Jesse woke, eagerly rolling his shoulder as a few dots of white floated past the icy window. Each morning for the past week, he’d done the same and rejoiced in the fact that he’d lost the stiff ache more each day. He wouldn’t complain even if he was hurting bad. There was an awful itch under his skin to be working that deputy’s badge, and he didn’t want the sheriff to hold him back from those duties. Doc Martin had said Jesse’s arm was healing nicely and quicker than expected. But Doc also said it was Sheriff Crosson’s decision as to when he could return to work. And praise the Lord, today was that glorious day.
The sheriff, Jesse, and his partner rode toward Gray Rock in the quiet peace of a lightly falling snow. In no time at all, they crossed the bridge, and it seemed the town had grown since last Jesse had seen it. They pulled up reins in front of the jailhouse.
He and Nate froze themselves while talking with Mr. Pike outside the livery, and Jesse finally got to pay him for Dapple. Shorty had deposited the money for the ranch in the bank, so Jesse was set. Although he had no mind to leave Gray Rock. His future was here.
Sheriff Crosson had told them to check in with folks and make sure the town was still in order. None of the other shop owners had anything of real importance to report.
Jesse’s stomach grumbled. “Let’s look in on the Henrys next and get us some lunch.”
When Jesse had finished his last bite and wiped his mouth, Ned from the telegraph office hurried inside the hotel restaurant, searching about anxiously.
“I thought Sheriff Crosson was here with you and Nathanial.” Ned toyed with the slip of paper in his hands.
“No, he ain’t.” Jesse sipped his coffee.
Ned stared at the paper as if it were about to bite him. “I have an urgent telegram that the sheriff needs to see right away.”
“Give it here.” Jesse took the wire in hand. “Nate and I are headed to the jailhouse.” The wire was from Marshal Huckabee in Birch Creek.
Jailed a saddle tramp. Stop. Bargained for release with info concerning Tipsy. Stop. Found Tipsy’s hideout. Stop. Trailed him riding toward Gray Rock. Stop. Will send Horn to assist. Stop.
“Dammit,” Jesse cursed under his breath. “Partner, you stay put and have yourself a piece of pie.” He stood and pushed in his chair. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
“I want chocolate cake,” Nate whined.
“Yeah, that’s fine. Eat whatever ya want, but you stay here till I come git ya.” Jesse tossed a coin on the table, smiling sweetly at Mrs. Henry. “Ma’am, I’d be obliged if you would keep an eye on Nathanial. I won’t be long.”
The barrel-shaped woman chuckled. “I will do my best with that chore, but I ain’t promising anything.” She winked at the boy.
Jesse hurried out the door, down the boardwalk, and into the jailhouse. Interrupting the sheriff and Big John, he handed the wire to Sheriff Crosson.
The sheriff studied the words, letting them all sink in. “I never doubted that Tipsy would ride back after he healed from his wounds. At least we got a warning and know for sure.” Sheriff Crosson scripted something on a piece of paper. “Take this to Ned.”
“Yes, sir.” Jesse stepped into the cold and hightailed it toward the telegraph office. Sheriff Crosson was sending word that he had a good deputy. There was no need to send Tate Horn. He would keep the marshal informed.
The sheriff’s jaw was set tight, and the veins in his neck visibly throbbed. There was no mistaking the man’s growling mood as they rode toward home. Jesse didn’t blame the sheriff, but he also could see the half-pint’s big pout and teary eyes. He’d bet his badge his partner had in some way faulted himself for the sheriff’s mean disposition.
“Pa … did I do something to piss you off?”
Jesse snickered. The boy had a way with words.
Sheriff Crosson forced a grin, which didn’t seem right to Jesse. Why not just tell the kid about the telegram? A headshake wasn’t a real answer. Nate was wise to Tipsy’s ways. His return wouldn’t be a surprise. Maybe the sheriff wanted to tell Kate first. Jesse could understand that. However, a blind man could plainly see by those teary, downcast eyes that the youngster was aching for more than a strong hand and fast gun to protect him. Nate needed Ma’s loving arms and tender words.
Jesse spurred Dapple into a run, with the mustang and bay falling quickly into pace. They rode into the ranch yard, and Jesse hopped down outside the barn. “Partner, you go on into the house. I’ll see to Buck.”
Supper had been too quiet for Nate, and he didn’t feel like reading. Maybe he would just go to bed early. A glass of milk might soothe him. He shuffled into the kitchen.
Ma sniffled, her face buried in Pa’s shoulder, and he held her close. What had her so upset?
A piece of paper fell from her grip, floating to the floor. Nate stooped and picked up the telegram. He stared dumbly at the broken sentences, but the message couldn’t have been clearer. For nearly three weeks, he’d almost forgotten that Tipsy was still hunting him. There was no sense in crying or questioning why this trouble fell on him. Why not him? The truth of it was he wouldn’t wish this torment on anyone else. What time he had left, he planned on trying to enjoy each minute.
“Nathanial.” Ma wiped hastily at her eyes. Both Ma and Pa looked worried, and the last thing Nate wanted was to talk about Tipsy.
“I’m okay, honest.” He faked a grin for their sake, but his folks weren’t dumb. “I’m going to bed.” He no longer cared about getting milk.
Like Ma did most nights, she came in and tucked the quilt in tight around him. A tear dripped off her chin onto the blanket, which made him sad.
“What are you thinking?” Ma sat on the edge of the bed.
Nate shrugged. “I think I’d like to dance with a girl before I die.”
Ma gasped.
Nate was just being honest with her. “Jesse keeps tellin’ me that someday I’ll think girls are nice. I don’t so much believe him, but I figured I’d give dancin’ with a girl a try. Maybe Hattie? She’s fifteen. Does that matter when it comes to dancin’?”
Ma’s wide eyes glistened, her mouth hanging open. “How dare you talk like that? Your pa and Jesse ain’t gonna let Tipsy hurt you.” Her quivering voice convinced Nate to believe otherwise.
He sat up. “If that’s true, then why are you crying all over me like I’m already laid out six feet deep in my grave? If you don’t honestly trust that Pa and Jesse can keep me from harm, then why should I have hope?”
Ma swallowed down the lump in her throat while hastily wiping tears off her face. “I’m just scared is all. I ain’t doubting Pa’s and Jesse’s skills in handling Tipsy.” Ma smoothed Nate’s hair, more for her comfort than his. Her eyes still held a shine.
Nate, on the other hand, was completely sober-faced. Fearing death wasn’t a good way to live, and he wouldn’t lie to himself. A day would come when he and Tipsy would meet one last time.
Ma rubbed a hand over the top of the blanket. “I will fight Tipsy with my bare hands.” Her grit tickled Nate, making him grin. Unfortunately, against Tipsy, she didn’t have a chance.
Nate slipped his arms around Ma and gave her a big squeeze. “No matter what, you’re the best mama ever.”
Jesse reached for a second helping of bacon while eyeing his little partner, who hadn’t yet touched his plate of breakfast. Those vittles were probably getting cold. “You best eat.” Under the table, he nudged the boy with his foot and got ignored.
“Pa, I got something to say.” Nate straightened in his chair.
The sheriff put down his paper and looked over at his son. Jesse sopped up yellow dippy with a biscuit. Maybe the little guy’s fear of Tipsy had stolen his appetite.
Nathanial cleared his throat. “I wanna go sleddin’ today with Lenny and Norman. The hill out back of their house is fast, better than any slope round here.”
Jesse damn near choked on his swallow and dropped what was left of his biscuit. Yeah, there were two fresh inches of snow on the ground. What kid wouldn’t want to be out there having fun? He recalled lots of fun times as a boy, frolicking in the fluffy white flakes with his brothers. His partner apparently wasn’t letting his fear of Tipsy keep him holed up inside the house any longer.
Nate was smart. He had to know what he was asking wasn’t safe. He would have to get over his disappointment. Maybe Jesse would take him into town, let him buy some gumdrops.
Jesse was shocked that Sheriff Crosson hadn’t thundered a firm no. Was he actually considering it? Impossible. The sheriff had more good sense than that.
While waiting for an answer, the half-pint batted his blue eyes in hopes of winning over his pa. Jesse crunched another piece of bacon. Surely with the threat against Nate’s life, the sheriff also thought the boy’s request was absurd.
Sheriff Crosson nodded. “Sounds like a good time.”
Jesse coughed a few times, choking on his bacon. Ma’s eyes were glassy, but she said nothing. Had the sheriff gone plumb crazy? Jesse hadn’t even gained full strength of his arm yet. It was a daily testimony shared with any who saw him that Tipsy was a dangerous man, but the sheriff didn’t need to be told that.
They had done everything but sit on top of Nathanial for the past two months. What in the hell had changed the sheriff’s thinking? To suddenly let the boy run free and maybe put Shorty’s two boys in danger too, it was beyond foolish.
Jesse threw down his fork. “I don’t see the sense in lettin’ Nate play on open ground where he’d be easy pickins.”
The sheriff’s head swung up, eyes narrow. Their hard stares locked like the horns of two bulls.
Jesse’s little partner sprang out of his chair, ran around the table, and madly tugged on his arm. “I don’t want to hide anymore, Jesse. I wanna play with my friends.”
“Hush up, partner. I’m talkin’ to your pa.”
The sheriff had a kind eye for Nathanial. “I’ll let Shorty decide if it’s too dangerous for his boys. As far as my son, he wants to act his age, and I’m gonna let him this time. I don’t want him afraid of livin’.”
“Livin’!” Jesse spit out the word.
Kate started, and Nate stiffened.
Jesse’s jaw clenched, and he leaned in toward Sheriff Crosson. “Makin’ Nate a target sure is a funny way of keepin’ him breathin’.”
The sheriff slammed down his cup, coffee slopping all over the table. No one dared to breathe. “You don’t have to agree with me. I’ll respect that. But as long as you’re my deputy, you will follow my orders. And today we’ll be guardin’ Nathanial and his buddies while they sled. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.” Jesse stood, pushing back his chair. He marched toward the door, grumbling under his breath, the half-pint on his heels. He shoved his arms through his coat sleeves.
“Don’t be mad. You don’t have to babysit me.” His partner grabbed Jesse’s arm. There was a recklessness in the boy’s eyes that he didn’t like. Something had changed.
“I ain’t angry with ya. But I think what your pa is lettin’ you do is wrong.” Jesse jammed his hat down on his head.
“I ain’t scared no more.” The kid straightened and stood a little too tall. Not a tear glistened in those blue eyes that should have shown some fear of dying. There was an eerie calm in the way Nathanial regarded Tipsy, as if he were talking about a puppy. Hell, it seemed Jesse was the only one breaking a damn sweat.
“And just why is that? Do you think your squeaky little boy voice and batting those baby blues will change Tipsy’s mind about killin’ ya?”
Nathanial’s shoulders slumped and his gaze fell to the floor as he shook his head.
“That’s exactly right.” Jesse lifted the boy’s chin. “Let me tell you somethin’, partner. This ticker right here…” Jesse tapped his chest with a single finger. “If anything happens to you, it’ll break in two.”
Nate jerked back and looked away from Jesse. His gut tightened, sensing the boy was seeing himself as a dead man walking and was just peacefully waiting out his time. He wanted to shake the kid straight. Oh hell, the best thing he could do for him right this minute would be to keep him safe until the fool-headed little cuss figured out on his own that he was wrong. His little partner owned a fighting spirit. More than once, he’d shown himself to be mighty scrappy. If Jesse and the sheriff didn’t find Tipsy first and the boy had to face that son of a bitch, Jesse hoped Nate would throw off this depression and kick and claw for his life.
They rode out of the ranch yard, Jesse and the sheriff on either side of the half-pint. The boy waved goodbye to Ma, who stood on the porch, watching them go. Jesse prayed it wasn’t the last time Nathanial would see her.
The coach road was quiet as they trotted along, and the miles passed quickly. Not so much as a deer was spotted. When they pulled up reins in front of Shorty’s place, the half-pint hopped down, tossing the mustang’s reins to his pa. He tore off toward the barn where his buddies had just disappeared inside. Babysitting was going to be hard with the fresh air stirring up the youngster. Nate wasn’t likely to sit in one spot too long.
Shorty walked out from the barn, wearing a neighborly grin. “Sheriff, Deputy, what can I do for ya?”
While the sheriff explained, Jesse looked about and liked only half of what he saw. This spread was big, larger than most. There were lots of places Tipsy could hide unnoticed. If he would take a chance at Nate there, well, then Jesse and the sheriff would have a quick posse. Two cowhands shoed a horse. Another man chopped wood near the bunkhouse. Three others mended a fence post at the large corral farther from the house. Having armed men around was good, but Jesse didn’t like any of it, not one damn bit. The tree line came within a stone’s throw of the house and the smaller of the two barns. Tipsy could be sitting in wait not forty yards from Nathanial right this minute.
“Oh hell yes, they can all go sleddin’. I ain’t worried, not with the town’s sheriff and deputy watchin’ over the boys.” Shorty clapped Sheriff Crosson’s shoulder as if there were nothing much that should give him pause.
Jesse couldn’t believe it. Had Shorty lost his damn mind too? Apparently Jesse was the only one thinking straight anymore. His little partner, Lenny, and Norman ran out of the barn, pulling two sleds in tow, high-pitched squeals bouncing through the cold air. Jesse would have thought Lenny and especially Norman might be scared. Had those two forgotten being shot at?
Kristy stepped out onto the porch. “Would you like to come inside for coffee?”
He quickly wagged his head, his eyes never leaving Nathanial. That boy was where his mind was focused, not on Kristy. The kids disappeared over a knoll beyond the house.
“I’ll ride the tree line.” Jesse spurred the Appaloosa.
The sheriff’s bay fell into pace, and they rode crosswise over the hilltop, witnessing the boys already down the slope once and pulling their sleds back up. Jesse sat astride his horse like a warden. Tipsy wasn’t getting past him.
Nate rolled off the shared sled as it flipped, and Norman fell over him, squishing him into the snow. The boys laughed and carried on, pitched snow, and tussled with one another.
Jesse grinned. Maybe the sheriff had been right. Frolicking seemed to have lifted the youngster’s spirit. Perhaps now Nate would forget the stupid notion that Tipsy had already won, that his minutes were numbered.
“Let’s race again,” Lenny challenged with the boastful confidence of winning the past three races. Poor Nate and Norman hadn’t even come close to catching him.
“I wanna ride with you,” Norman whined, his eyes filling with tears.
The half-pint pointed a finger straight at the brothers. “I’ll take ya both on and win this one.” The cocky little shit certainly was no quitter.
Jesse chuckled. It was good to see the boy acting like his old tomcat self. He leaned forward, resting an elbow on the saddle horn. “I’ll take that challenge with ya, partner.”
“Whoo-hoo!” The half-pint wildly jumped around, throwing snow into the air. “Jesse’s on my team! We’re gonna fly down that hill!”
Jesse hopped down, tossed his reins to the sheriff, and headed alongside Nate up to the tip-top of the hill.
Sheriff Crosson raised his arm high. “Ready, set … Go!” He let his arm drop.
The two teams took off. Jesse and Nate’s runner sled cut through the snow straight down the hillside. White powder sprayed their faces, making them both squint. Halfway down and behind by three lengths, Lenny and Norman spilled over, rolling their way to the bottom.
“Ha ha, we won!” The half-pint tackled Lenny.
Norman threw a snowball at Nathanial in retaliation for Lenny. Brothers were funny creatures. Jesse recalled squabbling with his older siblings and getting a black eye once. But one day in the schoolyard, a big bully had shoved Jesse to the ground, tearing a hole in the elbow of his shirt. He, George and Harold had stood three strong that day and sent that bully home with his tail tucked between his legs.
Jesse pitched a snowball at Norman. An all-out war erupted. Jesse and Nate threw as fast as they could pack snow into balls while being battered upon by Lenny and Norman.
Norman pounced on Jesse. He faked that the little boy had knocked him falling into a snowbank. Their rough-and-tumble play quickly led to all three knuckleheads tussling with him and trying to roll him down the snowy hill. He threw a glance over his shoulder to check on Dapple and unbelievingly saw Kristy sitting her horse next to the sheriff. They were casually talking and watching the boys, including himself, romping about like wild heathens.
Jesse sprang up, then quickly pulled the three rowdy youngsters off him. He straightened while brushing the snow from his clothes. Kristy might not think of him as a provider with the way he was fooling around like a kid. Their courtship was past the budding stage, and he had every intention of seeing it to full bloom.