jess being attacked by the Simpson brothers while you were away and on the same evening that I was so darned busy chasing after, well,” he pointed to the empty jail cell in frustration, “chasing after a man who isn’t wanted anywhere as far as I know. It’s all just a little too coincidental for my tastes, Slim.” 

Slim leaned back in his chair, looking dejected. “It’s all my fault, then. If he’s hurt Jess-” 

“Hold your horses, son. Let’s figure this all out before we go doing anything rash. That won’t help Jess any. If only someone else in town knew how to operate that darn telegraph office…” Mort slapped his desk in frustration. 

“What about Sally?” asked Slim, remembering the girl who usually spent as much time in Sam’s office as he did. 

“What about her?” asked Mort, unsure as to what Slim was alluding. 

“She spends all her free time in that office. I think she fancies Sam but she may have picked up on a few things. Seems he was showing her how to use the telegraph machine once when I stopped by to see him.” 

Mort raised his eyebrows and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. 

“I’ll go get her – I think she works at the General Store at this time of day,” continued Slim, rising from his chair and stepping out the front door. 

Less than ten minutes later, he returned with a very petite young woman on his arm. She looked up at the sheriff and blushed. 

“Sit down, Sally.” 

She moved over to the chair that Slim had occupied as Slim crossed his arms and leaned against the wall next to Mort. 

“Did Slim tell you why we need to talk to you, Sally?” The young woman nodded and the sheriff continued. “Do you know anything about sending or receiving telegrams?” 

Sally seemed ashamed as she looked down at her hands. “Does this have something to do with the pranks that Sam was planning?” she asked, biting her lip. 

“What pranks?” asked Slim, speaking softly. 

Sally looked up at him. “Sam said that he was planning a special prank for the sheriff and for Jess Harper. He told me that it was going to be a lot of fun and he asked me if I’d like to help him.” She wrung her hands and continued to chew on her bottom lip. 

“Well, go on. What was this special prank supposed to be?” asked Mort in frustration. 

Hearing the sheriff’s tone, she looked up at Slim in alarm but he smiled at her, hoping to encourage her to continue her story. 

“A couple of days ago, he received a telegram saying that someone named Cal Simpson was dead. He wouldn’t let me read it but whatever it said made Sam very happy. That’s when he printed up a wanted poster with a thousand dollar reward for Jess. Sam told me that he was going to set Jess up but when I told him that I didn’t think that was a very good idea, he got very angry with me. He said that no one outside of Laramie would ever hear about it and that everyone in town knows that Jess wouldn’t kill anyone so he wouldn’t really be in danger. That’s also when he made up a telegram from a sheriff in Cheyenne. He said that it would be a lot of fun to see Jess getting chased down for a bounty that didn’t exist and to see you, Sheriff, running across the county after a man who wasn’t wanted.” 

“And you helped him with all this?” asked Slim, incredulous. 

“I thought it would be fun but I see now that it was wrong. Jess isn’t going to get hurt, is he?” She looked up at Slim, her brown eyes brimming with tears. 

Slim appeared disgusted with her and sighed as he looked at Mort. Then he seemed to realize what she had said. 

“Did you say that Cal Simpson was dead?” asked Slim, not hiding his shock at the information. 

“Yes, that was one telegram that wasn’t a joke. It came in just the other day and Sam seemed happy about it. He said he was testing a new way of sending messages and that it had worked. He said it was part of the prank he was going to play on you, Slim; he wanted you to get a very special message.” 

Realization finally dawning on him, Slim sank down onto the edge of Mort’s desk. ‘Oh, I get the message alright, Sam,’ he thought, suddenly feeling sick.  Mort gently touched his sleeve and he held up a hand in response. 

“I’m okay, Mort.” 

“Can I go now, Sheriff? I’m supposed to be working and I’ll be in trouble if I stay away from the store for too long,” said Sally, oblivious to Slim and Mort’s distress. She stood up and straightened her skirt. 

Mort nodded and she rushed out the door, eager to get away. Slim walked over to the chair and sat down, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“How could I have been so wrong about him? Cal’s dead and now Jess is gone…It just doesn’t make any sense, Mort.” He looked up and Mort leaned forward, clasping his fingers together and looking into Slim’s concerned eyes. 

“You didn’t know Sam’s father, did you, Slim?” asked Mort. 

“No, just what I saw of him whenever he and Sam rode the stage together and again during the trial.” 

“Well, I knew him quite well and frankly, that’s why I was surprised when Sam decided to settle here in Laramie.” 

Slim inclined his head and frowned, not understanding. 

“Sam Milton Sr. was a special case. His first job was to prepare court documents and affidavits for Judge Donaldson over in Sheridan. Apparently he was very good at it, some say too good. It didn’t take him very long to realize that there was more money to be made using his talents on the other side of the law. He somehow managed to set the judge up and get him sent to prison and, to this day, I don’t think anyone really knows just how he pulled it off.” 

“Where does his son fit into this?” asked Slim, thoroughly engrossed in Mort’s story. 

“Seems Sam Sr. met up with a saloon girl and she got pregnant. He didn’t want to marry her so he waited until Sam was born then he took the child away and disappeared; but not before he made sure to prepare all the right paperwork to make it appear as though she had allowed him to become the child’s sole legal guardian. As far as I know, she’s still living in Sheridan but she’s married now. You know, Slim, even with a young child in his care, he managed to avoid the law for almost twenty years. I was actually really surprised when he allowed himself to get caught so easily when he and Sam Jr. resurfaced in Laramie a few months ago.” 

“Yeah, that’s when I first met Sam Jr. He arranged for a regular route for his business and he asked to use the Relay Station as a drop-off point. It was actually a pretty good deal until I found out what was really going on. Sam told me that he didn’t know what his Pa was really doing and he seemed quite upset when he found out about his Pa’s criminal activities. That’s why I testified against him at the trial.” 

“Uh, huh,” said Mort, rubbing his chin, deep in thought. “You know, there was something else about Sam Milton Sr. that most people didn’t realize.” 

Slim waited for Mort to continue. 

“It takes a very clever man to do what he did for all those years without getting caught. In twenty years, he never once pulled a gun on someone who didn’t draw on him first and he was never accused of murder until a few months ago. But that’s not to say that he didn’t leave a path of destruction behind him. I just don’t think he ever killed anyone unless he absolutely had to in order to save his own skin or his son’s.” 

“Are you saying he was an ‘honourable’ criminal, Mort?” asked Slim, raising an eyebrow. 

Mort’s face crinkled as he grinned at the irony of Slim’s question, then his expression became serious again. “No, nothing like that. But he always managed to get back at anyone who crossed him and he usually didn’t have to resort to violence to get it done. I have no doubt that he taught his son to do the same.” 

“Then why did he have Cal killed?” asked Slim, assuming the obvious. 

“That’s what I’m trying to understand. He probably thought it would be easier. That way, he would have something to pin on Jess. He’s likely going to use Jess against you, Slim, and you’re the one that I’m sure he’s out to get. Remember, Cal never would have had the courage to take the stand if you had not offered to testify as well. I’d say that’s a pretty strong reason for him to be out for revenge.” 

Slim cringed as he thought of Sam harming Jess to get to him. 

Just as Slim started to speak up again, the office to Mort’s office burst open and a very distraught man ran to Mort’s side. 

“You better come outside, Sheriff. A rider just come in with a dead man slung across the back of his horse. The man’s been shot!” He rushed back toward the door and looked over his shoulder, anxious for the sheriff to follow. 

Slim and Mort exchanged glances as they both stood up and walked out of the office and into the street. Mort didn’t know the man who held the horse’s reins but he gasped when he recognized the dead man on the horse. It was his prisoner who had escaped earlier that morning. 

“Mort isn’t that…?” asked Slim, following behind as Mort walked over to get a closer look. 

“Yeah, Slim. Looks like he’s cleaning up as he goes along.  First Cal and now this poor lad,” said Mort. He touched the young man’s cold face and nodded. “Best get him to the undertaker. There’s nothing any of us can do for him now.” 

Mort walked over to the man who had been holding the horse’s reins. “Are you the one who found him?” he asked. 

“I am, Sheriff. I have a place a few miles this side of Laramie. I was just comin’ into town to pick up some supplies and I saw him lyin’ by the side of the road. At first, I thought he’d been thrown from his horse but then I noticed the hole in his chest. I didn’t think it was a good idea to just leave him there.” He looked at the sheriff, hoping for his approval. 

Mort nodded. “You did the right thing.” 

The man smiled and hurried to catch up with the group of men who were leading his horse and its charge toward the undertaker’s office. Mort gave Slim a look and both men walked in the direction of the livery stable.

  Chapter 7 

Jess slowed his horse as Tom stopped a few feet ahead of him and pointed into the distance. 

“What do you think that is?” asked Tom, waiting for Jess to catch up to him. 

Jess looked up and noticed the cloud of dust in the distance. He had to squint but he was able to make out what appeared to be a single rider. 

“Looks like a rider. Whoever it is must be in some special kind of hurry, kicking dust up like that.” He shook his head and urged Traveler forward. 

Tom followed and within a short while, they caught up to the crazed rider. Noticing the two men on horseback in the middle of the road, he pulled back hard on the reins to slow his horse. The stunned animal reared up on its hind legs but the rider managed to stay in the saddle as he hung on for dear life. 

Seeing his dilemma, Jess carefully jumped down from Traveler’ back and hobbled over as quickly as he could to the frightened animal. He stepped in front of the horse and reached up to grab the bridle, speaking softly as he tried to rub the horse’s head. Tom sat in silence as he watched the startled horse calm at the gentle touch and rest its head on Jess’ shoulder. 

Jess smiled at the contented animal as he continued to stroke the horse’s mane then his expression changed to annoyance and he looked up at the breathless rider. “Just what do you think you’re doin’, racing a horse like that? Someone could get killed and I don’t just mean you.”  

The dust-covered rider looked down at Jess and grinned. “Hi Jess,” he said, jumping down from the saddle and brushing dust from his clothing. 

Jess recognized the man and shook his head in disgust. “Sam Milton – I shoulda known. You’re the only one fool enough to push a horse like that…. Where’s the fire?” he asked. 

“Well, I was actually looking for you. I didn’t know what shape you’d be in and I wanted to find you before anyone else did.” He smiled disarmingly but Jess just continued to glare at him. 

“What are you saying?” he asked, harshly.  

“You see, Jess, it’s like this,” he paused and drew his gun so quickly that Jess dropped the bridle he’d been holding. 

Jess reached for his own gun, shocked to realize that it was not where it should be, and then he remembered that his gun belt was still slung over the back of his chair at home. He looked at Sam and his eyes blazed. “What’s the meaning of this, Sam?” he muttered through clenched teeth. 

“Oh, you’ll find out soon enough. Now tell your friend there to throw down his gun…slowly.” He waved the gun at Tom. 

Jess turned slightly and looked up over his shoulder at Tom, nodding for him to throw down his gun. Tom frowned but did as told. The gun landed less than a foot from where Jess stood. 

“Don’t get any ideas, Harper,” Sam said, pulling back the hammer and aiming his gun at Jess’ chest. “Now, tell your friend to get down off his horse.” 

Tom dismounted and slowly walked over to stand beside Jess. He frowned when he noticed how pale Jess’ face was and he reached out just in time to catch him as Jess’ legs buckled under him. 

“Looks like you’re not feeling all that well right now, Harper. What happened?” Sam asked with a sneer. 

Jess draped his arm around Tom’s shoulders and tried to stay on his feet. He blinked a couple of times and wiped his hand across his face as he felt a rush of heat on his cheeks. 

“I’ll be fine, just didn’t get much sleep last night.” 

Sam laughed and shook his head. “I just don’t get you, Harper. You should be dead right now, just like those Simpson brothers who took you. That’s how I planned it,” he said as he lowered his eyes. 

Jess felt Tom slightly sag against him at the words but Sam did not seem to notice. 

Sam looked up again, disdain on his face. “Just how did you get away from them, Jess?” 

Jess looked at Sam and shook his head, refusing to answer. “What do you mean, that’s how you planned it?” he asked. 

“Oh, that’s right. You don’t know everything that’s happened, do you?” Sam threw back his head and laughed. Jess tried to ignore the pounding in his head as he continued to stare at Sam. 

“Where should I start?” Sam mused, tapping a finger against his leg. “I wouldn’t want to bore you with all the specific details but what you should know is that your friend Sherman is going to die and you are going to help me do it.” 

Jess looked up in shock. 

“What? You don’t think I can do it? Who do you think set things up for you to get blamed for the Simpson murder in the first place? Or didn’t you know that’s why Cal was killed? Well, that, and because he chose to testify at my Pa’s trial. I realized that if I could get you in enough trouble, Sherman would be sure to come looking for you and I would be able to settle a score with him. Isn’t he always riding out to your rescue, Harper?” 

Jess scowled at him and Tom had to tighten his grip on Jess’ arm. 

“But you weren’t supposed to live this long and now you’ve even managed to get an innocent man involved. I guess it won’t hurt to kill all three of you when good old Slim comes riding up to save the day.” He smiled and waved his gun at Jess. “Now, move over to those rocks. We’ll wait for him there.” He looked at Tom, “And you - get the horses.” 

Jess staggered over to a large rock and sank down, stretching out his sore leg in front of him and massaging his swollen knee. Tom tied the horses to a large tree and joined Jess on the mound of rocks. Sam propped his foot up on a smaller rock and hunched over slightly, resting an arm on his thigh and pointing the gun at Jess and Tom. 

“What’s your plan now?” asked Jess gravely. 

Tom looked at Jess in concern. Although Jess was trying to look and sound confident, Tom could hear that his deep voice was weak and he was very pale and his cheeks were unnaturally pink. 

“Here, lean against me, Jess,” he whispered and Jess gratefully took him up on the offer. 

“My plan? My plan is that we wait. I made sure to leave plenty of clues behind for Sherman to follow and I doubt whether it will take him very long to find us. He won’t know what hit him when he comes to find you.” He looked at Jess with a satisfied smirk. 

Jess glowered at him. ‘Just wait’ll I get my hands on you, Milton.’

  Chapter 8 

“Are you sure this is the way he would have come, Mort?” asked Slim, taking off his hat and wiping his arm across his face. The temperature was already soaring and it was not even noon yet. 

Mort looked at him and leaned over his saddle horn. “It has to be, Slim. The Simpson boys would have tried to get Jess back to Casper for that reward and this is the fastest and easiest way to get there.” He looked into the distance and rubbed his eyes. He was not mistaken – he could see the definite glint of metal in the bright sun. “I have a feeling we’re going to meet up with them a lot sooner than we think.” 

Slim put his hat back on and looked at him questioningly. Mort pointed to a small clearing less than a mile away and Slim nodded in understanding. 

“We probably should keep going on foot. Wouldn’t want to let them know we’re here any sooner than we really need to,” said Slim, swinging out of the saddle while Mort did the same. Mort waited by the roadside and checked his rifle while Slim tied the horses to a tree a few feet from the road. 

The two men cautiously approached the small camp, using the dry grass and brush that grew along the roadside for cover. Mort knelt behind a large bush and motioned for Slim to do the same then he silently pointed at Jess. Slim gasped when he saw the shape his best friend was in. Jess was sitting on a rock with his leg stretched out in front of him and he was leaning heavily against a much younger man that Slim did not recognize. His face was badly bruised and Slim could make out the lines of pain etched on his lean features.  

At the sound of Slim’s gasp, Jess looked up and anxiously motioned to his left with his head, trying to get Slim to understand. Slim nodded and trained his eyes over the area, trying to determine what was causing Jess so much unease. Tom jumped up as Sam stepped out from behind the bushes, raised his gun at Slim, and prepared to fire. Tom felt Jess shift against him and try to get Slim’s attention as he watched Sam aim his gun. 

“Look out, Slim! He’s got a gun!”  

Jess collapsed as Sam rushed toward him and struck him across the face with his gun. Tom quickly knelt beside the unconscious man and looked up helplessly. 

Uncontrollable anger welled up inside Slim and he shot up from where he’d been crouching, his gun drawn. Sam turned to look at him, all the while pointing his Colt at Jess. 

“Better put that away, Sherman. Last thing Harper needs is a bullet between the eyes.” He laughed coarsely. “It really hasn’t been a good day for him so far and you wouldn’t want to make it worse, would you?” 

Still hidden behind the bushes, Mort tugged at Slim’s pant leg and whispered to him. The taller man nodded in understanding. As Mort silently crept away, Slim stepped forward and tossed his gun at Sam’s feet, raising his hands as he approached the man he had once thought of as a friend. 

“Good, that’s a lot better. Did you come alone?” Sam asked, looking past him at the bushes from which he’d just emerged. 

“You know I did.” Slim looked down at Jess, who was showing signs of coming around. 

Jess groaned and grabbed his head as Tom helped him sit up. Still holding his head, he looked at Slim and blinked several times as he tried to clear his blurred vision. 

“You okay, Jess?” Slim asked, concerned. 

Jess nodded slightly and leaned against Tom as he tried to stand up. He winced as he wiped away some of the blood that was trailing down his face from a fresh cut on his cheek. 

Sam just laughed and looked at Slim. “How touching! Why don’t you go stand next to him? Tom here must be getting pretty tired of supporting your friend and it looks like he could definitely use some more help to stay upright.” 

Tom reluctantly moved out of the way as Slim hurried to Jess’ side and wrapped his arm around his partner’s slender frame. Jess reached up and draped his arm across the taller man’s shoulders for support and slumped against him. Slim looked down at him with a frown of concern. 

“Are you sure you’re gonna be okay, Jess?” he asked softly. 

Jess nodded slightly but he did not raise his head to look at Slim. It was all he could do to stay conscious and he didn’t think that his head would take any more movement than it really had to. He was having a lot of trouble seeing straight and he didn’t want to give Sam the satisfaction of watching him pass out in Slim’s arms. 

Just then, a shot rang out from behind them and Sam’s gun went flying out of his hand. He looked up in astonishment as Mort walked into his line of sight, pointing his rifle at the stunned man. 

“Hold it right there, Sam. Don’t make me do something I may regret later.” 

Sam seemed to recover some of his composure and he smiled warmly at the sheriff. “But Sheriff Cory, this is all simply a great misunderstanding. You see, this is just a prank that I’m pulling on Sherman and-” 

“I’ve had just about enough of your pranks, young man,” interrupted Mort. “This one’s gone too far. You’re coming back to Laramie with me and we’ll straighten this all out once we get there.” 

Sam looked down in resignation and clenched his fists. Slim gently lowered Jess to the ground and rushed over to handcuff Sam’s hands while Mort kept the thirty-thirty trained on him. Tom walked over to the large tree where three horses were tied and led them back to where Mort and his prisoner still stood. 

“Mort, can you handle Sam on your own?” asked Slim. “I need to get Jess on a horse and in to see a doctor as soon as possible.” 

“I’ll help you Sheriff, if you would like me to,” offered Tom. He held out his hand and introduced himself. “My name is Tom Simpson.” 

Mort looked up and shook his hand. “Fine with me but I don’t really think I’ll need much help. Tom, why don’t you get Slim’s and my horse? They’re tied up the road a ways.” Tom nodded and hurried away. “Help me get Sam on a horse, Slim.” 

Slim walked over and helped Mort roughly pushed Sam onto one of the horses then Mort took out an extra length of rope. He and Slim had just finished securing Sam to the saddle when Tom walked up with Mort’s horse. The sheriff mounted up, holding the reins from his horse and Sam’s. 

Mort tipped his hat and smiled at Tom. “Come to think about it Tom, Slim might need you more than I will. At least my prisoner is conscious. It’s likely to be fairly slow-going for the three of you.” He looked down at Jess then at Slim and smiled. “Take good care of Jess and I’ll see you in Laramie, Slim.” He urged his horse forward and galloped down the road with Sam close behind. 

Slim sighed and walked over to Jess’ side. “Boy, someone sure did a number on him.” He shook his head and knelt next to his friend. “Do you want to help me get him onto his horse?” he asked Tom. 

Slim carefully lifted Jess into his arms and, with Tom’s help, sat him in the saddle. Jess slumped forward and Slim reached out to prevent him from falling off. 

“Well, this isn’t going to work,” he said, shaking his head and holding onto Jess’ limp arm. 

“Slim, why don’t I ride with him? I don’t think we’d be too heavy for his horse and that way, I can make sure he stays where he belongs,” offered Tom. 

Slim took off his hat and ran his hands through his hair as he thought it over. He looked down at the shorter man and smiled. “It can’t hurt, but in that case, I think it would be best not to ride Jess’ horse. Traveler can be a bit particular about who is on his back and I wouldn’t want him throwing you. But if you don’t mind sharing a saddle, I’m sure that Jess’ll appreciate it. There’s no way I’m tying him to a horse so that sounds like the best idea.” 

Slim carefully carried Jess to one of the taller horses then he helped Tom climb up behind him. Tom reached out and gently put his arms around Jess’ waist, allowing the unconscious man’s head to rest against his shoulder. 

Slim grinned as he looked at the two men. Tom frowned. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, curious as to what could be making the taller man smile at a time like this. 

Slim shook his head. “I can just imagine what Jess will think when he comes to and finds himself wrapped in your arms like that.” 

Tom smiled at the thought and watched Slim climb onto his horse then take hold of Traveler’s reins and pull the horse closer to Alamo. 

As Tom urged his horse forward, the movement made Jess moan and Slim turned to look at him, worry etched on his face. 

“Slim, I want to say I’m sorry,” said Tom quietly. 

Slim looked over at him and frowned. “Sorry for what, Tom?” he asked, slowing Alamo’s pace to match Tom’s horse. 

“My brothers are the ones who did this to Jess.” He cringed as he cradled the injured man in his arms. 

Slim reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “What your brothers did is their business. Seems to me, you were the one who was helping him when Mort and I arrived, and you’re the one who’s helping him now.”  He smiled at Tom. “I’m grateful to you for that and I can imagine that Jess will be too, when he comes to.” 

 Tom smiled as Slim turned his attention back to the road and urged his horse onward. Watching him ride ahead, he could understand why Jess thought so much of Slim Sherman and he hoped that he would have a chance to get to know the man better.

  To Chapter 9