Street and Smith's _New York Weekly_ is proud to present the latest addition to the amazing legend of Eerie, Arizona.

  

Jessie Hanks -- Outlaw Queen

by Nicholas Varrick

As Told To Ellie Dauber and Chris Leeson

© 2003

 

Chapter 7 -- "Rescues"

"D'ya think we can catch 'em, Mr. Grant?" At 16, Amos Tyler seemed more excited at the prospect of being in a posse than he was concerned about saving his mother and sister. "Before they get to Mexico, I mean."

"We should. They got a good head start," Paul said slowly, "thanks to that fire they started in your barn, but they've got pack horses and three women to slow them down." He hoped that it was true. Things would be a lot rougher if they had to follow the Commancheros into Mexico. Here in Arizona, he was deputy sheriff with a posse and a warrant for Jessie. Down there, they were just a bunch of angry gringos. The warrant was worthless paper, and his badge would probably count against him.

"Hanna'd slow anybody down," Malachai Tyler said with a laugh. He'd fallen back on the old habit of teasing his sister to forget about what the posse was heading into.

Gil Parker clenched his fists. "Mal Tyler, how can you be saying that about Hanna when she's in danger?" He glared at Malachai and took a step forward as if to back up his words.

The older Tyler boy glared back. "'Cause she's my sister, and I can say anything I want about her." He also took a step forward. "You gonna do something about it, Parker?"

An adult version of Gil, his father, Cyrus, stepped between the boys. "Stop it. Stop it right now. Gil, Malachai is Hanna's brother, and I'm sure he's concerned about his mother and sister."

"All right, Pa." Gil reluctantly lowered his fists. "But he'd better not say anything about Hanna while we're on the trail after her."

"And where did you get the idea that you were coming along?" Cyrus Parker asked.

Gil looked shocked. "Because I... Hanna's in... Pa, I _gotta_ go."

"You do not. You're too young for such things."

"I'm as old as Amos -- _older_ by two months. Pa... _please_!"

"I said, 'No.' Piety Tyler is Amos' mother; Hanna is his sister. That gives him the right to go, if Ephrem wants. You, you're just the boy from the next farm. You've no right to go if I don't want you to."

"_Boy_! Pa, you don't understand." Gil looked to Paul. "Please, Mr. Grant, tell him I can go."

Paul read the young man's desperation, but... "I'm sorry, Gil, but I won't get between a man and his son."

Cyrus took that as support for his side. "Satisfied? And for your information, I understand plenty. I understand that you're going home, and I mean _right now_." He stabbed his finger towards the ground for emphasis.

Gil stood for a moment, trembling, hurt and anger in his eyes. Then he lowered his head. "Yes, Pa," he said. He turned and very slowly began walking towards his horse.

"And tell your mother where I've gone," Cyrus yelled after him. Gil nodded without speaking and kept walking. He climbed up on his horse, a sorrel mare, and rode off.

"Sorry you had to see that, Mr. Grant," Cyrus said. "Gil's a good boy, but, well, you know how it is. A boy can get carried away with the idea of something like being on a posse. He's just too young to see how things really are."

Paul nodded. "It's hard for a boy to become a man; harder sometimes than others." Then he added, "And lots of people don't always see things the way they are."

Parker missed the pont completely"Ah... yeah, I guess." He shrugged his confusion off. "Anyway, let's go find Eph Tyler and see how he's doing rounding up men for the posse."

They found Tyler with three other men. "Some of the folks had second thoughts."

"They got cold feet, damn no account sodbusters," an older man with a salt and pepper, walrus mustache said, his voice full of contempt.

"Anyway, these are the only ones that'd come with us," Tyler continued. "Them plus you two, Gil --"

"He's too young," Cyrus said. "I just sent him home."

"You sure he can't come?" Tyler asked. When he saw Parker's expression, he dropped the subject. "Then it's them, you two, m'boys, and me."

"It ain't much," the mustached man said. "I'm Yancy Flynn, Deputy. Them bastards got here in mid-harvest. Some men won't risk even a day away for fear o'losing their crops."

"I'm not happy about it," Tyler said, "but I can't say as I blame 'em."

"We'll be more than enough," a thin, dark man said. "I'm Dobbs, Deputy, Fred Dobbs, and I never yet met an American that wasn't the match for ten of them thievin' Mex."

"You ain't met that many Mex, then," the third man said. He was a tall, rough-hewn blonde, clean-shaven, but with a braided ponytail half way down his back. Paul's hand actually hurt from his handshake. "Sven Thorrenson, Deputy, and don't you be worrying, Ephrem, we'll get your women back to you."

"Room for one more?" It was a thin man with sandy red hair and the scraggly beginnings of a beard. He barely looked older than Tyler's sons.

"You sure, Mick?" Tyler asked. "Paul Grant, this is Mick Walsh."

"I'm sure," Walsh answered. "Fact is, I'm a little mad you didn't ask me right off."

Tyler tried to smile. "I just figured that with that new baby of yours -- Mick's wife had a little girl just last week -- I figured that you wouldn't want to come, and I didn't want to embarrass you by asking."

"Embarrassed! Hell, Eph, if it was my Kate and little Rosie them Commancheros had, you think I'd be embarrassed to ask you for help?"

"I guess not..."

"Damn right! That's why I gotta go, to make sure that them sons o'bitches don't ever come back for my womenfolk... or anybody else's."

"In that case, Mick, you're more than welcome."

"And I shall be going as well." It was Brother Douglas. "To give comfort to the afflicted and vanquish the ungodly."

"You still riding that mule, Brother Douglas?" Flynn asked.

"I am, and my Bathsheeba is more than up to this task."

"I'm sure that she is," Paul said, scratching his head. "But a mule -- any mule -- is a lot slower than a horse, sir. More than anything else, we'll need speed if we're gonna catch them before they cross the border."

"But... but surely..." the man looked genuinely hurt.

"I'll tell you what, Brother Douglas," Paul said. "You give us a good blessing for this job we have to do. That way, we'll have us the best help that any man can ever have."

Douglas smiled. "Why, yes... yes, I can do that." He bowed his head. The others did the same, a few removing their hats as the preacher began to speak.

* * * * *

The posse rode at near gallop, only stopping ten minutes every hour to rest their horses. When they stopped the third time, somewhere around 9 o'clock, they decided to eat something. The dried meat and hard biscuits from Tyler's larder weren't fancy, but it would keep them going.

Fred Dobbs walked over to where Paul was walking, taking advantage of the break to stretch his legs. "Deputy, I think we're being followed."

"Why do you say that?" Paul asked.

"About ten minutes ago, I looked back and saw a rider, maybe a half mile behind, coming up over the top of a hill."

"So?"

"So, whoever he was, he was riding fast, like he was trying to catch up with us."

"Maybe he was just in a hurry. You ever think of that?"

"Then why ain't he passed us? You tell me that." Dobbs sounded mad at not being taken seriously.

"I don't know," Paul said, "but I'm going to find out." In a louder voice, he added. "Listen up, everybody. Fred thinks we got company coming."

Mal Tyler ran over to the men. "Who you think it is, Mr. Grant?"

"I think we'll know in a few minutes," Paul said. "If he doesn't know we've seen him. He will soon. We'll just see what he does when he figures that out."

"I say it's a damned Commanchero," Dobbs said. "Be just like them t'leave somebody behind as a lookout. I say we take him out." He had taken his Winchester down from its saddle holster.

"And what if it's one of your neighbors come to join the posse?" Paul asked.

Dobbs sneered. "If he's in so much of a hurry t'help, why didn't he come along with us when we left?"

"Some men left Eph's place a-fore we knew the women was missing," Sven Thorrenson said. "Maybe one of 'em heard what happened and decided t'help."

"We can ask him in a minute," Yancy Flynn said. He pointed off in the distance. By the light of the moon, the men could see a lone rider, a few hundred yards out and coming towards them.

The rider must have realized that he'd been seen. He slowed his horse, but kept coming in. "He must be a friend," Tyler said. "He's riding in like he doesn't want to make us nervous."

"Or he's doing it to distract us, while his friends sneak in and get the drop on us." He levered his rifle, loading a round into the chamber. "They try anything, he'll be the first one t'eat dirt."

The rider came closer. He raised one arm, showing that his hand was empty. He kept the other on the reins, but raised it, so that it was in plain sight. As he came in, the men heard him calling out, "Pa, Mr. Tyler, Mr. Grant, d-don't shoot. It's... it's me."

"Gil!" Cyrus Parker spat the name. "What the hell?" He glared at his son riding towards them, then at Dobbs, who had wanted to shoot him in cold blood.

"How was I supposed t'know it was your son?" Dobbs asked with a shrug.

"You weren't." Parker turned his full anger towards his son. "Gilbert Allan Parker, just what the hell are you doing here? I told you --"

Gil stopped a few feet away from the others and dismounted quickly. "You told me to go home and to tell Ma what happened," he said, taking a breath. "I done that. Then I got my pistol and came after you." He tried to smile. "You never told me to _stay_ home once I got there."

"Well, I'm telling you now. You get back on that horse, you go straight home, and you stay there this time."

"N-no, sir. I-I'm not going."

"Are you sassing me, boy?"

"No, sir, I'm not, but the only way you're going to get me to leave is to take me home yourself -- by force."

"Let him stay, Cyrus," Eph Tyler said.

"What? What are you saying, Ephrem?" Parker seemed genuinely surprised.

"Seems to me that anybody who wants so much to come along on this has a right to be here." He looked at Gil closely. "You do want to be here, don't you, Gil?"

"Yes, sir, Mr. Tyler. Hanna... and Mrs. Tyler need all the help they can get, and I want to be there to give her... them what help I can."

"Then, I think you can come." He looked at Paul. "Don't you agree, Deputy?"

Paul tried to be noncommittal. "Seems t'me that we can always use another man on something like this. It'd be a real shame t'lose one we already got, because he had to take his son home."

"But he's..." Parker knew that he was outflanked. "Oh, all right, but let whatever happens be on _your_ head, Deputy, and yours, too, Ephrem."

Paul just nodded. "Agreed," Tyler said. "And, Cyrus, when this is over, and we're all safe at home, I think Piety and Hanna and I will want you, Gil, and your Elsie over for dinner."

"I thank you for the invite, Ephrem, " Parker said, looking confused, "but I don't see why you're making such a big deal out of it."

"Because -- and you'll see why soon enough, Cyrus -- something like what we all have to talk about _is_ a big deal." He looked at Gil. "Isn't that right... son?"

Gil looked surprised, then he grinned. "Yes, _yes_, sir. And... and thank you, sir. Thank you, very, very much."

* * * * *

"Aaah! Get away from me!" Piety's scream woke Jessie from a sound sleep. In an instant, she was sitting up, her Colt in her hand.

One of the Commancheros -- Eduardo, Jessie thought his name was -- was standing over Piety just a few feet away. "What the hell's going on here?" she demanded.

"He... he was tr-trying to have his way with me," Piety stammered, clutching her blanket around herself. Her eyes were wide with fear. Hanna was sitting up, too, hurriedly buttoning the top two buttons of her dress. She didn't look half as scared as her mother.

Jessie pointed the Colt at Eduardo. "That better not be true."

"¡Maldito!" Eduardo growled in exasperation. "I was trying to wake her and the girl; that is all. Manolo wants them to have breakfast ready in half an hour. And he -- all of us -- want... _need_ for the coffee to be ready even sooner."

He leered at Jessie. "I would invite you to join me in something a bit more _exciting_ while we wait, but I find that I need coffee even more, alas." He groaned softly and stuck a finger in his ear, twisting it as if to pull out the echo of Piety's scream. "Especially after that screech of the señora's. Every prairie dog within ten kilometers of the camp must have heard that."

"Serves you all right," Jessie said firmly. She saw Hanna nod in quick agreement. 'I knew I liked that young'n,' she thought to herself.

* * * * *

Paul squatted down lower behind the multiple trunks of a pipe organ cactus. He was near the edge of the Commanchero's camp now, and they seemed to have no idea that he and the others were even close. 'Careless,' he thought, 'but at least Jessie and the other women are safe.'

The bandits were just sitting around enjoying their breakfast. From the snatches of conversation he could understand, it sounded to Paul like a few of them could use a little "hair of the dog." He smiled in spite of himself; that could make things that much easier.

He looked off to his left. Dobbs was a few feet away behind another pipe organ cactus; the damn plant grew all over the place around here. Dobbs spoke much better Spanish than Paul did, and the man needed to be near him for what was coming.

Dobbs saw Paul looking at him. He pointed down to his rifle. The metal barrels were barely visible against the green-gray bark of the _hierro_, the ironwood tree. "Ready when you are, Deputy," he hissed. "Let's get us some Mex."

"Just wait for my signal," Paul whispered back, "and you better be _damned_ sure of your target." Dobbs was a little too eager for Paul's taste.

* * * * *

"Ahhh!" Luis smiled wanly. 'Nice to finally know that the breakfast will stay down,' he thought to himself. 'Maybe a little more of that coffee... just to make sure it will.'

He carefully stood up -- his head still hurt a bit -- and looked around. The young chica with the coffeepot, yes, there she was. He walked towards Hanna, his cup in his hand. 'A very pretty chica,' he thought. 'Pity Manolo won't let us... touch her out here on the trail, but she will bring a better price that way, if she is... pure.' He smiled at the thought. 'Still, I will not be the only one to use my share of her price to... visit her at whichever _burdel_, whichever cathouse is the fortunate one that buys her.'

* * * * *

A hand shot up above the branches of an octotilla tree. Paul saw a quick flash of red before the hand pulled back down.

"That was the signal," Dobbs said impatiently. "Can I shoot somebody now?"

"No, first we... I talk." He pulled his own pistol and yelled, "All right, you men, you're surrounded. I'll give you a count of ten t'drop your guns and raise your hands. One... two... three..."

"Like hell," a tall muscular man with graying hair -- he had to be the leader -- called out to his men. "Shoot them!" He pulled his pistol and fired towards the cactus Paul was standing behind.

"Hot damn!" Dobbs said eagerly. He fired at a tall man with long black hair who looked more Indian than Mexican. The man grabbed his side and fell to the ground.

* * * * *

"ATACEN! Attack!" Manolo shouted. "Get them, my brothers." He dove for cover, pulling out his pistol before he hit the ground. He rolled once, and fired at where he thought the voice had come from.

* * * * *

"Shit," Luis muttered. He dropped his cup and ran the last few steps to Hanna. He stepped behind her, grabbing her at the waist. She felt his pistol in her side. "Do not move, chica. You and me is riding out of here."

Hanna screamed. She squirmed and twisted her body against him. Luis laughed. "Be patient, chica. There will be time for that once we have gotten away from these gringo friends of yours.

* * * * *

Piety had been standing near the cook fire watching Hanna. "What..." Men were screaming and bullets were suddenly flying all around her. Totally confused, she stood frozen mumbling to herself. "I... what... E-Ephrem..." She was beginning to cry, but she didn't move.

Jessie had thrown herself to the ground at the sound of the first shot. She looked up, being careful not to raise her head, just in time to see Piety take one confused step, then stop as a bullet hit the dirt inches from her foot. "Get down, you fool!" Jessie yelled.

"Piety turned her head towards Jessie. "I... I don't..." She blinked her eyes and looked around, as if trying to see who had called her.

"Too damned scared to think straight." Jessie shook her head and took a breath. "And I must be crazier than she is." She leapt to her feet and ran straight at the petrified woman.

Piety barely saw Jessie coming. Jessie threw herself at the other woman, knocking the pair of them to the ground. As she fell, she felt a sting in her side. She landed on top of Piety. "Stay down, damn you," she spat through her teeth.

* * * * *

The rescuers kept firing at the bandits. A thin, mustached man rose to a crouch and tried to run for better cover. His body spasmed as bullets hit it. He took a last step and fell face down in the dirt.

* * * * *

Manolo watched the second man fall. "This is not the way it was supposed to go!" he growled, then fired furiously at a stand of barrel cactus that someone was using for cover.

* * * * *

Luis moved back another step towards the horse. "You make a fine shield, chica. He laughed again and raised his hand to quickly rub Hanna's breast. "For the luck, chica."

"Let her go, you bastard." Luis looked towards the sound. A figure had run out from behind a red sandstone boulder. "A boy," he said. He shifted his arm to take a shot. His target looked barely old enough to grow a beard. "You came a long way to die, boy."

"Like hell, I did." Gil took a step and lunged at the man holding Hanna. He twisted his body and hit the man in his side, hit him the way Gil might hit a door he was trying to force open. The bandit's grip on Hanna gave way as Gil's momentum carried them both down into the dust together.

Gil scrambled to his feet. Just as quickly, the man was on his knees, groping for the pistol he had dropped from the impact when Gil plowed into him. Gil's hands closed into fists. He hit the man in the jaw with his right hand, then in the stomach with his left. The bandit staggered backwards and tumbled onto his back.

Gil jumped on the other man's stomach, taking pleasure in the "Wooph!" of air the other man let out from Gil's weight. "Don't... you... _ever_... touch... her... again." With every word, he hit the fallen man, just to make sure the varmint was paying attention.

* * * * *

"We are not blessed this day," Manolo said to himself. He crouched low behind the rocks he was using for cover and checked his pistols, three bullets in one and two in the other. He quickly reloaded both.

With a loud scream intended to startle his attackers, he leapt up and dashed toward the tethered horses. As he ran, he fired, first one pistol, then the other, at the noise and smoke made by the hidden posse. He heard the scream of one man. Yes! A blind shot had hit someone!

He was close now, less than ten meters from the horses. Suddenly, a barrel-chested man stepped out from among them. He had a shotgun in his hands, the barrel aimed directly at Manolo, his face full of hatred.

A second man -- no, a boy -- stepped out from behind a nearby tree. He only had a pistol, but it too was pointed at Manolo. The boy looked as angry as the man.

"Just give me a reason," the man said in a slow, gravelly rasp.

Manolo figured the odds. He might be able to get off a shot, maybe even two, before they fired but he would never stop them both. And they were both _eager_ to take his life. He tossed his pistols away and raised his hands. "Señores, I... we surrender. We surrender." He said the last two words as a shout.

Eduardo was about twenty meters away. He heard Manolo's words, tossed his own pistol away, and raised his hands. "Si, we surrender."

* * * * *

Gil was still hitting the now-unconscious man, his rage not letting him stop. He felt a hand on his shoulder and tensed. "I don't think he's got any fight left in him, son," his father said. "You might as well stop hitting him."

"Pa... I..." Gil shuddered. He slipped sideways off the other man. His arms felt like lead. "He... he was gonna hurt... Hanna, is... is she all right?" He realized what he had been doing. Hanna was probably as scared of him now as she'd been of that bastard that had used her as a shield.

Two arms circled his waist. Gil felt a head lay on his shoulder. "I'm fine," Hanna said, "wonderful. I never had a knight in shining armor before."

* * * * *

Paul looked at the battle scene.

The one that looked like an Indian was dead. Whatever else he was, Dobbs was a good shot. The one that was running had a bullet in his side and another in his leg. He was bleeding, but, with luck, he'd live to stand trial.

The bandit who'd taken Hanna as a shield was on the ground, unconscious. He had a face that looked like raw hamburger. The boy -- Gil -- was standing nearby. His arm was around the waist of the Tyler girl, and he looked like he was daring any of the men, his father or hers, to say anything about it.

Paul didn't think Tyler minded, and the boy's father was smiling at his son looking ready to explode with pride. "Smartest thing we could've done, bringing my Gil along. I don't know why anybody would have wanted to leave him behind."

Nobody seemed inclined to argue. Let the man enjoy himself.

The other two Mex were standing near the horses, their hands were tied behind their backs, and they looked very unhappy. "Good reason, too," Paul thought out loud. "Arson, theft, _horse_theft, kidnapping. If they don't hang outright, they ain't going home for a long time."

* * * * *

"I believe you can let me up now," Piety said.

"Yes'm," Jessie replied. She hadn't wanted to let go of the woman until Piety had come to her senses. She pushed herself away and quickly got to her feet.

She offered Piety her arm, and the other woman took it. When Jessie started to pull her to her feet, she suddenly felt such a sharp pain in her side that she had to let go of the Tyler woman.

Piety scrambled but kept her footing. "Why you..." she began angrily. Then her voice changed. "Oh, oh, my. You're hurt."

Jessie looked down to where the pain was coming from. Her shirt was torn, a ragged three- or four-inch long cut, about halfway down her side. She was bleeding slightly at the spot. "Bullet... must've grazed me when I --" She put her hand on the wound and pressed to stop the flow of blood.

Piety took a breath and brushed herself off. With a look of determination, she took off her apron and tore it in half, then tore one piece in half again. She ran and got some water from by the cook fire and dipped a piece of cloth in it. "This will... will h-have to do for now." She dabbed at the wound with the wet cloth. "I-I'm just glad it was... wasn't worse.

Jessie saw that Piety's hands were shaking. "I'm all right. You go look after your Hanna." The way the woman kept poking at her wound seemed to make it hurt even more.

"No, I..." Piety's voice trailed off, as she continued work on the wound. Once it was fairly clean, she folded another piece into a bandage and placed it carefully against Jessie's skin. She wrapped the long piece of apron around Jessie, tying it off to make a wrap that would hold the bandage in place.

"Yeeow!" Jessie winced as Piety pulled the knot tight.

Piety stopped and looked at her, then at the bandage on her side. "I'm sorry; I'm so... _very_ sorry. I'll loosen it." She worked the knot for a moment. "Is... is that better?"

"Yes, thank you, ma'am," Jessie muttered.

Piety nodded. "I'm not sure that I like or approve of you, Miss Hanks, but I do know that I'm... beholding to you. I'll attend to your wound properly when we get home to my farm. You're... you're welcome to stay there to recover, of course..."

Jessie shook her head. Nothing like taking a bullet for somebody to make them act more friendly. Or so she supposed; to tell the truth, she'd never done anything quite that foolish before.

* * * * *

 

Chapter 8 -- "Starting Home"

Jessie gingerly touched the bandage tied over her flesh wound. 'Ow,' she thought, flinching from the pain. 'It hurts, hurts like hell, but I can ride with it.' It was only a few hours to the safety of the Mexican border. 'I still got Toby's money. I can get this thing taken care of on the other side.'

She glanced around. Piety was talking to Hanna and that boy that had run in and saved her. They were standing together, their arms around each other's waists, and Hanna was leaning her head on his shoulder. 'Now ain't that sweet,' Jessie thought. Then she realized _what_ she'd just thought. 'What the hell? I sound like some moonstruck gal. I _got_ to get out of here, get down to Mexico and see about changing back.'

She looked around a second time. The men mostly seemed to be pre-occupied with the Commancheros. Now where were the horses -- there they were, nobody was near them, and...

"Miz Hanks I want to shake your hand." Jessie's thoughts were broken by a barrel-chested man, his hand stuck out in front of him. "I'm Ephrem Tyler, Miz Hanks. That was my wife you saved during the gunfight."

"Yeah, sure." This overly grateful sodbuster was the last thing she needed. "It was nothing."

"It most certainly was something." Tyler grabbed her hand and began working it like a pump handle. "Pie -- that's my wife, Piety -- she says you're coming back with us. The very least we can do is care for you till that wound is fully healed."

"I'm afraid the lady has a previous engagement," a voice said from behind her, a voice Jessie recognized.

It couldn't be, could it? She clenched her fists but refrained from turning toward the voice.

Tyler did turn though, nonplussed. "Deputy, I'm not sure that I understand."

Paul Grant stepped into Jessie's line of sight. "I have a warrant for Miss Hanks. The reason I'm out this way to find her and to bring her home."

Before Jessie could move, he grabbed her arm. She felt cold steel on her wrist and looked down. "Damn!" She spat the word. She was handcuffed, and the other end of the thing was around the Deputy's own wrist.

"Why?" Ephrem asked indignantly. "What has she done?"

"We aren't sure," Paul answered. He couldn't very well lie, but Jessie was something of a hero to these folks. It didn't seem right to tell them the whole story. "You remember what I told you back at your farm. Jessie... she was the last one known to have seen a man named Toby Hess. We found him dead, and she'd run away. I was sent after her."

"And you think she killed him?"

"We don't know." He looked over at Jessie. She was squirming, trying to twist out of the cuff, but she wasn't having much luck with it. "We know she ran, and it looks like she wants to keep running. That's why I cuffed her."

Jessie stopped squirming and listened. 'Why isn't he telling them any more?' she wondered. 'It's like he's trying to protect me.' It felt odd to have a lawman do that, good in some funny sort of way, but still odd.

Tyler shook his head. "I don't think that a cold-blooded killer would risk her life for my wife like she done."

"To tell the truth, neither do I, Mr. Tyler," Paul said. "But it's not for me to decide. It's for a judge and jury back in Eerie."

Jessie groaned. All that time, everything she'd been through, and she was going back -- back to... to hang, probably. It just wasn't fair. She pulled again at the handcuff.

"Pappa..." Hanna came running over. "...why is Jessie handcuffed like that? Gil... Pappa, tell that man --"

"That man is a deputy sheriff, Hanna," her father told her. "He says that she may have committed a murder in the town they come from."

"M-murder." The girl was stunned. "That... that isn't possible. She... she just couldn't."

"I'm not saying she did, Miss," Paul said. "All we know is that she was with a man -- Toby Hess -- when he died. I'm here to take her back so she can tell her side of it."

"And where, exactly, do you intend to take her back to?" Now Piety had walked over to join them. She didn't seem near as happy about the warrant and all as Jessie expected her to be.

"Eerie, ma'am," Paul said, sensing trouble. "It's a little town just south of the Superstition Mountains, a few hours' ride east of Phoenix."

"Phoenix," Piety raised an eyebrow. "That would put your Eerie almost a week's ride from here, wouldn't it?"

"I'd make it more like three or four days," Ephrem Tyler said, "but it is a goodly ways to ride."

Piety frowned and put her hands on her hips. "Sheriff... Deputy, this woman is wounded -- wounded on my account, too. I will _not_ allow her to make such a trip until I've had a chance to properly treat that wound, and she's had at least a day of rest to recover from this ordeal."

Paul shook his head. He'd had a feeling that capturing Jessie would be trouble, and it was, all right, _big_ trouble. Nobody would ever believe that a pretty little gal like that could be as bad as she really was. "I don't know ma'am. I'd really like to get started."

Ephrem tried to keep things in hand. "Why don't we humor my wife, Deputy... Paul. She can be a very stubborn woman when she wants to be, and she _does_ have a point about the lady's wounds. Besides, by your own admission, you've been tracking her for some time. A night or two in a nice, soft, bed should be a welcome change from sleeping out on the range."

"Please, sir," Hanna said, her eyes wide. "She saved Mama and me both. We owe her that much."

"Besides, Hanna's brothers and me'll be there to help you keep watch." Gil was glad for the excuse to spend time with Hanna... at the Tylers' ranch. "That should be more'n enough to keep her from getting away. It ain't like Miz Hanks is some kind of desperado or anything." He smiled at his joke.

Paul rolled his eyes. 'If you only knew," he thought. Still, he knew when he was licked. And, to be honest, he'd seen cuts and wounds less severe than Jessie's go bad during cattle drives. "All right," he said with a sigh, "but a day or two, no more."

* * * * *

Late in the afternoon, they followed a few bumblebees to a pool of water, maybe thirty feet across, that was watered by a flow of water from an outcropping of rock its the north end. The pool was surrounded by prickly pear and pipe organ cactus, as well as a variety of other plants.

"We'll camp here," Paul yelled to the group as he climbed down from Ash. Then he walked around to Useless to help Jessie down. Her hands were cuffed together. A line led from Useless to Ash. Paul had led the other horse like a pack animal. It seemed used to the treatment.

Jessie leaned back when he reached for her. "Why don't you just open these cuffs?" Jessie asked, "and I can get down by myself."

"I'm not sure that I can trust you overnight without handcuffs. I sure as hell am _not_ going to let you out of them while you're on a horse, and I'm on foot."

He reached for her again. This time she didn't fight. In fact, she sort of slid off her horse and into his arms. He quickly put her down on her own feet

"Mmm, thank you, Deputy," Jessie said, her voice low and husky. "I'd never have suspected that you were such a gallant gentleman."

"Quit the game, Jessie. Whenever you put on that you're just a sweet young thing, I know you're up to something."

"Well, you can't blame me for trying. I surely don't want to have to spend the night in these things."

Hanna walked over. "You shouldn't have to. You're a hero for what all you did for Momma and me, and you should be treated like one."

"She should, indeed," Piety added, as she joined the group. "Besides, I'm not sure that having to hold her arms like that is good for her wound."

Gil had walked over holding hands with Hanna. "Couldn't she maybe... promise that she won't escape, Mr. Grant? Wouldn't that be enough?"

Paul had to smile at the boy's naivete. "No, son, I don't think it would." Then he had the glimmer of an idea. "I wouldn't expect her to keep a promise like that to me. But... Jessie, c'mere."

Jessie lifted her head alertly. Damned right she wouldn't keep a promise to some lawman. If she could, she'd ride off laughing in his face for trusting her. Still... She wondered what he had in mind. "What do you want?" She stepped up abreast of him.

"Jessie Hanks, will you promise Hanna and her mother that you won't try to escape during the night, promise it to them with all of whatever you got for a heart?"

Jessie frowned across at the mother and daughter. A promise to them was no better than a promise to the deputy as far as she was concerned. But if it would help put the deputy's guard down... "Sure, I'll..." Jessie looked at Hanna. The girl was looking at her expectantly. That look of earnestness on the girl's face made Jessie uneasy.

She glanced over at Piety. They didn't get along, this farm wife and her, but Piety _had_ asked Paul to uncuff Jessie out of real concern. Jessie sighed through clenched teeth. She still didn't understand why she'd risked herself that way for Piety, but one dumb move deserved another. "I'll promise it, Deputy."

"Don't tell me; tell them," Paul said firmly.

"Yes, do," Piety said. I'd like to take a quick look at your bandage before I start supper."

"All right, then," Jessie said. "Mrs. Tyler... Piety, I promise you and Hanna not t'try and escape the whole time we're camped here."

"Nope. Now that I think on it, I want more than that, Jessie," Paul said.

She looked up into the man's stern face with annoyance. "What! What more do you want?" she shot back.

"I want your promise to these ladies that you won't try to escape the whole way back to their farm... _and_, come to think of it, while you're _at_ their farm."

"That's a whole lot to be asking of me," Jessie said, scowling.

"You're asking me -- asking them -- to trust you to keep your word. That's a lot for you to ask, the way I see it. If those irons are no big deal to you, you can just keep wearing them.

Piety looked Jessie straight in the eye. "I have no doubt that she'll keep her word -- if she gives it."

"You... you'd trust me that far?" Jessie asked Piety in surprise. "For all you know, the deputy is right."

"I think that Hanna and I can trust a woman who risked her life to save mine." She said the words with great resolve.

Jessie stared at Piety, trying to understand the farmwoman. She seemed to be the kind of person who didn't do much by halves. The outlaw decided that whether she kept her word or not, she'd be better off in the short run if she gave it.

"All... all right, I promise. Piety, you and Hanna have my word on it. I won't try to get away the whole time we're on the way t'your farm and not while I'm there, neither."

There, she went and said it. The funny thing was that now that the words were said, she suddenly realized that she'd regret it if she made herself look like a liar in front of these damned earnest Tylers.

"Good," Piety said, crossing her arms in front of her with satisfaction. "And after I look at that bandage, Jessie, you can help us with supper. "

* * * * *

The squad of cavalry met Paul and the others about mid-day.

Their leader saw Paul's badge and rode over to him. "Good afternoon, sir," he said, making a sharp salute. "I am Lieutenant Jackson DeWitt. My men and I are out of Fort Yuma. Is there a Mr. Tyler in your party?"

The lieutenant was a tall, rather handsome man with a strong Southern accent. He had a boyish face that wasn't helped by the mass of blonde curls on his head. He did his best to fight the impression of extreme youth by sporting a thin mustache and goatee, both also blonde.

"He is," Paul said, then called out, "Ephrem, get over here. This man wants to talk to you."

"Yes, lieutenant," Tyler said. "What can I do for you?"

DeWitt saluted again. "Captain Pryce at Fort Yuma sends his compliments, sir. A preacher -- Brother Douglass, I think his name was -- sent word that you needed the Army's assistance with some Commancheros. My men and I are here to be that assistance."

'Brother Douglass,' Paul though with a smile. 'That man can't stop trying to help people.'

"You're a bit late," Tyler said. "A band of Commancheros did raid my farm -- carried off my wife and daughter, too. I thought the Army was supposed to guard the border ad protect us settlers from such things."

DeWitt sighed. It was a complaint he heard far too often. "Sir, do you know how long the border is with Mexico? It runs some 2,000 miles from Texas out to California. To secure that, we'd have to post men every ten feet and for twenty-four hours a day. There are not enough able-bodied men in these entire United States -- let alone, in the Army -- to do something like that."

"I know; I know," Ephrem said, holding up a hand. "I'm still very upset about my women folk being captured like that."

"Understandable, sir, and no insult taken. After all, we're here to help get them back."

Dobbs had joined them. "We already done that. Killed a couple of them Mex and took the rest prisoner."

"You can take them off our hands, though," Paul said. "Take them back to Fort Yuma to stand trial."

"Oughta just shoot 'em," Dobbs said.

"Not without a trial, sir" DeWitt said, wryly. "Every man's entitled to a trial... first."

Dobbs smiled. "I think we understand each other, lieutenant."

"I doubt it," DeWitt said, looking at the group. "In the meantime, Mr. Tyler, may I congratulate you on the rescue of your wife and daughters."

"Daughters?" Ephrem said. "Oh... no, lieutenant. The younger girl Hanna, _is_ my daughter, but the older one is Miss Jessie Hanks. Jessie happened to have stopped at our farm for water, just as the Commancheros came. They took her, too, and it's a lucky thing they did."

"Lucky, sir?"

"Piety -- that's my wife -- was caught in the cross fire during the rescue. Miss Hanks risked her own life to push her out of the line of fire. In fact, she got wounded for her troubles."

Jessie heard her name and -- fearing the worst -- had ridden over. There was no way that Useless could outrun a squad of cavalry. She came into earshot in time to hear that sod buster, Tyler, telling the lieutenant what a hero she was. It gave her an idea for a little fun.

"Now, Mr. Tyler," Jessie said softly, using her own Texas accent for all it was worth, "Are you telling that story about me again? My goodness, lieutenant, I was so scared when that awful shooting started. Then I saw Miz Tyler. Well, I... I couldn't let her get hurt, could I? I never even felt myself stand up. I was just... just running towards her. Then we were down on the ground. It all just happened so _fast_." She paused and took a breath.

The lieutenant smiled, as his glance moved freely over Jessie's body. "I've seen men act just that same way in combat -- by gut... excuse me, by pure instinct. It doesn't make them, or you, any less the heroine, Miss Hanks. Especially if, as Mr. Tyler said, you were wounded in the process."

Jessie smiled back. "A heroine? Me? Why it is just _so_ sweet of you to say so, lieutenant... lieutenant?"

"DeWitt, Miss Hanks, Jackson DeWitt at your service." He removed his hat just long enough to make a deep bow. "And you _are_ a heroine, Miss Hanks, and a wounded hero at that."

"You are the sweetest man... Jackson." She said his name softly. Then she twisted and stretched, pulling her shirt tight against her breasts. "Yes, a... a flesh wound... right here." She pointed to her side. "It was nothing really... ooh!" She winced, more for effect than from the twinge of pain twisting herself had caused.

"Perhaps you should accompany me back to the Fort, Miss Hanks. We have an excellent military surgeon, very skilled at treating all manner of wounds."

"Oh, please call me Jessie. I would love to go... Jackson, but I --"

"She can't go," Paul interrupted. "Stop fooling around, Jessie."

DeWitt stiffened. "I will thank you not to address the young lady in that tone, sir," the yound officer replied coldly. "Where Miss Hanks can and cannot go are her own concerns, not yours."

"I'm afraid that you're wrong there," Paul said. He reached into his shirt pocket and took out the warrant, which he handed to DeWitt. "This makes it my business."

DeWitt unfolded the paper and reading, frowning more and more as he did so. "This says that Jessie... Miss Hanks is the key witness and the possible suspect in a capital murder case." He looked up at the deputy. "Surely, a charming and refined young lady like her could never be involved in such sordid goings on." He refolded the paper and handed it back to Paul.

"Whether she is or isn't is up to a jury back in Eerie to decide. She was the last one known to have seen Toby Hess. We found Toby dead and her long gone. I was sent out here to find her and bring her back."

"But surely --"

"Lieutenant DeWitt, that warrant is signed by a territorial judge, and, it directs all authorities -- civilian _and_ military to assist me. I can let you see it again if you didn't read that far."

"I read it, sir. I just find it hard to believe that that this young lady could have committed an act of murder."

"After you get your prisoners to Fort Yuma -- and get them squared away -- you're welcome to ride on over to Eerie for the trial." It was the last thing Paul wanted. He just hoped that the command at Fort Yuma was as short-handed as DeWitt had suggested.

"Sadly, sir, I am not likely to be able to avail myself of your hospitality."

"Fortunes of war," Paul said, trying very hard not to smile, "but at least you get to offer your own hospitality to our other prisoners."

* * * * *

"I am very disappointed in you, Jessie... Miss Hanks," Piety said as she, Hanna, and Jessie watched DeWitt and his men riding off with the three Commancheros.

"What do you mean?" Jessie asked. So it was back to Miss Hanks again.

"I saw -- and heard -- the way you threw yourself at that lieutenant, trying to get him to take you back to Fort Yuma with him. And after you promised Hanna and I not to try to escape. We put ourselves on the line for you, and this is how you treat us."

"I..." Jessie suddenly felt her face flush. She remembered how much she had resented Piety calling her a scarlet woman for no good reason earlier. Now, she'd given Piety Tyler a reason to do just that, as well as making herself look like a liar.

"Oh, Mama," Hanna said with a laugh, "Don't you see what she was really doing?"

"I... no, Hanna, I don't. What _was_ she doing?" Piety and Jessie looked at Hanna curiosly.

"I think Jessie likes Mr. Grant. He wasn't paying her any attention, except as a prisoner. She wanted to get him to notice her, so she flirted with that lieutenant to get him jealous."

Piety looked with surprise at her daughter, taken aback that one she still thought of as a child could have had such an insight. Then she regarded Jessie. "Is that true, Miss Hanks... Jessie? Is that what you were doing?"

"I... oh... ummm." Jessie found her face getting even warmer. It was a ridiculous idea, too stupid to even think about, but she didn't disagree. With the Tylers, it was better to be thought of as a calculating flirt than as a common tramp.

Wasn't it?

* * * * *

It was well after sunset when the group came to a rough east-west trail. "The Yuma-Ajo road, Tyler said. He took out his pocket watch, striking a match to read it. "Almost nine o'clock," he said. "We should be home by ten."

"This is where I leave you, Eprem," Mick Walsh said. "I know how much my Kate'll be worrying about me."

"Thanks for the help, Mick," Ephrem said, putting his watch away as the young man rode off.

"There's nobody waiting for me," Sven Thorrenson said with a wry smile, "I'm just a poor, old Norwegian bachelor, but I want to get home to my farm, too."

"Couldn't have done it without you, Sven," Ephrem said. Sven had shot the second of the Commancheros. The man had died on the trail and was buried under a crude cairn of rocks.

"Just doing what had to be done," he waved and turned his horse towards his own farm in the east.

"I left my wagon at your place," Dobbs said. "You mind if I sleep in your yard when we get there?"

"You're more than welcome," Tyler said. "I might even have some livery work for you." Dobbs was a travelling tinker and liveryman, earning his living making and repairing metal and leather goods for the scattered farms. The last member of the posse, Yancy Flynn, had gone to Fort Yuma with the soldiers. He'd taken a bullet square in the arm. Piety had stopped the bleeding and bandaged it, but he wanted to have the Fort's doctor deal with the thing.

* * * * *

"I guess this is good night," Gil Parker said, as he walked Hanna to the house. "I'm... I'm so glad that you weren't hurt... or nothing."

"I would have been," Hanna said, "if you hadn't been there."

"Glad I was." They were on the porch now, just outside the door.

"So am I, Gil." Hanna stood on her toes and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. Before the surprised boy could react, she said. "Good night, Gil," and hurried inside. Gil stood there, smiling with amazement and gently touching the spot she had kissed.

"Come on, son, it's late," his father yelled. Then he chuckled and said, "We'll be by here again tomorrow. You can return her kiss then, but don't let her mother see you doing it."

"Yes, sir," Gil said, "yes, _sir_!" He ran for his horse. "The sooner home, the sooner back." He jumped onto the horse, and father and son hurried off.

"Now as for you two," Piety said, looking at Paul and Jessie. "Amos, Malachai, pick a number from one to ten."

"Four," Amos yelled from where he was tying up the horses.

"Seven," Malachai said.

"It was five," Piety said. "Malachai, tonight you get to sleep on the settee downstairs, while Mr. Grant gets your bed. Hanna, Jessie will share your room. Jessie, I'll wait until morning before I tend your wound, if you don't mind."

"No, Miz... no, Piety. I'm kinda tired myself."

"Fine," Piety smiled. "But I don't want you girls stay up all night giggling and talking about boys."

"No, ma'am," Jessie said solemnly, and when she said it, she thought she meant it, emphatically.

* * * * *

 

Chapter 9 -- "Proposals"

Sunday morning found Jessie settling herself into the tub full of hot water. "Oh, this is pure heaven," she sighed. She and Piety were alone in the cookhouse that doubled as the Tyler family bath.

"You take as long as you need," Piety said. "Hanna and I have already bathed, and the men are all busy and won't wash up until tonight." She paused, not wanting to embarrass Jessie. "I had Amos bring in your saddle bags. I'm going to do some washing, and I thought I'd do the clothes you were in. You... you don't seem to have anything else to wear."

"No, ma'am," Jessie said. "I... ah... I took off in kind of a hurry."

"So the deputy said. Do you want to talk about what happened? Maybe, tell your own side of the story."

"No... Piety, I think, maybe I should save it for the judge." Jessie still had trouble believing that the woman was trying to be her friend. It was harder yet to think about what had happened that night with Toby, and to realize that...that she might just _hang_ for it.

'And for what,' she thought. 'I was just defending myself. Hell, that's _all_ that damned potion would let me do. They'd have probably all been happier if I'd let Toby do what he wanted. He'd surely have been a whole lot happier.' She shivered at the thought of being raped. 'Well, _that_ wasn't going to happen. All my life people been trying to push me around. And all my life I been fighting back. I wouldn't let it happen back in Toby's cabin, and I ain't gonna let them railroad me for what I done that night.'

Piety saw the fear, fear of hanging, and the anger, too, in Jessie's face and misunderstood. "He... he tried to... to do to you what you said those Commancheros wanted to do to all of us, didn't he? Oh, you poor, brave dear. I... I never realized... I... you wait here." She bustled out of the room. Jessie heard a doorlatch click.

Jessie leaned back and let the water soak out some of her fears. "I ain't gonna worry too much. I wasn't in a situation yet that I couldn't think or fight my way out of. Hell, if I get me that potion, I ain't even gonna be a girl no more." She thought for a bit. "Might be worth the risk of going back t'Eerie to get that second dose." She was beginning to have some ideas about that, too.

She picked up the bar of soap that Piety had put next to the tub. "In the meantime, I'll just scrub the top layer of trail dirt of this body." There was a washcloth with the soap. Jessie worked up a good lather and began washing on her left arm.

As she did, she thought about Paul and how to get the best of him. "It was fun yesterday, watching him square off with that Lieutenant DeWitt. Imagine them two big, strong men fighting over..." she let her voice go soft and husky, "...little, old me."

Without realizing it, Jessie moved the washcloth and began to slide it slowly across her breasts. She closed her eyes and pictured DeWitt. "That Lieutenant was kind of nice looking, and... oh, my... how he went on when I started flirting with him." Her breathing grew more shallow. "He had him one of those pointy-tipped mustaches that... that Sarah Fuller tried t'get me to grow. What'd she call them? Ticklers... now why would..." Her eyes widened as Jessie realized why. She giggled softly. "Why, Sarah Fuller, you... you brazen hussy."

Jessie giggled again. Her other hand moved to her thigh, as she wondered what a "tickler" would feel like. She ran a fingernail along the entrance to her vagina and shivered at the sensation. "Oooh, Jackson," she moaned.

Jessie's hand began to knead her breast. Two fingers of the other hand slipped into her cleft. She felt a warmth growing down... there, warmth that had nothing to do with the water she was in. "Ooh... ooh!"

Them DeWitt's image began to shift. In seconds, the lieutenant's face was replaced by that of Paul Grant. He was smiling. "Ooh... oooh, Paul." She began to pretend that it was his hands touching her, making her feel so, so...

"What the Sam Hill..." Jessie said, sitting upright in the tub. She pulled her hands away from her body and shook her head, as if trying to shake the images out, like a wet dog shaking itself to get dry.

The air was cool against her bare, wet skin. In a short time, the arousal she had worked herself into was gone. "Whew, that was close. You watch yourself, Jessie, m'gal."

She sighed and leaned back. "I gotta get changed back and _quick_. It looks like the only way t'd do that is to risk hanging and going back to Eerie with that damned deputy." She picked up the washcloth from where it was floating in the soapy water. She lathered it and began to clean herself again. Only now, she was _very_ careful about where and how hard she scrubbed.

'You just be careful, Jessie Hanks,' she thought. 'Wilma'd give you hell if she ever caught you acting like some horny woman.'

* * * * *

Jessie was just stepping out of the washtub when there was a knock on the door. "Who is it?" she yelled, grabbing for her towel.

"It's only me, Jessie." Piety Tyler's voice came through the door. "Are you done with your bath yet?"

"Just got out," Jessie said as she wrapped the towel around her body. It was wide enough to cover her from her breast to a few inches above the knee.

There was a click as Piety unlocked the door. She slipped in quickly and shut it hard behind her. "I brought you some clothes. Your own things are still drying." She put a pile of clothing down on a worktable nearby. "Were those really a pair of men's drawers in your saddle bag?"

"I left Toby Hess' Place in one big hurry. There wasn't time t'stop off for my clothes. I had to... borrow some of his."

Piety's eyes widened. "Then you... you did k-kill him." She began backing slowly towards the door. "I so wanted to believe..."

"Damn it, Piety, he ripped off my blouse and my camisole. I couldn't fight him off, so I kicked him right in the... right where it'd do the most good. He fell back and hit his head on a stone fireplace. _That's_ what killed him." She took a breath and watched for Piety's reaction.

Piety scowled. "I don't hold with the use of profanity, but I can certainly understand why you would use harsh language in this case. You have to tell Mr. Grant what happened at once. They can't... they mustn't punish a woman for defending herself." She actually sounded angry. "It just would not be right."

Jessie felt like hugging Piety. The woman actually believed her. "But whatever I told Paul, he'd just tell me right back that I should save it for the judge. If I read that man right, he's a fool for doing his duty to the letter.

"Would you like me to come with you to Eerie? I could go along and testify about what you did, how you saved my life. That should count for something. Amos or Malachai could come along and help me drive the wagon back afterwards."

Damn! "I... ah... I don't think you... ah... need to do that, Piety." She took a breath, not sure what to say. 'No, Piety,' Jessie thought. 'You don't need to come. You surely don't need to find out who I _really_ am, who I used to be. I don't want you and Hanna t'think of me as some sort of freak or t'judge me by Jesse Hanks' reputation.' Finally, she said, "Paul saw what I done, and I'd guess that he'll be up front about it at the trial."

"You really do trust that man, don't you? Piety's eyes narrowed for a moment, then she smiled. "More and more, I think that Hanna was right. I think you just want to be alone on the trail with that deputy."

"Do not!" Jessie was surprised at how fast, how emphatically, she answered. "I... ah... let's see what you brought me t'wear. I can't go around in this towel forever."

She picked up a pair of ivory-colored cotton drawers. Little lace frills were sewn in horizontal bands along both legs, and the tie strings at waist and knee were a matching lace. "These're real pretty," Jessie said, a little ruefully.

"Thank you. I added those frillies myself. After all those days in men's clothes, I thought you'd want to dress like a lady from the skin out."

Jessie had started to get used to wearing pants again, and she wasn't sure she wanted to go back to dresses. 'Can't very well pretend I ain't a gal,' she thought. 'Besides, I'll go back t'pants for the trail.' She shrugged and said, "I don't know about the 'lady' part, but it'll be nice t'wear some new clothes."

She stepped into the drawers, pulling them up past her hips and tying the tie strings at her waist. The drawers were a bit long on her, going a bit past her knees, but the strings would manage that. She didn't tie them though, wanting to wait until she had her stockings on. Instead, she reached for the camisole.

"Don't," Piety said. I want to check your wound first." She pointed to a chair at the end of the worktable. "Please sit down over there." Jessie walked over and sat in the chair. "Lean forward and put your arms down on the table, so they're not on my way."

Jessie did as asked. Piety's fingers worked the knots that held the dressing in place. Jessie felt it loosen as Piety unwrapped it. She flinched when Piety lifted the smaller bandage that was over the wound and touched it gently.

"I'm sorry," Piety said. "It seems to be healing well. The scab is solid. No sign of infection, thank the Lord. You may have a small scar there for the rest of your life, but I'd say that should be your only problem."

"When can I travel?"

"Oh, you can travel now. You got here, didn't you? I just wanted you to have a day or two of rest. I thought you'd earned it." She gingerly smoothed some sort of salve over the wound. Jessie felt a slight pain but didn't show it. The salve smelled of honey and spices, but it burned a little, too.

"That should help it heal." Piety put another small bandage over the wound, then wrapped the larger one around Jessie before tying it in place. "You can finish getting dressed now."

Jessie stood and reached for the camisole. It was also ivory, a match for the drawers. "You done all this needle work, Piety?"

"Yes, I learned to embroider lace from my grandmother, when I was a little girl. I do it in the odd moment -- especially in the summer, when there's light after dinner."

"And your husband don't mind you doing it with all the work there is to do around a farm?"

"Ephrem says that he gets the benefit of it when we..." Piety blushed. She suddenly seemed younger and much less stern.

Jessie chuckled. "Good for him -- and for you." She winked and slipped on the camisole. It was tight around her breasts, but she managed to get it buttoned. Thankfully, it was looser further down where the bandage was.

Piety's lips curled up in a shy smile. "Let's just keep _that_ between us, if you please." She glanced at a small pocket watch that was pinned to her apron. "I have to go now. The Parkers are coming over later, and I've got a supper to start. Hanna is helping, and you're welcome to join us when you're done."

She turned to leave then stopped and took something from an apron pocket. "I didn't see a comb or a brush or anything like that in your saddlebag. I thought you might want one, so you can borrow this." She put a hairbrush on the table next to the clothes.

"Th-thanks." Jessie looked cautiously at the hairbrush, a sudden, worrisome thought coming into her mind.

"You're welcome." Piety raised an eyebrow at Jessie's reaction, but she left without saying anything.

Jessie finished dressing as quickly as she could, stockings, petticoats, and skirt. The entire time, she kept looking at the brush.

"Damn it! I got outta that town. I robbed a stage and won a knife fight. I ain't gonna let no hairbrush beat me." She slipped on her boots and started for the door.

As she did, she heard a voice, Shamus' voice, in her head. "Ye'll be sitting down every day and brushing yuir hair, thirty strokes on each side."

"I ain't doing it!" She all but screamed, "I ain't; I ain't." The voice wouldn't stop. She found herself walking over and picking up the brush. "Oh, the hell with it." She sat down on a bench and began to run the brush through her hair.

As she did, she began to recite. "I'm a girl. I'm a girl." She said it once for each brushstroke. When she had finished, she threw the brush against the wall as hard as she could. It fell among some tools, barely noticeable. "And you can stay there till I'm long gone out of here," she yelled at it.

She stood and walked towards that door. "I don't care what it takes, even going back to Eerie with Paul. I'm gonna get that potion from Shamus somehow, so I can change back to a man."

* * * * *

"So, Paul," Ephrem Tyler began, "Piety tells me that you're planning to head out tomorrow."

"Yep," Paul replied. "She just told me Jessie's wound was healing up nicely. One more day to recover, and it shouldn't be no trouble on the ride home."

"I think he's just in a hurry to be along on the trail with that pretty piece of fluff." Fred Dobbs winked, then he nudged Tyler in the side with his elbow. The three men were standing in what was left of Tyler's barn. Ephrem wanted to know how much of his harnesses and other leatherwork Dobbs might be able to salvage.

"No," Paul said quickly. "I just want to get this over with, get Jessie back to Eerie, so we can settle the record on Toby Hess and how he died." Even as he spoke, Paul wasn't completely sure that was the only reason he was in such a blamed hurry.

"If you say so, Paul," Ephrem said, "but you must admit, she is a very fetching young woman."

"She can warm my blanket any time she wants to." Dobbs winked again.

Both men watched to see if the deputy would flare at the remark, but he didn't. "She's pretty enough," Paul said, "but I... I ain't interested."

"Then lie down, sir, 'cause you must be dead." Dobbs said with a laugh. "You sure don't look like no 'nancy boy', and any _real_ man'd be plenty interested in a sweet thing like that."

"Not if he knew her like I do," Paul said. "That woman's a wildcat."

"That sweet, little thing?" Dobbs said. "She ain't no wildcat, but she is _some_ kind of a pussy." He laughed again at the crude joke.

This time Paul stiffened, his hands curling automatically into fists. "Mr. Dobbs, you don't close that mouth of yours, I'm gonna..." He shook his head and sighed. He could hardly tell them the truth. "Look, you heard what Miz Tyler said about Jessie getting into a knife fight with one of those Commancheros."

"I heard," Dobbs said cautiously, "But I'm not sure that I believe any of it."

"I wouldn't either," Ephrem said, "if it'd been anybody besides my Piety that said it -- especially with Hanna backing up every word of it."

Dobbs shook his head. "Yeah, but her winning a knife fight against a man... and a Mex bandit, no less. Them folks give their babies knives t'teeth on."

"And that 'sweet thing' beat one of them," Paul said wryly. "And _that's_ who you're talking about my cozying up to on the way home. Me... I figure I'll have to watch my back the whole damned way, even if I hog tie her."

"You must admit, Paul," Ephrem said, "that it's hard to believe from just looking at Jessie."

"You don't know how true that is, Ephrem," Paul agreed. 'Sure,' he thought, 'tell them that she's really under a magic spell, and she wasn't supposed to be able to fight at all.' From the way the other women tell it, Jessie got that man to attack her. The magic'd let her defend herself. 'And if she's smart enough to figure _that_ out, she's even more dangerous than I've thought up to now.'

Dobbs noticed the way Paul was staring off into thin air. "Maybe so," he said, chuckling again, "but you're still thinking about her."

"You want to know _what_ I'm thinking about her?" Paul asked.

Dobbs answered with a leer. "Yeah, I can just imagine."

"I would, too," Ephrem said, trying to calm things, "if you're really offering to tell, that is."

"I am," Paul said slowly. "I'm thinking that Jessie Hanks is like one of those mustangs you still see out in the wild ranges. They're pretty to look at, all right, but they're the very devil. You try to ride one of them, it'll turn on you first chance it gets. It'll buck and twist and jump till you fall off its back. _Then_, it'll stomp you into the ground; kill you and bury you both at once." He paused and looked at them, especially Dobbs. "That satisfy your curiosity, Mr. Dobbs? Ephrem?"

Both men nodded, not knowing what else to say or do. "Then I'll leave you to your inspection," Paul said. "Good luck, Ephrem." He walked off with a satisfied gait.

Paul was almost back to the house, when he remembered something. His own horse, Ash, was a mustang. 'Break a mustang to the saddle without breaking its spirit,' he thought, 'and there's no better partner a cowboy could have."

"Yeah," he said aloud, "but Jessie's not really like a mustang -- is she?"

* * * * *

"Well, you certainly cleaned up nice."

Jessie turned to look at Paul. She did a slow turn, arms away from her sides, to show off how she looked. She immediately felt like some kind of a fool for doing so. Why did it matter if he cared how she looked? "Thanks," she mumbled, suddenly feeling sour. "I... I... ah... just got washed. Piety changed my bandage, too."

"How's it doing... that flesh wound, I mean?" His eyes trailed slowly down her torso from her breasts to where the bandage was. Was it her imagination that they had lingered a moment on her... chest, or that they kept going to consider the rest of her figure?

"I may have a scar, but it's coming along. Piety says I can... we can leave tomorrow."

"If she's sure... I don't want you to push yourself."

"I thought that you wanted to get me back as soon as possible." Back to hang, she let the thought slip out.

"I want to get back with a healthy prisoner, not have to stop along the way because that wound opened or went bad."

Jessie smiled mischievously. "If you can get me back at all."

"It's a shame I can't bring Miz Tyler along. You could promise her not to escape, and I wouldn't have to worry."

"How'd you like me to make a promise like that t'you?"

"I don't know if I can be as trusting as the Tylers."

"You can, if it's important enough t'me to keep the deal."

"Wh-what do you mean, Jessie, 'important enough' to you?" Paul felt a knot in his throat.

"I mean... hell, I'm tired of being this, being a female. I want t'be _me_, the real, male me again."

"I don't know if that's possible. I... I suppose Shamus might know --"

"He knows, all right, and I figured it out, too. That potion of his changes a person's sex. It changed us all into women, and if I drink another dose, it'll change me back into a man."

Paul laughed, remembering that Wilma had said almost the same thing. "Oh, it'll change you, all right, but not back to a man."

"What d'you mean by that?"

"The second time you drink, you'll get... umm... a whole lot more... it'll make you... oh, hell, Jessie, trust me it won't change you back."

"Says you. I say otherwise. You got some proof, something more than your word to show me?"

"Not here... back in Eerie."

"Then show it to me there. I'll make a deal with you. You promise to get me a drink of that stuff of Shamus' once we're back there, I'll promise t'go to Eerie with you."

"You don't know what you're asking, Jessie. I feel like I'd be tricking you."

"I don't care what you feel like. I'm making an offer -- my word of honor not to try anything -- are you man enough to take me up on it?" She stuck out her hand towards him.

Paul shrugged his shoulders in disbelief. It would make the trip back a lot easier, but it didn't seem right. Still, she'd never believe him if her told her about Wilma. She'd just have to see for herself. "All right, you've got a deal. I can't commit Shamus to anything, but I'll talk to him and the Judge and tell them that they should give you the potion, _if_ you still want it by then." He shook her hand. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

* * * * *

A child's cry rang through the house.

"Oh, heavens," Elsie Parker said. "She's awake." Elsie, Gil's mother, was a tall woman with light brown hair just beginning to go to an early gray. At the moment, her hands were dripping with the flour and water mixture of the dumplings she was making. "Can somebody see to Phoebe?"

"Not me, I'm afraid," Piety said, her sleeves rolled up. She was cutting a chicken into sections, and her hands were covered with blood and chicken skin. "Hanna, would you..." She looked around. "Now where is that girl?"

Jessie was peeling vegetables. "She went out to get some of that wood Gil was chopping for the stove." She stood up. "I'll go get her." No telling what else Hanna and Gil were doing out by the woodpile.

"Why bother, Jessie" Elsie said. "You just go in and see to Phoebe yourself."

"Me? But I..." Jessie felt a knot in her stomach. "I don't know what to do with a baby."

"Nonsense," Piety said. "What woman doesn't know how to quiet a baby? The good Lord gave every one of us woman the instincts to be a good mother, even one like you, Jessie, who hasn't had a lot of experience with children."

Jessie doubted that the 'good Lord' had had anything to do with the sort of woman that she was. On the other hand, if it was a matter of heathen gods and devils, well, that was another story.

"She's just over-tired," Elsie said. "She's a light sleeper, and Cyrus and Gil woke her up when they came home last night. It was hours before I got her to go back to sleep." Elsie cried again. "Please, Jessie, just go. I'm sure that you'll do fine."

"Yes, ma'am," Jessie sighed resignedly. She walked slowly into the front parlor. Phoebe, a two-year old with a mass of dark blonde curls, was standing in a wooden playpen, holding a vertical slat of it in each hand and shaking them as she cried.

Jessie had to smile. "You don't like jails anymore that I do, do you, you little mite?"

Phoebe stopped crying at the sound of Jessie's voice. She looked up at Jessie and smiled back. Then she lifted her arms. "Phoebe... out."

Jessie leaned over the playpen and gently lifted the toddler. "I ain't quite sure how t'do this without fumbling you, so I better sit." She took a seat on the nearby settee.

"You smell good enough," Jessie said, "and you had your bottle right there, so what in Sam Hill are you crying about?"

Phoebe yawned and stretched. Then she smiled, her eyes half-closed and tugged at one ear. "Seepy."

"Seepy? Oh... _sleepy_," Jessie said. At first, that confused Jessie. If Phoebe had wanted to sleep, she could have done that in the playpen. "You just want somebody to hold you while you go to sleep. Well, I... I guess I can do that." Rather than have her start bawling again, Jessie encouraged Phoebe to nestle down in her arms.

For a moment, Jessie just let her cradle there, but Phoebe soon became restless. Feeling she had to do something, Jessie gently rocked Phoebe. A snatch of memory, her own mother holding her close and singing a song, came back to her across the years. Jessie smiled at the memory and began to sing that old, barely remembered lullaby. "Hush, little baby, don't say a word. Momma's gonna buy you a mocking bird."

It seemed to have the effect that Jessie was trying for. Phoebe's eyes slowly closed. She yawned and made a sort of quiet, mewing sound. After a few minutes, she was asleep, snoring softly. Jessie kept rocking her and singing, just to make sure that she was sleeping soundly.

Then Jessie became aware that there were other people looking in on her.

"I'll take her now," Elsie said, stepping forward. She carefully took Phoebe from Jessie's arms and placed her back on a blanket in the playpen.

"You have a lovely voice," Piety said from the doorway. Hanna was standing there just behind her.

"Sure does," a man, somewhere behind both of them, said. It was Paul, now standing so that she could see his face over Piety's head.

"How long you was standing there?" Jessie hissed, keeping her voice very low as not to wake Phoebe.

"Long enough," Paul said with a grin.

Jessie stood up and glared at him. "Paul Grant, you better just keep quiet about this."

"That's right," Paul said, stepping back, his hands held up in mock surrender. "You've got a reputation to protect. Besides, if I ever said that I saw Jessie Hanks singing a lullaby to a babe in arms, why, people'd think I was as crazy as a parrot eating stick candy."

* * * * *

Jessie was changing for bed. She stood, her arms raised, enjoying the cool feeling of the borrowed linen nightgown as it slid down onto her body.

The door sprang open as Hanna ran in. She pushed it closed behind her and ran over to Jessie. "I've got such wonderful news," she said as she hugged Jessie.

Jessie flinched just a little. Hanna was squeezing her a bit close to where the bandage was. She smiled and mussed Hanna's hair. "It must be 'wonderful' the way you're carrying on. What is it?"

"I'm getting married... Gil and me. Our folks worked it all out just now. We have to wait till June. They say we're too young, and that is _so_ silly. We love each other. We'll wait, though. They're gonna give us a big, big wedding like I always dreamed of, and that's gonna take time to do up right."

"Well, congratulations," Jessie said when Hanna stopped to take a breath. "I knew you two were gonna make a real match of it sooner or later."

"And now it _happened_. I... I feel like I'm gonna explode, I'm so happy. You're coming. You gotta come; you gotta. You... you can be my bridesmaid if you want. Letty -- that's Gil's little sister; she's five -- is gonna be flower girl. Say you will. Please, please, please."

Jessie laughed at the way Hanna was carrying on, but she felt herself getting caught up in the girl's excitement. "We'll talk about it tomorrow. Right now, I think you gotta get ready for bed."

"Oh, I couldn't. I'm so... so happy. My head's too light to ever put it down." She suddenly yawned. "Or maybe not." She giggled and began to undress.

* * * * *

"I wish you didn't have to go, Jessie," Hanna said. "I'll miss you." The horses were saddled. Paul was going over a map with Ephrem one last time.

The girl was beaming. Already this morning, her mother had been buzzing with plans for putting together a nuptial party that would have people talking about it for months afterwards.

"You're gonna be too busy to miss anybody, getting ready for that wedding of yours, Hanna," Jessie said, with just a bit of a smile. "June's a lot closer than it looks by the calendar.

"And you'll be back for it, won't you? It wouldn't be... I really want you to be here. Please say you will."

"I don't know, Hanna." Jessie hesitated. 'With any kind of luck, I'll be my male self again,' she thought, 'and you wouldn't like ole Jesse Hanks at your wedding flirting with the ladies and scaring half the men.' She started. 'Damn, why do I keep badmouthing myself like that?' She reminded herself again how much she had liked being Jesse.

"Please, please say you'll be here. I... I'd love for you sing at my wedding. You have such a beautiful voice... like an angel's."

An angel's? When she'd been a man, folks had told Jesse Hanks that his singing sounded like a rusty gate in a blue norther. "I can't promise you anything, Hanna," Jessie admitted reluctantly." She turned and reached deep into one of Useless' saddlebags. "Just in case I _can't_ be there -- and I ain't saying I won't -- let me just give you a present now."

"You aren't going to come, are you?" She sounded almost ready to cry.

"No, no, Hanna. It's just that I don't know how the trial will come out. Call this... call this an engagement present." She found the cameo from the stage robbery, a small cameo, blue with the silhouette in ivory or mother of pearl, on a silver chain. She put it in the girl's hand.

"Oh, it's... it's lovely. I couldn't."

"Sure, you could, Hanna. I got it from... well, you never mind where I got it from. I just want you t'have it. Besides, ain't there something about old and blue that a bride's supposed t'have for luck?" She curled Hanna's fingers around the cameo.

"There is, and the rest of it says, 'something borrowed.' That's what this is, as far as I'm concerned. And you're gonna have to come to my wedding, so I can give it back." She threw her arms around Jessie, hugging her fiercely.

Jessie hugged her back. It felt like she was saying goodbye to kinfolk, not somebody she'd met less than a week before. "We'll see," she said, letting go of Hanna. Then she turned and quickly mounted Useless. Paul was already on his horse, watching the two females say their farewells. When Jessie was in the saddle, he nodded to her, and the pair rode off.

"You better be here for my wedding, Jessie Hanks," Hanna yelled, waving after them until they were out of sight.

* * * * *

  

  

  

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