Chapter Ten

Jess landed on the ground, rolling on impact, the flesh of his upper arm recoiling where the bullet had hit. He came to a stop, allowing the ground to be the pressure for his wound, and although blood's flow wouldn't be completely eradicated, his position would do well to hide the dark red that was soaking into his clothes. It was only a graze, but the man that had pulled the trigger didn't know that, and a second, more lethal bullet could be triggered if Jess was found alive. Sensing the approach, a necessary check by Rex of his accuracy, Jess drew completely still, not even allowing breaths to be drawn in and out of his lungs. A boot kicked into his broken ribs, the eruption of returned pain nearly undoing his pretense, but Jess remained the position of a dead man. As the steps turned back in the opposite direction, Jess began to breathe again.

When the presence was no longer felt, Jess raised his head from the ground and shook it back and forth, the ringing in his ears taking on a different tone, now coming more as a whirr, slowing and then intensifying, but seemingly still muting out all normal sounds. Sitting up, Jess trailed his eyes around the area, looking for the man that had put him on the ground, but there was nothing in sight, nothing even moving except what the wind touched. Jess pulled the collar of Mort's coat tighter around his neck as he stood, the wind picking up in velocity as it poured in from the north, making the limbs on the trees and the brush dance and sway. He pushed a lock of wayward hair away from his ear, the cacophony inside of his head matching the way the wind continuously curled his unkempt strands back and forth over his forehead and suddenly Jess' hand paused through his hair. The ringing was dissipating, as the whirr began to increase, just like the air that swirled all around him.

Jess stuck a finger in his ear, his brain recognizing more than just the touch, and something close to excitement started fluttering in his middle. Jess' eyes followed the movement of the wind, and every whoosh, whistle and rustling that it made coordinated with the pattern coming from his ears. The dawning realization started like the flicker of light on the horizon at sunrise, in seconds, growing to the pulsating orb of noon. The whirr was the wind, and Jess had heard every blessed note of it.

"I'll be dad-gummed," Jess said aloud, his lips spreading into a smile at the sound of his voice.

Jess took a step, searching for the specifics of nature's noises, but moving brought the returned sting of the splitting of his flesh, and as Jess tightened his hand around the wound, something else tightened around his memory. The wind wasn't all that he'd heard, but something else had preceded it. The bullet hadn't been the only thing that had knocked him out of the saddle, but Jess had heard the crack of the rifle that went with it. The explosion had been dull, an almost hollow bang, like it had come from a lengthier distance than where Rex had waited. But it was real. Sound had returned, perhaps only in a dimmer part, but it had come before Jess even noticed its welcoming embrace. He had reacted normally to the sound as much as the pain, the ongoing fight for survival putting him on the ground before Rex pulled the trigger again. After traveling through the ongoing turmoil of silence, Jess could hear again. Yet, there would be little time to revel in its glory. He still had loved ones to be fighting for, and that reality was about to become strikingly real.

Jess was only allowed to take one step before he whipped his head toward the southwest. Shots. They sounded like a dull drumbeat to his ears, but it was unmistakably gunfire. And it came from the ranch house. There was no way to know the imagery that went with the sound, whether it was Slim doing the firing or the receiving, but there could be no delay in finding out. Jess searched quickly for his horse, grateful that the unfamiliar mount hadn't fled as he'd dropped from the saddle, and hurrying to the horse's side he mounted in one easy motion, directing the animal to run as soon as his backside hit leather, the names of Slim and Andy hammering inside of his chest with each beat of his heart.

…

Nothing moved. The gun in Cross' hand was as stilled as the one in Andy's, their eyes boring into each other so fiercely it was as if they were looking into each other's souls. It had been Slim that saw the derringer's presence first, the changing expression on his face making Cross' gaze flick away from his target, to find Andy's young hand trained steadily upon him. There was no trembling of his limbs, no sweat pouring from his brow, no biting of a lip, nothing that existed when the same hand pointed a gun at his brother, as somewhere along the line, the boy had found his rock of strength. And it was all aimed at Cross.

Andy kept his stance steadied, his hand surprisingly unwavering. He had been ready to fire with Jess' guiding words leading him forward, but before Andy pulled the trigger, he had remembered one more, and his hesitance completely hinged on its memory. If there's a live target on the other side of your gun, pause first, and think it through. Andy knew Jess' advice depended on the type of live target, as hunting game and potentially killing a man were two entirely different scenarios, but he knew the reason for the warning. You don't fire on a living being unless you have to. This time, most assuredly, with Cross' gun at a deadly point in Slim's direction, it was necessary.

"What're you going to do, kid?" Cross asked, his voice taunting, as his cold eyes still held tightly to Andy's.

"Kill you if I have to," Andy responded, and instead of his backbone quivering under the intense pressure, he felt it solidify. "But we can end this before it goes that far. Just drop your gun and it'll be over."

"You think it'd be that simple?" Cross asked through his snake-like lips, barely allowing a shake to form on his head. "Me surrender? To a kid? Never."

So this was it. Andy's offer was thrown back in his face, and now the next phase was in his hand. But what was really in Andy's hand was a gun. It might have been small, both palm and weapon, but there was also a form of power that resided in each. Andy ran through Jess' steps again, the point made, the aim being led by his point, and the pause for thinking it through. The completion would come upon firing. Andy pulled the trigger, the bullet not making any contact with flesh as it found its mark in the ground, exactly where he'd pointed it, but came close enough to penetrating flesh to make Cross jump, the slight opening of the outlaw's mouth proving that he'd underestimated Andy's ability.

"The next one won't miss, Cross," Andy said, his voice only carrying a small mark of the fear that raced inside of his body, showing that Jess' presence was still active inside of him. "I mean it."

"Then do it," Cross challenged, his eyes in narrowed slits as he focused on Andy's grip on the derringer. "But remember, kid, you only have one bullet left. One. So you better make it count, and I know how you can shoot. You're not good. You'll never hit me. And I still have enough bullets in mine to make a pretty poignant comeback."

"I only need one," Andy said, his finger starting to pull on the trigger. Andy knew both gun and hand had never wavered, and Cross knew the same, the sinister man was only trying to get inside of his head. But there was no room for the negativity to fit, when he was already filled with Jess. A worried brother, however, couldn't see everything that resided inside.

"Andy, no!" Slim shouted, knowing that another miss would bring Cross' trigger to be pulled on Andy instead. Slim's own life being on the line was forgotten, but everything about Andy's life, from the moment his mother laid the wailing infant in his arms, to the eventual day where he would watch his little brother walk the woman of his dreams down an aisle, and everything in between was emphasized in his shout, because it could all be over in mere seconds if Andy didn't put a bullet in Cross. But then there was the opposite side of the coin. If Andy did hone his accuracy and shoot Cross, the action would be justified, but could Slim allow the guilt of death that he knew would suddenly be on Andy's shoulders to live with the rest of his life? "Andy, please…"

"Shut up, Sherman!" Cross changed the position of his gun, hitting Slim with its butt, the crack across his jaw creating an instant lump to form, but also a break in his skin to bring a steady flow of blood down his jaw line, but Slim would never feel it. His head dropped to the ground the same moment his eyes closed, the world around him shut out as his only awareness was his own darkness. "It's just you and me, kid."

There it was again. Jess' wisdom. Or perhaps it was better described as a warning. He had to think before he completed the required action. Everything spilled quickly over Andy's mind, his thoughts expressing the evidence from the moment their horror had begun. And it could be ended with one bullet, as long as that bullet came from his gun. Every time Andy had been by Jess' side, the pupil listening intently to the teacher, only inanimate objects had seen the wrath of their bullets. This time it was a man. Decidedly different than when Andy held a shaking gun on Slim, and this was the very man that forced him to shoot his brother. Even though Slim's words in the cave eased some of the guilt, it hadn't been fully erased, but putting an end to Cross would help soothe the remainder.

It wasn't only Slim and Andy that had suffered Cross' harm. This was the man that had been responsible for all of their suffering, posse men dying, his own cohort's death, and it had come close to having Jess be counted among the dead more than once. As it was, this was the man responsible for Jess' hearing loss. He would never forget any of that. But there was something else that Andy couldn't forget. There was a man's life on the other side of his gun. Pulling the trigger could end that life. There was no doubt in Andy's mind that Cross deserved to die. But could Andy be the one to do it?

"What do you say, kid?" Cross leered at Andy's hesitance. "You man enough?"

There was no one else to guide him. Slim was unconscious and Jess was nowhere in sight. Although Jess' directions still rotated through his mind, they couldn't exactly tell him what to do. Jess' knowledge Andy could obtain, but this wasn't a game of pretense where he could envision himself as the mighty Jess Harper anymore. He was Andy Sherman. The gun was in his hand. It was his finger on the trigger. It would be his decision to pull it. And as Cross began to raise his gun in his direction, Andy let it fire.

The bullet slammed into Cross, hitting him in the side, the force knocking the outlaw onto his back with a guttural cry. Andy felt stunned, seeing the result of his actions there on the ground, but there wasn't anything applauding in his insides. He'd shot a man. But he hadn't killed a man. Death wasn't Andy's intent, only to strike the man before he could do so himself. The point of the gun and the point of entry hadn't been too far off, but was enough of a difference that Cross wouldn't remain where he'd dropped. And the derringer was empty.

"You shouldn't have done that," Cross raised himself from the ground, the pitch of his voice suddenly turning deadly as the gun in his hand found an even point to Andy's chest. "I don't care anymore that I could've used you. Kid or no kid, you made your choice to fight like a man, and now you're going to die like one."

Cross meant every word. Andy could see by the sudden switch from an icy stare to a fiery one that he would follow through with his threat. The derringer slowly released from Andy's hand and dropped to the ground. Even though its bullets had already been released, rendering it useless, it was only when it hit the muddy ground that the impact of its loss hit Andy. Maybe he should have pointed differently, but there was no sense going back over any could have's or would have's now. He was living in this moment, and now, that moment was about to end with his life. Andy took a gentle breath, his eyes drifting closed and waited, his thoughts settling on the love of his family in Slim, Jonesy and Jess. After all, love was supposed to last forever and ever.

And there was a man intending on keeping it held in a heart for a much lengthier amount of time.

Jess.

In one glance, a multiple of horrors slammed into Jess, the horse underneath him obeying his swifter command at what was on display below him. Slim lying motionless on the ground would have been enough to build an intense fury inside of his veins, but there was something worse. Cross had Andy in his sights. An explosion like the one that had stolen his hearing erupted in Jess' chest, the thunder reverberating until it found its escape through his mouth.

"Cross!"

Jess' shout drained every speck of color on the outlaw's face as if he had seen a ghost, but there was no deathly pallor on Jess' cheeks. It was something closer to fire, the burning sensation going all the way down Jess' arm and into the gun that now filled his hand. Jess was real. Living, breathing, and every inch of him spitting mad. Jess dismounted, his gun solid, but the opposing one starting to shake as it turned in his direction. There would be no ducking for cover, no hitting dirt, no rolling along the ground to dodge Cross' incoming bullets, but Jess would take him head on, no matter how many times Cross pulled the trigger. He was there to save Andy, not himself, and Jess was willing to die to complete that saving, but if that fate would find him, he wouldn't be dying alone. Cross would be going with him.

Cross pulled the trigger first, his haste making a mistake, the bullet only running through air, not coming in contact with anything until it met the brushy hillside. Jess returned the fire, but there wouldn't be a mistake coming from his hand. The moment Cross was struck, he made another attempt, lining Jess' chest up with his eye, and as he let the bullet fly, Cross smiled, expecting Jess to be the one that fell first, but the lead never touched him, the miss narrow, but coming close would never count. Jess tossed one more bullet and Cross received it with a sputtered moan. All he needed was to take one more step, and then Jess stood nearly on top of the man, the gun rising in one last desperate attempt to kill, and then Cross pulled the trigger. But there was nothing left in Cross' gun. And there was little left in Cross' life. He dropped his head against his chest, his eyes closing, his heart failing, dropping onto the ground until there was nothing left.

"He's dead," Jess said, his eyes staying upon Cross' body for several seconds before turning to look at Andy. He expected Andy to be white with shock, trembling in fear, but what he saw was the vision of his own youth, a young man standing strong. Andy's countenance only changed when a groan came from Slim's chest, his feet running quickly to his brother's side.

"Slim," Andy touched Slim's cheek, smiling when he saw the fluttering of lashes and the soft blue that was underneath them. "Are you all right, Slim?"

"Andy," relief flooded Slim's face as Andy helped him into a seated position, his eyes full of his brother and the life that continued to radiate from his being. He shifted his gaze to see Jess, the relief ready to spring anew at the sight of his partner, but then a shadow darkened Slim's face as he saw the dead man on the ground. "Cross?"

"Jess killed him," Andy explained, giving Slim his hand as he made the attempt to rise up to his feet. "I shot him, trying to save you, but mine wouldn't have been permanent. Jess killed him to save me."

"I see," Slim settled his eyes upon Jess, standing still next to the dead man, his expression, like with all of the men that Jess had been forced to kill, was solemn.

Jess turned his head, his eyes colliding with Slim's, their message of gratitude, both given and received, passed between them in a single nod. The gesture was short, but it carried an insurmountable weight of their caring friendship. The slight curving of Jess' lip in an upward motion began to fade, his feet starting for the house with the need to refill his weapon. When a gun belt was buckled around his hips, Jess returned outdoors, bringing a box of shells with him to place in Slim's hand. It still wasn't over. There was still one more. Rex. Had he fled, or was he lying somewhere in waiting, like he had been for Jess with rifle poised? Jess scanned the hillside with his eyes, but it wouldn't be his eyes that found his answer, but his ears.

"Shots," Jess turned his head toward the easterly road, the gun in his hand quickly following in the same direction. There were too many to be one man. Mort and his ragtag posse must have caught up. "Sounds like a back and forth battle."

"Slim," Andy put his hand on his brother's arm as Jess hopped back into the saddle. "Did Jess just say, 'sounds like'?"

"I'm pretty sure he did," Slim ushered his brother toward the house. "Better get inside, Andy, and don't come out until Jess or I get back."

As soon as a gun was loaded and tucked into his belt line, Slim hurried for the horse that had brought him to the ranch house, following the imprints in the mud of Jess' leading mount. The firing continued, a singular rifle, handguns and the distinct blast of a shotgun, and although the steady stream of gunplay didn't cease, the posse wasn't gaining ground. Slim spotted Jess as his partner's feet hit the dirt, his own position too far behind to give Jess any assistance and since Slim wasn't going to pull up and wait to see what would happen next, he turned his horse to join the battling posse.

Jess silently crept closer to Rex, using a couple of well-placed rocks as his shield, climbing until he reached a vantage point where he could see the man bearing the rifle and the leader with the star on his chest. Rex might have only been one man, but he had Mort and his companions pinned down tight. He saw Mort trying to make a play, with Jonesy and Mose to back him up, but Rex was in too good of a position to not drop Mort as soon as Mort stepped free from his cover. And then Jess saw another man enter the fray. Slim. Jess hurried his steps, wishing that he could call out a warning, as Slim's position was now alongside the sheriff's, but the need to keep himself concealed kept his mouth shut. Until he was directly behind the man.

"Drop it!" Jess let the cocking of his gun produce another exclamation mark, the point narrowed in on Rex' back. "I ain't gonna say it twice."

Jess didn't need to repeat the command, but his gun was forced into action when Rex refused to comply. Mort and Slim, responding to Jess' shout, stepped into the open, their guns as readied to be fired as Jess' was, but it was evident in one glance that Rex wasn't about to surrender. Rex turned sharply, ready to unload his weapon into Jess, but Jess' gun delivered first. The rifle fell to the ground as two hands clutched the bloody wound, the gasp of air released from Rex' mouth being his last. Jess let a haggard sigh come through his lips when Rex hit the ground, lifting his eyes as Mort, Slim and the rest of the posse joined him.

"Thanks, Jess," Mort wiped a hand over his brow. "You, too, Slim. I wasn't sure how I was going to get out of that hole he had me in. What about Cross?"

"Down by the house," Jess answered, giving a slight nod with his head toward the ranch house. "Same as this one."

"Another one for the mud to swallow," Cade tapped the end of his shotgun in Rex' back and then turned to Jess with a lopsided grin. "You reckon you're gonna be gainin' a nice payoff for all them carcasses you've been pilin' up?"

"I ain't interested in no reward, Judge," Jess answered, dropping his gun into his holster.

"Only for justice to be served," Cade said with a slow shake of his head. "Honest fellers. Harrumph."

"Wait a minute," Mort put his hand on Jess' arm, "you heard every word that's been said."

"So I did," Jess smiled, the grin widening enough to show his teeth, but no one saw the light on his face for long, as Jess' feet were already taking him back to the ranch house. He knew Andy would be worrying and Slim fell in step beside him, the two men leading their temporary horses down the slope to the house, and at their arrival, the front door burst open with a boy racing to greet them.

"Jess!" Andy exclaimed, leaping into Jess' arms. "You can hear!"

"Pard," Slim slapped his hand on Jess' back, "why didn't you tell me your hearing came back?"

"I wasn't trying to keep it secret," Jess shrugged as Andy pulled away from his embrace, yet remained attached to Jess' side. "I just didn't know what was gonna happen after all the gunfire stopped. There was no point celebrating until I knew Andy, or I reckon all of us, was gonna be all right."

"That we are, Pard," Slim brought a finger up to the cut on his jaw. "A might banged up, but we're all right. Now all that's left is the burying and the jailing."

"And I'll take care of that," Mort said, hopping down from the wagon that Mose drove into the yard.

"I'll go see if I can rustle something up for supper," Jonesy climbed down out of the wagon seat, his feet leading him to the kitchen.

"I doubt it," Cade said, following Jonesy through the door, "all you've got is beans, biscuit fixin's, 'n' taters. None of the good stuff."

The sun had set and the beans, biscuits and taters were polished off. The fire was roaring, the aroma of coffee was lingering and the house could once again feel complete. It had extra inhabitants, at least for the time being, but that only made the feeling fuller, even with a former outlaw present and a young boy still sniffling into his handkerchief.

"Andy, you better get to bed," Slim said, rubbing his hand over Andy's forehead and down his cheek before coming to rest on his shoulder. "You don't feel fevered anymore, but that nose of yours needs rest. Get on in under the covers and we'll be in shortly to say goodnight."

"Take it easy, Partner," Jess said, the added encouragement finally getting Andy's feet to walk all the way inside the bedroom and shut the door behind him.

"All right, all you injured men, line up in a row," Jonesy instructed, watching as his command was obeyed, with the only man needing a persuasive push being Jess. He picked up the bottle of liniment from the dining table and then stood in front of Slim, Mort and Jess, the sound of the bottle opening making two of the three men wince. "Good. Now, off with your shirts. I brought out my specialty elixir this time, the one for open wounds."

"Oh, Jonesy," Jess groaned, outwardly shuddering at the thought of the repugnant liniment splashing against his bare skin and the sting and stench that went with it. "Do I gotta?"

"No back talk," Jonesy wagged his finger at Jess. "And yes, you gotta. See there at Slim and Mort? They know how to obey orders."

"Dad-gum," Jess scowled at the men beside him, his fingers beginning at his top button, slowly releasing each one until he reached the bottom. "I thought we were supposed to stick together."

"We're all here, aren't we?" Slim asked, waiting for Jess' shrugged response before looking down at his skin, marred with wounds, from the angriest gunshot wound at his shoulder, to the fist-shaped bruises on his abdomen, and the scratch of a bullet on his arm. "And we're not without the wounds."

"I ain't moaning over my aches and pains," Jess said, although he had to tighten his jaw at its tightest position to prevent a response to the pain that jolted through his upper half as he fully removed his shirt. "See, it ain't so bad."

"Uh-huh. That's why you just turned white as a sheet," Jonesy shook his head, unable to hide the smile at the corner of his mouth. "All right, Mort, since you're doing the least amount of complaining, I'll tend to you first."

"Thanks," Mort stood still, his shirt draped over his uninjured arm as Jonesy started to prod around the healing lines of his bullet hole. "I've never been opposed to grin and bare it."

"That's just what we need," Jess rolled his eyes, "a lawman that pokes fun at a fellow and makes poor jokes while doing it."

"I'm sorry, Jess," Mort laughed, his torso shaking as he attempted to hold in the deeper chuckle that he held into his chest. "I just wish you could see yourself. A man with as much grit and tenacity as Jess Harper, reduced to the shivers by a homemade bottle of liniment."

"Wait 'til you get it on yourself," Jess muttered under his breath.

"Well," Jonesy dabbed Mort's wound with a liniment dampened cloth. "You don't look so bad. At least Doc Hanson had a hold of you first. You'll do, Mort. Put your shirt back on, you're free to go."

"Good to hear," Mort held in a rush of air, the heat on his arm matching the blistering redness of his cheeks from both the liquid's sizzle and stench. "Take it easy boys. I better get. Mose is waiting for me in the wagon with our load."

"You forget your joke or something, Mort?" Jess teased as Mort walked rapidly toward the door. "You ain't laughing no more."

"No," Mort shook his head, his fingers not even bothering to button his shirt beyond the half-way line in his hasty exit. "But I'll remember to watch my tongue next time. See you all later."

"Bye, Mort. You're next, Slim," Jonesy said, his feet pausing in front of the taller man. Slim kept his stance steadied as Jonesy administered his elixir, only needing to bite his lip once to prevent a pained retort from escaping. "Thank you, Slim. See, every man needs an exemplary patient."

"I ain't sure what that means," Jess said, shaking his head, "but I reckon I'm gonna be just the opposite."

"I don't doubt that," Jonesy looked Jess over from top to bottom, his eyes resting the longest amount of time on the freshest wound at the top of his arm. "Hmm, by the looks of you, I oughta make you take a bath in it, but since I know that'll only make you growl worse than a grizzly come suppertime, I'll just pour it on."

"Ain't that a purely refreshing thought?"

"Quiet now," Jonesy started to trickle the liquid over Jess' wounds. "It stings less if you don't squirm. There. You'll be right as rain in no time."

"Now he tells me," Jess groaned, stepping away from Jonesy and his intimidating bottle to face the Judge with a firm clutch of his even more intimidating shotgun.

"Hmm," Cade stepped forward, not stopping until he was nearly toe to toe with Jess. "You took somethin' of mine, Son."

"What do you think you're missing?" Jess asked, knowing the answer, but wanting to hear it from the Judge first.

"A bottle, that's what," Cade licked his lips and then touched the tip of his tongue with his finger. "Blamed dry as a desert. I had me an extra bottle when I done pulled you outta the river, but when I packed up to leave, it weren't there no more. Now see, it ain't too friendly not to share, so's I won't holler too much at you for taking a sip or two, 'cause I reckon by your raggedy condition you needed some, but, uh, I'll be taking it back now."

"Well, you see, Judge," Jess took a step backward, lifting both arms away from his sides, "I ain't exactly got it anymore."

"Whaddya mean, 'exactly'," Cade scrunched up his face, only one eye glaring into Jess' innocent expression. "You either got it or you ain't."

"All right," Jess shrugged slightly, "I ain't."

"Then how're you plannin' on payin' for that?" Cade lifted his shotgun, the barrel sticking into Jess' bare stomach. "A load of buckshot might do."

"Wait, wait, now, Judge," Jess pushed the end of Cade's shotgun away from his middle. "I can do you one better, but only if you put that thing down."

"You ain't funnin' with me, are you?" Cade asked, a smile creeping up into his left cheek. "'Cause if you are…"

"Not at all, Judge," Jess took a short step toward the bedroom, quickening his pace when the shotgun wasn't leveled again. Entering the bedroom, he put a finger up to his lips when Andy opened his mouth to question him, and then Jess removed a bottle of whiskey from its hiding place behind the dresser. Giving it a gentle shake, Jess returned to the living room, the amber liquid shining in the lamplight. "Here you are, Judge. Better than the original and it's almost full."

"Hey," Jonesy pointed at the bottle in Jess' hand. "That's not the one used for medical purposes. Jess Harper, you've been keeping your own stash!"

"A man's gotta have some secrets of his own," Jess shrugged, leaning his head toward Slim as he gave a wink. "Ain't that right, Slim?"

"Wait a minute," Jonesy put his hand on Slim's chest, pausing Slim's action of buttoning his shirt in place. "You mean you knew about that bottle of whiskey too?"

"Like Jess says," Slim smiled, his eyes twinkling at the astonished expression on Jonesy's face. "A man's got to have a few secrets."

"There you go, Judge," Jess said, setting the bottle in Cade's eager, outstretched hand, bringing it instantly up to his mouth. "And if I haven't said it proper before, thanks for saving my skin back there."

"Anytime, Son," Cade answered, smacking his lips after a long swallow. "As long as there's some of this waitin' at the end, you and I can team up anytime."

"Just as long as it's on the law abiding team," Jess said with a smile.

"I knew there'd be a catch someplace," Cade grumbled in his throat. "Well, boys, I've done more work the last few days than I've seen in some time. It's time to retire."

"You're welcome to one of our beds, Judge," Slim offered, his hand motioning toward the bedroom.

"Thank you," Cade shook his head, his feet aiming for the door, "but no. I'm gonna find me a quiet place where me and liquid fire can get reacquainted. So long, Son, I mean, boys, well, whatever."

"I doubt if he'll get farther than the barn," Jess chuckled as he parted the curtain, watching the Judge's uneven footsteps tottering across the yard.

"I'll go out in a bit and make sure he's landed softly in the hay," Slim leaned alongside of Jess, shaking his head as Cade nearly bumped into the barn door before making it inside. "Right now, though, I promised Andy we'd tell him goodnight."

"Sure," Jess looked down at his bare chest. "I'm already half undressed, so I might as well call it a night, too."

"You're looking better, Andy," Slim said when the three men entered the bedroom.

"The warm bed is what feels good," Andy answered, a rattled cough following his words.

"That'll do the trick," Jonesy sat down at the foot of Andy's bed, tapping the boy's leg with his hand. "That and some of that cough medicine I whipped up this winter."

"Oh, Jonesy, do I have to?"

"Now you're sounding like Jess," Jonesy chuckled, gaining a smile on both Andy and Jess' lips.

"That's not such a bad thing," Andy said, looking up into Jess' eyes that seemed to be surprisingly moist. "I especially needed that voice today. Thanks Jess. I didn't want to shoot Cross, but I could, because I had you in me."

"You'll find out you can do most anything, but not just because of me, but because of who you'll turn out to be," Jess said, the lump in his throat making it hard to speak. He'd felt that sensation before, somewhere between openly crying and the swelling of genuine pride, but this might have been its most intense moment. "I'm mighty proud of you, Andy,"

"I'm proud of us all," Slim said, putting his arms in a brotherly embrace around both Andy and Jess' shoulders.

…

"Mmm," Jonesy breathed in a deep breath. "Just smell that spring air. Since it stopped raining last week, the sunshine's made it smell fresher than bread being dropped right from the pan."

"All I can smell is the horses that I had to change by myself a few minutes back," Jess jerked a thumb toward the corral.

"Sorry, Jess," Slim said as he came out of the house with Andy by his side. "The next coach will be all for Andy and me, all right?"

"Aw, it ain't so bad. My body's done nearly healed up anyhow. I can lift most anything without feeling a twinge in my side. Oh, I almost forgot," Jess said, pulling three envelopes out of his vest pocket and handing the small stack to Slim. "Stagecoach left us mail."

"Probably the feed bill, grocery bill, and…"

"What is it, Slim?" Jess asked, not liking the way his partner's eyes suddenly darkened.

"It's a letter addressed to Carlyle Cross."

"How'd it end up here?" Andy asked, standing on his tiptoes to try to catch a glimpse of the writing on the envelope.

"I don't know," Slim shook his head, breaking the seal and pulling out the single page. "Must be from his uncle, written before Cross was killed. Maybe he knew to send it to Laramie and the man at the post office sent it on here."

"What's it say, Slim?" Jess asked, stepping close to Slim, starting to read over his shoulder as Slim read aloud.

"'Dear Carlyle, I'm sorry I won't be coming to your ranch like I expected, but something has suddenly changed in my life. Low and behold, at my ripe age of eighty-six, I met a woman who I couldn't say no to. And she's become my wife. Even though your ranch and the need to make it prosperous might appreciate my wealth, I have decided to bequeath everything to my wife's family, which includes eight children, thirty-five grandchildren, and seventeen great-grandchildren, with a great-great on the way. Life has a way of turning everything upside down, but sometimes in a good way. I hope someday your life will turn around too. Many blessings, Uncle Herb'."

"Dad-gum," Jess shook his head. "If I hadn't killed him, this woulda done him in for sure."

"You mean, he did all of that to us for nothing?" Andy asked, his cheeks taking on a rosy hue as he felt returned anger for Cross.

"We could look at it that way," Slim said, waiting until Andy's eyes rose to meet his, "but there's another way to see it. If Cross would have been successful in getting our ranch, he still wouldn't have got what he really wanted. Justice always has a way of disclosing evil, Andy, even in ways we don't always expect."

"Yeah," Andy slightly nodded. "I guess so. At least not everything can fall by Jess' gun hand."

"Hey," Jess frowned, but seeing the grins growing on both Andy and Slim's faces, his own started to flicker upward. "I didn't win that fight by myself. I think we all did pretty good together if you ask me."

"You're right, Pard," Slim said, the look of admiration shining in his eyes, "and together is where we belong. Let's get back to work."

:.:.:

Wow. Where do I start? Thank you doesn't seem quite enough, but it's what I offer with my whole heart. Thank you, so much, to all of my readers that took this journey with me step by step all the way to the end. I could not have created this story in how it was written without you! Thank you for every suggestion, for every thought, for every word of input. I tried to utilize as much as I possibly could, but if I couldn't add a particular suggestion, it's not that it wasn't appreciated or thought about. I have no idea how this story would have ended up without everyone's ideas rolling through my head, but I know for a fact that you all made it better. Laramie fans are devoted to their heroes, and it is a great privilege to write for each and every one you featuring those amazingly handsome (and talented) characters.

Chapter ten specifics. Thank you to WillowDryad, for her suggestion that Jess risk his life to save Andy. This also is a big thanks to MustangSallie for thinking that Slim and Jess wouldn't want Andy to actually kill Cross. He played a role in his rescue, which led to saving Slim, but MustangSallie was right, and it all coincided with WillowDryad's request for Jess' big moment to save Andy. Very well put together, ladies, thank you!

That last bit about Cross' uncle willing his fortune elsewhere was all Nakoosay's idea, although it was meant as a specific jab at Cross to bemoan about in prison. I wasn't going to let Cross live after all that he put our heroes through, but her idea still had a place in the story, so I thank Nakoosay for her suggestion.

I threw an extra gift in for everyone. Another shirtless scene, this time combined, both Slim and Jess, and the addition of Mort, especially included for CoryLynne.

To all of my readers who waited for completion before reading the story, I thank you also. When I started this journey, I knew that there would be a number of readers who would wait, and that is always fine, but I hope now that you've come this far, it was enjoyable for you as it was for me.

Your support, encouragement and positive feedback means the world to me. Although I could probably write story after story without a word from anyone, because I love Laramie so much that I don't think I could ever quit, but hearing your feedback, reading your reviews, and sharing your Laramie heart with me is a reward like no other, whether it comes at the beginning, middle or end of the story.

Thank you again and God bless, Calico West