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 10 -- "The Long Way Home"

Jessie thought she heard Paul Grant's voice. "You say something?" she asked.

"Finally," Paul said from across the campfire. "I must've asked you five times what you were thinking about. You hardly touched your supper."

Jessie ate a forkful of the hot stew, a gift Piety Tyler had packed in a small tin container for the first might on the trail. "There; you happy now?"

"Just trying to make some conversation. We're going be on the trail together three -- four days, maybe more. We might as well be civil to each other."

"I don't see... oh, what the hell. If you really gotta know I was thinking about you... sorta."

Paul grinned. "About me? Why, Jessie, I'm flattered."

"Yeah, well, don't let your head be getting too big. I was just wondering why you didn't tell the Tylers or anybody about me. That I was an escaped prisoner, I mean, that I was dangerous." She took a breath. "That I killed Toby Hess -- which I didn't, even if everybody back in Eerie thinks I did. It was an accident. I kicked him in the... I kicked him, and he _fell_ and hit his fool head."

"I don't think you killed him, Jessie. We... the Judge had an inquest -- you know what that is?"

"Sort of like a trial, ain't it?"

"Yep, only with nobody _on trial_, just a lot of questions being asked. I told the Judge what I saw, how Toby's body looked. Then the Doc talked about what killed him. Molly even --"

"Molly?"

"She was real worried about you, Jessie. She pushed her way into where we were holding the inquest, said somebody had to stand up for you if you weren't there to do it for yourself."

"What... what'd she say?" Jessie squirmed a little. Here she'd been planning to kidnap Molly, and the woman had stood up for her in a court of law. It was downright embarrassing.

"She talked about those clothes of yours, the ones Toby ripped off you. Then she said how you and the other women couldn't start a fight, but you could defend yourself if anybody tried anything." He looked straight at her. "I guess you figured a way around that, when you were with the Commancheros."

Jessie ignored the last comment. "So all them talked about how I didn't kill Toby, and the Judge still signs that damned warrant for my arrest."

"Jessie, it sounded like self-defense to us, but it doesn't matter what the Judge or me or anybody else thinks. It's not official till you say what happened in front of a jury, and _they_ decide." Paul took a bite of stew. "For what it's worth, I don't think that they're gonna find against you."

"And they're gonna let me go, then?" she asked wryly.

"Well, there _is_ the little matter of you running away."

"So here we are back at my question, again. Why didn't you tell the Tylers I was escaped from jail?"

"I didn't want to scare them... to make you sound dangerous." He saw her eyebrows furrow. "Okay sound _more_ dangerous. Besides, I didn't have the heart to do it."

"And what the Sam Hill does that mean?"

"In case you didn't notice -- and I know you did -- the Tylers like you. Hellfire, if Hanna had her way, they'd _adopt_ you. And you -- deny it if you want, but it's true -- you like them, too, in your own way. I heard how you were talking to Hanna just as we were leaving."

Jessie shrugged. "Hanna saved my life, after all, back there on the trail, and Piety stood up t'you about my going straight back to Eerie. So..."

"So? So you think they'd have felt the same way after I told them you were on the run from jail? You think you'd ever have gotten the chance to get as close to them as you did?"

"I... I guess not." She looked down into her stew, not wanting to go eye to eye with him or to admit that he was probably right. "Thanks... Thanks, Paul."

"Now, if I've answered all your questions, can I ask you one?"

"What?" She stiffened suspiciously. It wasn't in her nature to answer questions if they could be avoided.

"People always said Jesse Hanks was crazy, loco mean, too. That's a good reputation for an outlaw to have. I want to know how much of that is true?"

"All of it." She forked her eyebrows and grinned wickedly at him. "Every last word of it."

"No, it isn't, Jessie. A crazy mean outlaw isn't going to do what you did for Piety and Hanna. She's not going to sit and rock a baby to sleep, or to say goodbye to Hanna the way you did."

"I had my reasons for all that. And I don't need t'tell 'em t'you."

"Fine, then tell me something else. Why did Jesse Hanks act the way he did to get that reputation?"

"Why shouldn't he... I? People are all out t'get you if they can. Only way t'live is t'watch them like a hawk and t'make sure you get you get your bite in before they can get in theirs."

"The Tylers didn't want to take a bite out of you."

"Most people then. Been that way all my life."

"That ain't been my experience. Most people --"

"Will hang you out t'dry as soon as they get the chance. Let me tell you a story, Paul Grant, t'show you what I mean."

* * * * *

"I growed up on a little dirtwater farm in east Texas. The only thing ever t'come out of that soil was rocks. Pa tried and tried, but we was poorer than dirt. Pa had to take on odd jobs to keep us fed and clothed, such as it was.

"Mostly, he worked for Lem Stafford. Capt. Stafford, he had this big spread along Hangapple Creek; lotsa water, lotsa cattle, lotsa money. The Captain commanded my Pa's unit in during the War for Texas Independence. After the War, the new government gave him a whole valley's worth of land for his men. Only the Captain kept the best for hisself, and men like Pa got the rocky leftovers.

"Some of the men just up and left. The ones like Pa that stayed had to go to Stafford t'borrow the money they needed t'make a go of it. Pa owed the Captain for tools and medicine and seed and such, owed enough that he had to work part of the year for the Captain t'pay it off. It was that or get throwed off our own farm any time the Captain wanted.

"One day -- I was 5, I think, and Will was 9 -- Pa took us along on a job for Stafford, checking the pumps he used to get water outa the creek for his fields. Pa worked, while me and Will played outside. Pa whittled, whittled good. He'd just made us some toy soldiers, and we was playing with them.

"Capt. Stafford had him a son, too, Forry. Forry was 12, a big, gangly boy what thought the sun shined outta his ass. The Captain, he thought so, too. Forry come riding along on this sorrel his daddy'd bought him, and he seen us playing with them toys. Right off, he decided that he wanted 'em. He just jumped off that horse and says, "Gimme them; I wants 'em."

"Will and me didn't have much, so we wanted t'keep what we did have. "No, you can't have 'em," Will says.

"Well, he just squats down like Will and me ain't even there and starts picking up them toys. I run over t'stop him and he pushes me, pushes me hard. I stumbled back and fell into the creek. Forry justs laughs. "That'll teach you to keep things that belong to me."

"'The hell they do,' Will says. He runs over and slams into Forry, knocks him down on the ground. Then he starts beating on him.

"Forry don't do nothing for a minute. He just screams and tries t'block Will's fists with his arm. Then Will got in a lucky shot and cut Forry's lip. Forry tastes his own blood, and just howls. Then he jumps up and swings at Will.

"He weren't much of a fighter, no how, but he was four inches taller and twenty pounds heavier. Now Will's bleeding, too, but he'd a-won. Then Pa comes running out of the pumphouse yelling for us t'stop.

"Will, he stops. Forry sees him standing there and gets in one quick, sneaky shot that knocks Will down.

"'What's going on here?' Pa says.

"I'd climbed out of the creek by then, sopping wet and ready t'haul into Forry myself. 'He tried to steal them soldiers you made,' I says.

"'Quiet,' Pa said firmly. 'I was talking to Mr. Stafford.' His voice -- it was like an old man's, so weak and empty. 'I'll talk to you two when we get home.'

"Forry straightened himself, brushed some dust off his shirt. 'I... I was riding by and I saw your sons. I... umm... I came over to say hello -- yeah, to be neighborly. They...they cursed and started...they started throwing these toys at me. I took it for a while. After all, they _are_ so much younger n' me. Then they pulled at my horse's reins. I had to stop that. I got off Brommel -- that was his horse -- and the little one tried to jump me. I threw him off, and he fell into the creek. Then the other one started hitting me. I was just getting the upper hand when you came out.'

"Pa just nodded his head. 'They are a handful, Mr. Stafford. I'm... I'm sorry if they caused you any trouble. Sometimes, I don't know what t'do with 'em.'

"'I hear there's a good boys' home over in Houston. My father could put in a word if you'd like.' He said it friendly-like, but we all knew the threat inside them words.

"Pa shook his head. 'I don't know. Maybe they could apologize; make it up t'you somehow.' He saw Forry looking at the soldiers. 'Would... would you take them soldiers by way of their saying they's sorry?'

"'I... I don't know.' That snake just smiled at us. He knowed he'd won.

"'Please, just take 'em and call it even,' Pa said. "The boys need to be punished for starting the fight. You'll be doing me a favor.'

"'All right,' Forry said. Pa put them soldiers in the bag we carried them in and handed them to Forry sweet as you please. Forry tucked 'em in a saddlebag and rode off. I swear I could hear his horselaugh hanging in the air for an hour.

"Just before we left the pumphouse, I found one soldier that Pa'd missed in the tall grass. I stuck it in my pocket and didn't tell no one, not even Will.

"Pa explained things on the way home. Capt. Stafford had swore that he'd send the next boy that picked a fight with Forry t'the boys' home or t'jail. Pa hated t'act the way he done, but he had to t'protect us. He knew that the Captain'd send us away without a second's thought. Ma was dead by then, and we was all he had by way of family.

"Will told me that night that he hated Pa for being so weak. He wasn't never gonna be like that. He was gonna be big and mean and make the other folks scared of him. He brung it off for a while, then he beat up Forry in front of witnesses. Forry started the fight, but that didn't matter. They had him on the stage t'the home that very day.

"I didn't see no point in being like Pa neither after that. I cried a little to think that my Pa was such a coward. He just let them do that t'Will.

"About a week after Will went off t'the home, Forry got caught taking a jack knife from the store. Capt. Stafford said it was a mistake. He paid for the knife. Then, just for once, he whupped Forry right in front of everybody.

"There was a fire at the store that night. They caught it in time, so there wasn't no damage. They found the matches and turpentine that somebody used to start the fire, too. They found something else, a little wooden soldier, just like the ones Forry had, the ones he liked t'play with all the time. Forry said he didn't set that fire, but nobody'd been home with him t'give him a alibi.

"Well, he was Forry Stafford. Capt. Stafford paid for the damage -- just to be charitable, mind you, and it was forgotten... mostly. Even if they wasn't sure, folk never treated Forry quite the same after that

"Everybody thought it must've been Forry, though. Nobody else had toy soldiers like him. Not even me. I sorta lost mine -- that one that nobody else knew about -- the night of the fire.

* * * * *

Jessie looked skyward. "It's gonna rain. I can feel it in the air." It was early afternoon. She and Paul had stopped to rest their horses for a few minutes after an hour of hard riding.

"It already is -- off to the north and west." Paul pointed. The sky, miles off in both directions, was already black with storm clouds. Below the clouds, the view was blurred by the gray curtain of falling rain.

"Hope it don't ruin the Tylers' harvest." Her eyes followed the line of clouds to the south. She couldn't tell if they reached as far as the Tyler farm.

"I don't think it will. Eph said that they had most of it in before Manolo and his men showed up. They were working on the last of it that very day. Cy Parker's letting them store what didn't burn up with the barn at his place.

"Gotta take care of your in-laws," Jessie said with a smile, remembering Hanna's joy at the prospect of marrying Gil. "Even if they ain't your in-laws yet." She looked up again. "You think that rain'll bother us?"

"We're a good distance from the worst of those clouds, but I think I'll pitch a shelter for us when we set up camp tonight."

* * * * *

Paul reined his horse when he heard the noise, an odd, low rumbling sound. Jessie rode over to him. "What's the matter?"

"You hear that?" he asked, looking around. They were in the midst of a wide ravine in the open prairie. There was nothing unusual, as far as he could see.

"Sounded a little like thunder. Maybe that storm is getting closer."

Paul looked up. The sky was dark, but no darker than it had been an hour before. "I'm not sure. It sounded nearer the -- Oh, Lord! Ride, Jessie, ride for the high ground." He started galloping for the bank of the ravine.

A wall of water was rushing down the ravine towards them. It was a flash flood, rain that came down so hard that the ground couldn't soak it up.

Jessie stared for an instant, then used her reins to whip Useless into a full gallop. Paul was ahead of her, the distance between them widening. 'Damn, that horse of his can run,' she thought.

She was starting up the steep bank when the water hit; a great, wet hand that tried to pick up her and Useless and carry them along with it. Useless whinnied and kicked, but managed to keep his footing as the water poured over them. Jessie felt him lurch forward and continue climbing up the bank.

As Useless pulled free, the water seemed to wrap itself around Jessie and pulled her from the saddle. She tried to hold onto the reins, but the force of the torrent wrenched them from her hands. She yelled Paul's name and disappeared into the rushing torrent.

Paul had reached the top and turned. He saw her. He spurred Ash and rode along the bank just above the water's edge. He saw Jessie resurface, saw her head bobbing up and down, her arms flailing at the flood with little effect.

Ash was at full gallop now. The horse actually pulled ahead of Jessie. Paul stood in his stirrups. "Hold on, Jessie," he yelled. He took a breath and jumped into the water.

He was swimming even before he came back to the surface. His strong arms cut through the floodwaters as he moved towards Jessie. He caught an arm and pulled her to him. "Grab on," he yelled.

Jessie didn't move. She wasn't even looking his way; it was like she though she all alone and had just given up.

"Damn!" Paul turned them both and began to push Jessie towards the bank. The water was cold. His arms were getting tired. He was fighting the current as much as he was fighting Jessie's dead weight.

"Be damned if I lose you now," he swore. He pushed and kicked until he felt his feet hit land. 'Finally,' he thought with no little relief. He braced himself and stood, still holding Jessie tightly. He put his hands under her arms and dragged her out of the water.

Once they were well above the floodline, he laid her down. She was breathing steady, and there was no sign of any injury. Her eyes just didn't seem to focus on anything. "You're almost more damned trouble than you're worth." He sat down on the grass besides her. She still didn't seem to know that he was there.

He stood, then pulled her to her feet. He put one arm around her waist and held her hand with the other. She was unsteady, but she could walk. Slowly, the pair headed back to where Ash and Useless were now grazing.

A breeze came up, and Paul shivered. It was getting colder. "Best to build a fire first." He sat Jessie down, leaning her against a juniper tree, and walked over to Ash. He took off his shirt and pants and laid them across the saddle. Then he took his firemaking kit from a saddlebag.

Flint struck steel and threw off sparks into a piece of frayed flannel. Moments later, flames rose from the small pile of tinder that surrounded the flannel. Paul carefully added larger and larger pieces of wood. In a few minutes he had a comfortable fire. "Jessie," he called to her. "Come on over and get warm."

She didn't move. She was still slumped under that juniper where he'd left her. Her hands raised in front of her. She seemed to be talking, but he couldn't make out what she was saying. Paul walked over. "Useless," she was saying. "W-w-worse th-than u-u-useless "

Her face was pale and she was shivering badly. Paul looked closer. Her teeth were chattering and, "Damn," he said, "her lips are turning blue."

Paul pulled her to her feet and walked her quickly to the fire. She still didn't know where she was, and she kept repeating the word "Useless" over and over. Was she out of her head? Her condition reminded him of cases of heatstroke he'd seen riding trail. Was something like that for drowning? The problem was, heatstroke could kill sure as any bullet. Could this?

He pulled at her shirt buttons, ripping one off, but he did manage to get her shirt off. He undid her pants and let them slide partway down her legs. Then her sat her down and pulled off her boots. Her pants followed her boots almost as quickly. He just tossed them all out of the way. There'd be time to hang them up to dry later.

She didn't react to anything he did.

Paul tried very hard not to notice the way her wet camisole and drawers molded themselves to the supple curves of her body or the way her nipples, erect from the cold, could almost be seen through the wet fabric. So could that dark blonde patch that showed through her drawers at her crotch.

He grabbed at his bedroll until the blanket came free. He wrapped it around her and began to rub vigorously. He wanted to dry her off and to get her blood circulating, anything to fight the cold that was seeping down into her very core.

* * * * *

Jessie held onto the reins for all she was worth as the flood washed over her. "Ain't no water gonna get the best of me," she swore through gritted teeth. It was no use; she could feel the leather slipping away. Three fingers... two... one... a moment later the water pulled her free. She yelled for Paul as it dragged her under.

She managed to get back to the surface and started trying to swim to the bank. The current pulled at her like a living thing. The bank seemed to move farther away even as she swam.

The undertow pulled her down again. 'Jesse would have made it,' was her last thought before she sank. Jesse Hanks had mastered the tides of the Atlantic when he and Will had hid out in New Orleans. He would have had no trouble with this flood.

_She_ wasn't strong enough. 'This damn woman's body of mine is useless; it's gonna let me die.' The thought echoed in her head as she fought to get back to the surface. Her mind withdrew in panic as she began to believe the notion.

Someone -- she was too dazed to recognize Paul -- grabbed her arm. He twisted around and now he was pushing her towards shore. She should try to help, but with her weak, woman's body -- her arms felt like lead -- what could she do? She was barely aware that he pulled her out of the water and laid her out on the hard ground.

After that, she was cold, cold to the bone.

She was vaguely aware of Paul stripping her. She felt the blanket rubbing against her body. The cold, the terrible cold began to leave her, leave her arms, her back, her legs. She moaned and stretched as feeling returned, as blessed warmth seeped back into her.

And more than warmth. She felt hands moving across her breasts, her thighs. She trembled, ashamed somehow to be touched there, but so needing the warmth that came with being touched. Without thinking, she arched her back and spread her legs to help the touch reach her better.

The warmth she felt there was different... better. A tingly pleasure came with it, a childlike delight in being touched, in knowing the physical contact of another human being. The feelings grew more intense the more the hands touched her. She began to move her body to match the rhythms of the massage. A new thought came to her, that she wanted... she _needed_ to be touched.

A face suddenly loomed before her, only inches away. Some instinct she didn't know she had taken over. She moaned low in her throat and raised her head toward the face. Her arms rose, too. Lips touched....

* * * * *

Paul had been frantic. Jessie was shivering, turning blue, from the cold. He rubbed her all over with the blanket to warm her. That included the places where a gentleman didn't normally touch a lady, but getting her warm was more important than being polite.

Jessie suddenly moaned and threw her arms up and around his neck. Paul was too startled to react against being pulled towards her. And kissed.

Paul tried to push her off, but she was holding on for dear life.

Jessie felt his warm body press against hers. Slowly, she became aware again. Someone was holding her, kissing her. And she was kissing him... kissing Paul. Her eyes opened wide. "What the hell!"

With a gut reaction, she struck his face and pushed him back. She felt a chill as soon as she was away from the warmth of his body and looked down at herself. "My-my clothes --"

Paul rubbed his face where she'd struck him. He felt a little bit of wetness where her nail had dug in. "You were sopping wet," he quickly explained. I-I was just trying to get you warm and dry."

Jessie wrapped the blanket tightly around her. "I know what you were trying."

She stood up, walked around to the other side of the fire, and sat down again, huddling in close to the flames. She was still cold, and her hair especially felt wet. More than that, her body still craved the sensations she'd felt. But all she could think of was what they had been doing when she woke up. Worse, she couldn't decide if she should be mad or... worried.

Eventually, she sagged to the ground AND fell asleep, the blanket still clenched tightly around her.

Paul pulled his hat down over his scowl and rested his head in the seat of his saddle. Why had he felt like he had to make an explanation about why he'd done what he'd done? Jessie Hanks was the one who had started all the kissing. If she didn't like it, she shouldn't do it. If that wildcat tried it again -- well, if the wildcat tried it again, maybe he'd just _let_ her. That would teach her. With that pleasant thought, Paul Grant, too, gave himself up to slumber.

* * * * *

The smell of coffee woke Jessie. She was still wrapped in the blanket, but there was a second blanket over it, and her head was resting on a saddlebag.

Paul was on the other side of the fire fixing breakfast. He saw her sitting up. "Good morning," he said, with a smile. "Feeling better?"

"I-I guess so. I'm not cold, anyway. Where's my clothes?"

"Hanging up with mine, trying to dry." He pointed over to a rope stretched between two trees. Her shirt and pants, the only ones she had, damn it, were dangling down from it along with Paul's own clothes. Unlike her, he had spares. "We're not going to stay here all day. You can wear that dress Miz Tyler gave you, and our other clothes can finish drying tonight."

Jessie didn't like the idea of wearing the dress on the trail, but she liked the idea of wearing wet clothing even less. "All right, but no looking while I get dressed." She checked the saddlebag she'd been using as a pillow and. Yes, her dress and... and -- surprise! -- an extra set of Piety's frillies that she hadn't known about were inside.

She picked up the saddlebag and the spare blanket and walked over to the trees, with the first blanket still wrapped around her. She draped both blankets over the rope where the clothes were drying.

There was a slight breeze, and the drawers and camisole she had on were still damp. Jessie shivered. "Thank you, Piety, for something dry," she said, as she began to unbutton her camisole.

By the time she came out from behind the blankets, Paul had breakfast ready, biscuits and some sausage from another of Piety's food tins to go with the coffee. "Smells good," Jessie said.

"Thank you, my lady," Paul said, handing her a plate.

"My lady? Where the hell do get off calling me that?"

"Sorry...Jessie. After the flood last night and the way you're all gussied up right now, you just reminded me of one of them 'damsels in distress' from the dime novels."

"Well, if that isn't the dumbest..." She at down on and took a bite of food. "Not bad. You can cook for me any time... kind sir." She read dime novels, too. The women in those things were just things for the hero to rescue. 'Ain't a backbone in the whole lot of them,' she thought. 'He'd be sorry if i was really like that..."

An idea came to her. She smiled like a cat in a creamy. 'If he wants to talk to me like a dumb little thing, I'll give him more dumb-little-thing than he can stand. Maybe he'll show me some respect afterwards. Even if the idea don't work, it'll be fun getting him riled.' She started thinking of the girls she'd known and of all the things they did that used to send her up the wall when she was a man.

After that, breakfast tasted even better.

When she finished, Paul put out the fire and started packing up the food and cooking gear. "It's my kit," he said. "Why don't you go tend to the clothes?"

"Why, of course," she said, putting a lilt into her voice. 'Damned woman's work,' she added to herself. She walked over to the line. The clothes were still damp. Clothes never dried worth a damn at night. She took down one of the blankets and laid it on the ground to use as a workspace for folding the garments. She put her own clothes in the saddlebag but left Paul's piled on the blanket.

When she had finished, she walked over to untie the rope from the trees. The knot wouldn't budge; Paul had pulled it tight. 'Time t'start my plan,' she thought. Aloud, she whined, "Paauul, this knot is too _hard_. Help me."

"What's the matter, Jessie?" Paul had never heard her use that tone. If she was playing another game with him...

"The knot you tied; I can't get it undone." She sounded like she was about to cry. "_You'll_ have to do it."

He walked over and started prying apart the knot. It was tight, all right, but she'd given up awfully fast. "There you go."

"Oh, you're _so_ big and _strong_," she simpered, batting her eyelids.

Paul shook his head. 'What the hell is she playing at?' He picked up his clothes and blanket and walked over to where Ash was tethered to finish loading.

* * * * *

"What's the matter, Jessie?" Paul asked. He was up on Ash and ready to ride. Jessie had a foot in the stirrup, but she seemed to have trouble getting up on her horse.

"It's this silly dress." She put her foot back on the ground and lifted the front of her dress a few inches. "I...I don't know how to ride in a dress." She looked down as if embarrassed. "Can you help me... pretty please?"

"I suppose." Paul dismounted and walked over to her. "Put your foot back in the stirrup. That's it."

Jessie did, raising her skirt high and revealing her drawers and lower legs. "No peeking," she chided.

Paul took a step back, so he was just behind her. "Wouldn't dream of it." He put his hands around her waist. "Now, ready... set..." On "go!" he lifted her up onto the horse. 'Such a narrow little waist,' he thought, 'and light as a feather, too.'

She swung her leg over to the other side, then adjusted her dress for modesty. "Oh, thank you _so much_," Jessie gushed. "I just knew you could do it."

"My pleasure." He shook his head as he walked back to Ash. It was going to be a long day.

* * * * *

Paul had to help Jessie get down from Useless, when they stopped for the night. She insisted on setting up the line to dry their clothes, but she couldn't seem to tie strong enough knots. She whined about it to the point that he stopped working on the fire to help. It had gone out by the time he got back, and he had to start over. By the time she stopped fussing with the clothes, he'd already started cooking their dinner. She just sat on the ground, smiled prettily -- he had to admit -- and watched him work.

"You are so gallant, sir," she said, when he handed her a plate of the stew he'd made. "And such a _wonderful_ cook."

"I thought you'd have learned a little about cooking yourself, working with Molly and Maggie for two months."

"It seems to all go over my head. I guess I'm just not very bright." She batted her eyes at him again before she started to eat.

Paul sat watching her all through the meal. She shoveled the stew in, just the same as every other meal. Then she caught him watching and slowed down, taking little, ladylike bites until she was finished. "Oh, me, oh, my," she said. "That was just _scrumptious_."

He sighed. 'I've had about enough of this nonsense,' he thought. He was sitting on a tree stump. He patted his lap and said, "Well, now, why don't you just come over here and show me how much you liked it."

Jessie stood and walked over, hips swaying. 'Damn, I knew this would be fun. Ain't no problem sitting on his lap, and if he tries anything, I get to slap his face, and he ain't likely t'do anything more'n apologize.'

As she went to sit down, Paul grabbed her arm and twisted her around. Jessie lost her balance and fell stomach-down across his lap. "What the..." She tried to stand, and he pushed her back down.

"You've been asking for this all day, Jessie," Paul said. He began to spank her. "I've warned you before about playing these kind of games. If you're going to act like a child, I'll treat you like one."

An open-handed swat came down on Jessie's rump, and it hurt more than a little thing like that should have. "You... cad!" she yelled. "Let me up."

"Are you going to start acting like an adult?" he demanded.

Jessie wasn't willing to back off. "Why, whatever to you mean, sir? She squirmed, but he held her down with his other arm. On second thought, maybe she shouldn't be acting the way she had been. She'd gotten him sore. This was getting undignified. Being slung over his knee wasn't any way to make him respect her more. Then Paul began to smack her in earnest. "Let me up, you... you -- ow! -- you, bastard."

"Bastard! _That's_ the Jessie Hanks I know," Paul said, with a chuckle, but he kept spanking her.

Jessie's bottom hurt as the open-handed slaps rained down, but something else was happening.

The thrill of held and -- what? -- dominated? got stronger with each blow. She continued to yell and bounce around, but wasn't sure she wanted him to stop.

But he did. Then he helped her to her feet. "Now, that's what you get for acting like a fool child, Jessie. You start acting like a grown woman, and I'll start treating you like one." Paul caught himself. Why hadn't he demanded that she start acting like a man? It surely would be easier to travel through this wild place with a man instead of a woman of any age.

She gave him an insincere smile and whispered "Bastard" through her teeth. Then she walked away and sat down -- gingerly -- on her blanket. Her bottom hurt like the very dickens, but she wasn't about to let him have the satisfaction of seeing her try to rub out the soreness. After a while, the soreness went away on its own. The other feelings went away, too, but, in the back of her mind, Jessie began to wonder what Paul meant when he talked about treating her like a "grown woman".

* * * * *

Paul's words echoed through Jessie's mind all the next day. "Treat you like a grown woman." She caught herself wondering just what that would be like.

"Treat you like a grown woman."

'Dammit,' she thought, 'I spend all this time trying t'prove that I ain't no woman, and now I'm thinking about what it'd be like to be treated like one. I gotta be plumb loco.'

"Treat you like a grown woman."

She shook her head. 'Wilma'd never let me hear the end of it, if she caught me acting like some man-crazy gal.'

"Treat you like a grown woman."

'Besides, Paul said he'd get me that second dose of potion, and a man like him would rather crawl naked over a patch of cactus than break his word. He'll talk the Judge and Shamus into giving me that potion, no matter what it takes; I'll be a man again in no time.'

"Treat you like a grown woman."

She sighed. 'All right, Jessie, if that's what you want to find out -- if you got the sand t'do it -- you better do it before it's too late.' She nodded her head firmly; the decision was made. She'd do something to satisfy her curiosity after supper that very night.

"Treat you like a grown woman."

* * * * *

Jessie took a swig of coffee and looked over at Paul. He was sitting on the ground studying the map Ephrem Tyler had given him. He glanced up and saw her watching him. "Near as I can figure, Jessie, we're about a half day's ride west of Eerie. We'll be there tomorrow afternoon."

Tomorrow. Jessie hadn't been sure that she wanted to go ahead with her plan, but... 'Now or never,' she thought. She took a deep breath and stood up. She reeled a little and felt her heart pounding in her chest. 'This is worse than robbing that stage, and -- oh, Lordy, don't let him _ever_ find out about that.'

She walked slowly over to him. "You know, Paul, I was thinking..." She bit her lip nervously.

"About the trial? I told you --"

"N-no, about...about...."

Paul looked at her with increased interest. The way she held herself, the tone of her voice, made her seem somehow different from the outlaw full of bravado _or_ the simpering belle she liked to play at being. "About what, Jessie?"

Jessie braced her jaw and forced out exactly what she meant. "Why did you kiss me when I was half drowned?"

The lawman frowned. That wouldn't sound good in court. Also, it wasn't what had really happened. "I never took advantage of a woman in my life. For your information, Miss Hanks, it was you who did the grabbing and kissing."

Jessie frowned back at him. "I could hardly stand up. Are you saying that you couldn't fight me off?"

Paul looked away, pushed his hat back from his forehead, and grinned. "Maybe you started it, but I didn't see any reason to get rough. It wasn't all that bad, really."

"Not bad? I'd have thought it would be pretty bad for you, since you wouldn't want it to get out that you kiss boys, after all."

He turned back to face her sternly. "Don't think you can blackmail me that way, Jessie. If you tell folks back home that you kissed me, they'd only slap me on the back and buy me a round. The truth is, I never knew you as a man, even if I was there, backing up Dan, when you and the others took that drink of potion. I only got to know you as the woman you are now."

"You're just talking."

"Would it make you mad if I said that I wasn't?"

She smiled a challenge. "When I tried acting like a woman, you got mad and... chided me."

"That wasn't what set me off."

"I think it was. And I can prove it."

He didn't like the gleam in her eye and steeled himself to be ready for anything. "How, by some more damned fool swishing and fluttering?"

Her smile changed but didn't fade. "I've got a much better way than that. It will prove what you really think I am. Just be sure to yell 'Uncle' when you can't take any more." Jessie sucked in a deep breath, every nerve in her body felt alive to danger, like she was about to step off an arroyo cliff. If this last challenge didn't put a ramrod up Paul Grant's spine, nothing would.

"I don't yell 'uncle' easy, gal," he replied, his eyes more suspicious than ever, but somehow brightened by anticipation.

She lifted her arms and placed them on his shoulders. He blinked once, but otherwise didn't move. She sat down on his lap; still no reaction. She slowly brought her face closer to his. When even that didn't cause him to recoil, she asked, "You still think I'm a gal?"

"You sure enough still look like a gal to me," he said. "If you're not a gal, it's up to you to prove it."

"We'll see what I can prove," Jessie declared, her lips NOW so close that Paul could feel her warm breath puff against the sensitive lining of his nose. He noticed, too, that her eyes were the color of bluebonnets.

"Any time you're ready," Paul teased, his voice sounding taunt and husky. 'If this is another put on,' he thought, 'she'll get herself a hotter spanking than the last one.'

"Are you ready for...this..." Jessie whispered, the hard pumping of her heart now pulsing in her ears. The last word hadn't faded into the air before her lips touched his. Her fingers dug into his shoulders. If he were going to push her away, he would do it now.

His body firmed up under her touch, but Jessie didn't sense his repulsion, far from it. In fact, she thought she felt a ripple of excitement course through the shoulders she held, and through the thighs she sat upon. Encouraged, she took a grip that was more firm and drew herself in closer. Her breasts now pressed against his hard chest and her elbows came in to reinforce the hold of her hands. Still he didn't give back, so she increased the pressure of the kiss.

He didn't shave regularly on the trail, and his beard felt strange against her face. Kissing a man was so different from kissing the soft face of a girl, something she'd done many times. Now she was experiencing something new. It was strange, but it was something she was determined to try.

Before she realized it, she was kissing Paul Grant as hard as Sarah Fuller had ever kissed Jesse Hanks. 'Hell,' she thought, 'if any man from Santa Fe saw us here, he'd think I _was_ Sarah Fuller with just another of her hundred beaus.'

But Jessie still didn't know what the man with her was thinking and feeling, and not knowing was driving her mad.

Suddenly she felt his body shift, and she braced herself, afraid he was going to stand up and let her drop to the ground. That thought only lasted a second. He'd moved to put one hand behind her back, and the other around her waist. He drew her to him, and put so much force into the kiss that she could no longer breathe.

Eventually, they had to break the kiss or else suffocate. "Jessie," Paul panted, "what... why are you doing this?"

She glanced down, breathless also, not sure how to explain. "I...I was wondering what being treated like a grown woman felt like." But all she really felt at that moment was a pang of fear; how was he going to react to her saying something like that?

Paul let out a heavy sigh, smiled, and shook his head. "You are the craziest... most loco..." Her heart sank. He hated her. "...woman I ever met."

She gave a short laugh. "If you're not just pretending, go ahead and treat me like one." She kissed him again, excited little pecks on his lips, his chin, his nose. He reached out and steadied her head in his hands. Then he drew her close and kissed her full on the mouth, more softly, but somehow more fully, than before.

Jessie, casting aside all restraint, moaned softly and threw her arms around him. Again, her breasts pushed up against his chest, this time with her nipples hard like two little thimbles. Her crotch tingled; it felt warm and just a little damp. Was this what Sarah Fuller and all those other women had felt when Jesse had kissed them? Was this what it felt like to be a woman with a man?

When they separated this time, Paul began unbuttoning her shirt. He really didn't think of her as a man, she realized, or else he was a damned strange sort of man. She hesitated a moment, then began working on the buttons on his shirt. She'd never undressed another man before, and her fingers fumbled in their eagerness. They finished at about the same time, and each pulled the other's shirt open.

Paul hadn't worn anything under his shirt. Jessie fingers played over his broad chest, covered with curly, dark brown hair. She slid her fingers down from just below his collarbone almost to his stomach.

Paul twitched from the way she was tickling him, but he didn't take his fierce eyes off her the swell of her bosom. Jessie was wearing the camisole Piety had loaned her. It was ivory, with lacy frills that both hid and drew the eye to her breasts. Jessie was better endowed than Piety, and the fabric was stretched tight. He could see her nipples poking out the lace, and he reached to touch them.

"Hey..." She jerked back at the touch of his fingers on her breasts. The sensation was much, much stronger than she expected.

"Sauce for the goose, Jessie," Paul said with a grin. He began to caress her fetching fullness through the lace and cotton. Jessie moaned and arched her back, pushing her breasts deeper into his hands. She leaned forward and kissed him again. And again. Why was she doing this, she wondered. Was she insane? If so, sanity wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

After a while, Paul gently began to unbutton her camisole and to fiddle with his finger around the buttons in her pants. Jessie suddenly pulled away and stood up. "No!"

"What? What's the matter, Jessie?"

"It's too much too soon. I can't go this fast. What will both of us think when I become a man again?"

"You don't have to worry about that," Paul said breathlessly as he rose and faced off with her. It looked like he was struggling with himself not to grab her and to crush all protests with strong arms and wild kisses.

"Yes, I do! We're gonna be in Eerie tomorrow, and soon as you can after that, you're gonna get me that potion, and I'm gonna be a man --"

"Jessie, about the potion..."

She glared. "You ain't gonna go back on your word, now are you? 'Cause if you are, then all bets are off." She looked around for her shirt. There it was, tangled up in a mesquite bush.

"No, Jessie," Paul said a little sadly. "If you still want the potion, I'll get some for you." There was no way he could explain what a second dose would really do; she'd never believe it. Now, more than ever, though, he felt that he was tricking her. She'd hate him for it, and _that_ was something that he didn't even want to think about.

She smiled and put the shirt down. "Thank you. Anyway, if I'm gonna be a man again, I don't want to have to face anybody that I went... too far with as a gal. Do you under stand that?"

"I-I guess so." He picked up his own shirt regretfully.

Jessie smiled. "'Course, the fact that I don't want to go no further don't mean we can't keep on what we _been_ doing." She stepped in closer to him, put her hands on his solid hips, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed him again.

* * * * *

Jessie slowly became aware that she was sleeping on something other than a saddlebag. She opened her eyes. She was cuddled up against Paul. Her head was on his chest, his bare chest. He had his arm around her waist, his hand resting on her belly. She still wore her camisole and pants. As she realized this, her body began to feel strangely alive once again. She turned her head and lightly kissed his chest. The sun wasn't quite up yet. The air was cool, so she shifted the blanket to cover more of his bare flesh. She snuggled in a little closer and sighed softly.

"Treat you like a grown woman."

Now she had a better idea what that meant. Even though she was happy to be going back to Eerie, going back -- real soon -- to being a man, a part of her knew that she'd regret what she was giving up.

She closed her eyes and went back to sleep.

* * * * *

 

Chapter 11 -- "Homecoming"

Jessie reined in Useless just as they passed the crude wooden sign that read, "Eerie, Arizona -- Welcome, Friend."

"Paul," she said, "before... before we go any further, I gotta ask you something."

"Sure, Jess, what?" He reached over and touched her hand with his fingertips.

"Will you promise me that you won't... won't say anything -- or do anything about what we done... how we kissed and all that back on the trail." She bit her lower lip and slowly moved her hand away from his.

"Having second thoughts, Jess?"

"Yes... no... yes, dammit! I mean... I, well, I liked it good enough, but I'm... I'm gonna be a man again, soon enough. I-I don't want anyone should think that--"

He could see the mixed emotions in her face. "All right, Jess. I won't say -- or do -- anything unless you say otherwise." Her eyes narrowed. "Don't look at me like that -- you _might_ decide that you're better off the way you are." To himself, he added, 'after you find out that you _aren't_ changing back.' For maybe the hundredth time, he wished that he could tell Jess about what a second drink of the potion would _really_ do; tell her and get her to believe it. That last was the hard part.

"I don't know why I ever could think that, but, if that's the best promise I can get, I guess I'll have to take it." She frowned and flicked Useless' reins.

The trail into town widened into a street with buildings on both sides. The street itself was wide enough for a loaded wagon to turn around. It was a busy Friday afternoon. Paul waved to a couple of hands he knew from Slocum's ranch as they loaded supplies into a wagon at O'Hanlan's Feed and Grain. He thought he recognized some men from one of the other, smaller nearby ranches going into Ortega's grocery store.

"Hey, they caught Jessie," someone called. Paul and Jessie both turned. It was Ned Handy, just come out of the assay office as they rode past. Nobody had found that "Big Vein" in the mountains north of the town, but there were a lot of men like Ned up there looking for it.

Jessie frowned. Toby Hess had been one of those men. 'If he'd kept his mind on his claim and not on my tits, he'd still be up there looking,' she thought. 'And I wouldn't be looking t'be hung for it.'

She felt a knot in her stomach, every outlaw's fear of the noose. Bile rose in her throat. "The hell with this." She tried to turn Useless and ride out of town. Her hands wouldn't keep hold of the reins. Her arms shook and suddenly felt leaden. "Dammit! What's the matter with me?" She struggled, trying to move her arms.

Paul tried not to grin. "The same thing that kept Wilma from escaping when she got that gun."

"What're you talking..." Then realization hit her. "The potion, that damned potion!"

"I think so. Now that you're back in Eerie, it won't let you ride away any more than it'd let her run out of the Saloon."

Jessie made one more try, but her arms just dangled at her sides." She sighed and looked heavenward. "All right, all right. I won't try to leave town." As soon as she said it, she could feel her fingers moving again. She grabbed the reins. "You so much as smile, and I'll..."

"No, you won't," Paul said, barely keeping a straight face. "The potion won't let you." He flicked his own horse's reins. "C'mon, now, smile, Jess. We'll be at the Saloon in a minute."

"The Saloon?" Yes, there it was just ahead of them. She followed Paul towards it. "I thought you was taking me t'jail." Not that jail was somewhere she _wanted_ to go.

"You are," Paul said, as he dismounted. "Don't you remember, Shamus's saloon is officially the Eerie, Arizona Special Offenders' Penitentiary -- or something like that?"

Jessie tried to smile. "Oh, yeah. The only jail in the West where they serve beer." She climbed down from Useless. "Well, let's go see the warden."

She walked into the building, Paul right behind her. 'Place ain't changed much,' she thought. 'Except... who's that?"

A slender, red-headed woman in an expensive-looking green dress was sitting at a nearby table. She was facing away from the door, moving a couple of playing cards between several rows of cards on the table. It was some kind of solitaire, Jessie guessed. Then the woman turned her head slightly, and Jessie saw her face. "Bridget?"

Bridget Kelly looked up from what she called "Maverick Solitaire" when she heard her name. "Jessie? Jessie, well, I'll be damned!" She rose and walked quickly towards the pair. "Hey, Shamus," she yelled to no one in particular, "Molly, come see what the cat dragged in."

Paul pushed his hat back on his head and grinned. "I don't know as I like being called 'the cat', Bridget."

"More like bloodhound, if ye could track this one down," Shamus said with a chuckle, walking over. "Hello, Paul... Jessie."

Jessie tensed. "You must be getting soft, Shamus, if you'll let Bridget go around all gussied up like that."

"What Miz Kelly wears is her own concern, Jessie" Shamus said. "She don't work for me any more. She's in business for herself, don't ye know."

"For herself?" Jessie asked, not a little confused. "Doing what?"

"Poker, Jessie," Bridget said. "I pay Shamus for the right to run the game here,"

"Aye," Shamus said with a grin. "And making a good living at it, she is, even after what she pays me."

Molly came bustling over. "Who cares about how much Bridget pays ye. Stand back and let me get a look at Jessie." She gave Jessie a big hug, then stepped back and looked at her closely. "Ye don't seem t'be any the worse for wear for all that happened to ye. Ye'll have to be telling us all about it."

"No," Shamus said firmly. "The first thing she'll be doing is going upstairs and change into proper clothes. There's a pile of work waiting for ye, Jessie."

"No," another, familiar voice said. "This is what's waiting for her." A hand came out of nowhere and slapped Jessie's face very, very hard.

Jessie spun around to face her attacker, her hand on her stinging cheek. "Laura? What the hell did you just slap me for?"

The woman bared her teeth. "I ain't Laura. I'm her sister, Jane, but I used to be Jake Steinmetz, the partner of the man you _killed_. Well, they got you now, Jessie Hanks, and you're gonna hang for what you done."

Jake Steinmetz? A lot _had_ happened since she'd been away. Then Jane's words sank in. _Hang_. It was what Jessie had feared the whole time, and now, hearing someone else say the word made it sound that much more certain.

"Jane, ye'll be stopping that kind of talk right now and no hitting her either," Shamus ordered. "It's up to a jury to be deciding, and they may not be seeing things yuir way." Jane was about to say something more, but Shamus' order stopped her. Instead she just glared at Jessie.

Then Shamus turned to Jessie. "As for ye, me girl. You go upstairs right now, and change. Ye're me prisoner again, and I'll have ye looking like a lady and not some saddle bum."

* * * * *

Jessie came down about twenty minutes later wearing a pale blue dress. She walked a bit oddly, trying to get used to the petticoat she hadn't worn in so long. There'd been a basin and pitcher of water in her room, as always, and she'd used it to wash off some of the trail dust. She'd brushed her hair, too, repeating, "I'm a girl" after each stroke, much to her disgust.

Molly met her at the foot of the stairs. "Ye look lovely, Jessie. Why don't ye go work at --"

Judge Humphreys interrupted. "I'm afraid she can't work here tonight, Molly."

"What do ye mean, Judge?" Molly asked. "Of course, she can work here."

"No," the Judge said, "she can't. She's an escaped prisoner and a possible murderer. She has to be in jail until a jury can hear her case."

"She is in jail," Shamus said. "It was ye, yuirself, that said me Saloon is a penitentiary and me and Molly was the jailers."

"Yes," the Judge said. "But an escaped prisoner, especially one with a possible murder sentence hanging over her head, needs to be in a place with a bit more security than this."

"No, she don't," Molly said. "The potion --"

"She already got around the potion once," the Judge said. "That's how she _became_ an escaped prisoner. I'm sorry, Molly... and you, too, Jessie, but I have to come down hard on this point."

"Bail," Shamus said. "What about bail?"

"She's a flight risk," the Judge said. "No bail -- or, if you insist, bail is set at $5,000. Can you pay that?"

"Ye know I can't, you lousy... Yuir Honor." Shamus had a sour look on his face.

The Judges motioned to Paul. "Deputy, please take this young lady over to the regular jail. Her trial will be at 10 tomorrow morning; here at the Saloon, if you don't mind, Shamus."

"I suppose I don't." Shamus said. He added something in Cheyenne.

"Good," the Judge said, tactfully ignoring the Cheyenne comment. "We can get this over with quickly."

"Let's go, Jess," Paul said gently. She looked to Shamus and Molly for help. Molly looked down, trying not to argue with the Judge for sending Jessie to jail. Shamus told her to go with him. Jane was standing near the door as they walked by. She couldn't say anything, but she grinned nastily at Jessie as she and Paul walked by. She held her head at an odd angle, her tongue dangling out, and raised a fist up above it, all in imitation of a person being hung.

* * * * *

Jessie looked around the cell. She hated being in jail, being at the mercy of whomever locked her in. The cell was small, only six by eight -- she'd paced it off -- with no furnishings except the cot she was sitting on and the chamber pot stowed under it. There was a window, maybe a foot square, high in the back wall above the cot. She couldn't see out, but she could see the bars in the window.

"Now, ain't you a sight for sore eyes."

Jessie jumped to her feet. "Wilma! Wilma? What are you doing here dressed up like that?" Something else _had_ changed during her brief absence.

Wilma was wearing a tight, dark red dress that showed off every curve that she had downplayed before. The buttons at the throat were opened far enough down to give a view of the tops of her breasts, pushed up and emphasized by a tight corset. Where was her camisole? And her hair, it was done in some kind of sweep around to one side, so it hung far down over her shoulder. More than that, she had some kind of red coloring -- the same color as her dress -- painted on her lips, and she was wearing enough perfume to make a hog pen smell sweet.

Wilma misunderstood the look Jessie was giving her. "Like it?" She turned slowly around, modeling the dress. "I just got it. I always judge a dress by how much the fellers want me to take it off. I don't get to wear my best ones very long at all." She giggled. Giggled? Jessie would sooner have expected the sun to rise in the west.

"Looks nice, I guess," Jessie said uncertainly. "Does Shamus make you wear clothes like that? What in Sam Hill has got into him?"

"Shamus? I don't work for him, Jessie, honey. I quit the day my sentence was up. I work for Lady Cerise over t'the--"

"Cathouse?! You're working at the... " Whatever she was doing over there, she sure didn't look like the cleaning lady. "Wilma, my Lord, what the hell happened to you?"

Wilma stiffened. "There is _nothing_ wrong in what I do. It makes a lot of men real happy, and it's just _soo_ much fun. Half the men in this town are eating out of my... my hand - to put it politely. And what are you turning purple for, anyways? You never had anything bad t'say about whores before.."

Was Wilma actually calling herself a whore like it was something to be proud of? "I-I never had one for a sister before. Wilma, you... you _hated_ being a woman. What _happened_ to you?"

Wilma smiled, remembering. "I got smart." Then she shrugged and decided to explain. I suppose most folks'll say that Shamus' potion had something to do with it. When I drank that second dose, it just changed my whole way of thinking." She paused before adding, "and, sister, I've been doing a whole lot of... thinking." She half-closed her eyes as she drew in a breath that made her bosoms look even bigger, and gently began to caress her own cleavage.

"S-second dose, you drank a second dose?" Was she hearing what she thought she was hearing?

"I did. I thought it'd change me back to a man. It changed me..." she smiled and licked her crimson lips. "I almost raped the sheriff right then and there -- the Doc, too. I was crazy for anything in pants for about three days after that; couldn't keep my legs together nohow." Another giggle. "No way I wanted to be a man again after that."

Jessie sank back onto the cot, her whole body trembling. 'And I almost did _that_ t'myself.'

Wilma shook her head, as if to make light of Jessie's woe. "When you get outa there--" she began.

"_If_ I get out!" Jessie almost shouted. "They're looking to hang me, Wilma." Wilma might be a whore, but she was still Jessie's big sister, the one she'd relied on for so long. 'If you really still are Wilma,' she added silently.

"Don't you worry about it, Jessie," her sister coaxed. "I'll take care of things. And _when_ you do get out, maybe you can get Shamus t'give you a drink of that potion, so you can come and work with me; just like old times. You'll look as pretty as a red heifer in a flowerbed once I get you gussied up in some of my French unmentionables."

"I'd sooner die," Jessie muttered under her breath.

"Sooner die', eh? Jessie Hanks, I do believe that you're actually looking down at me. That's a fine howdy-do, coming from my own sister, especially when she's locked up for murder. All I can say is that you've got a lot to learn about living, my gal. I suppose it's up to me to keep you alive long enough to learn it. Well, there's nothing new about that. I been getting you outta scraps since you was small enough to ride grasshoppers, but you and me'll have some things to settle between us once that trial is over, Jessie Hanks."

"I'm not expecting on any help from anybody as crazy as popcorn on a hot skillet," Jessie snarled.

If I don't help you, who else will? You just think about that, _sister_." Wilma turned and stomped out of the room before Jessie could utter another word.

Jessie watched Wilma walk out, swaying her hips in a way that was an open invitation to any male, even as mad as she was. 'Oh, Lordy,' Jessie thought. 'That could've... that _would've_ been me, if I'd drunk that potion.' She looked around her cell. 'And the only reason I agreed to come back _was_ to drink it. How could I have been so dumb as t'let Paul bring me...'

A sudden, terrible thought came to her. 'He knew. He must've known what that potion would do t'me. He didn't say nothing. He just let me think it'd change me back. He was probably laughing at me the whole time. Even when we -- that slimy bastard! I bet he was thinking about how much fun he'd have with me after I drank it! And I thought -- shit, who cares _what_ I thought. I'll kill him, so help me; potion or no potion, I'll kill him for tricking me like that.'

* * * * *

Jessie was thinking about Paul -- thinking of now much fun it would be to see _him_ working with Wilma after drinking two doses of potion -- when she saw the Devil himself, Paul Grant, coming into the jail office. She stood up to her full almost five-foot height of offended dignity. "Come t'gloat," she said, walking over to the bars of the cell and clutching them in tight fists.

"Gloat?" Paul asked cautiously. She might have been a man a couple months back, he thought, but now Jessie Hanks was as unpredictable as any other woman.

"Damned right, gloat. You tricked me, you bastard. You knew what that potion would do t'me, and you never said. You just smiled pretty and brought me back here. When were you gonna tell me, Paul? After I drunk it?"

"Hold on, Jessie. I never led you on. You agreed to come back here of your own free will."

"Yeah, 'cause I thought that the potion'd change me back. You knew it wouldn't, and you never let on. You just brought me back t'drink it."

"Yes, I brought you back. _That's_ what I came out there to _do_, remember."

"But you didn't have to lie to me about it."

"I never lied to you, Jess."

"You never told me the truth."

"I tried. I just didn't have any proof. Would you have believed me without it?"

"Believed you? I..."

"You came to me at the Tylers' and said that you'd come back peaceful if I promised to get you a dose of the potion. Is that right?"

"You know it is. You should've said something then."

"Oh, right. I should've said, 'Thanks for the offer, Jess, but I should tell you that the potion won't change you back; it'll make you hornier than a hoot owl for men.' Would you have believed me -- especially without any proof?"

"I... No, I probably wouldn't. But you still should've... should've said it."

"If I could've thought of a way to make you believe it, I would have. Otherwise, I'd have sounded like a damned fool."

"And I'm supposed to believe that. You didn't _want_ to tell me. You got any other secrets you ain't telling?"

"Just one." He was mad now.

"Yeah, what? Or don't you want to tell anybody that secret either?"

"_You_ don't want me to tell it."

"Like hell. What secret would I be afraid of?"

"That you robbed a stage coach while you were out on the trail. You may not have gotten anything, but you _did_ commit robbery."

Jessie's heart sank. "You wouldn't... if that came out at my trial..."

"They'd throw away the key, wouldn't they?" He smiled. And hated himself for it.

Jessie sank back onto the cot. "No... please, don't say anything." If that crazy old coot of a judge didn't hang her, he might make her take another shot of the potion and farm her out to Lady Cerise.

"I haven't said anything so far, Jessie, but then I thought you deserved a second chance. Now, I'm not so sure. I guess we've _both_ got something to think about, don't we." He turned and walked out of the office.

* * * * *

"Hola, señorita."

Jessie looked up to see a little boy, a Mexican, maybe six years old, staring at her through the bars of the cell. "Who the he... who're you?"

"Ernesto, señorita, Ernesto Sanchez." He pointed to a small girl holding a rag doll. This is Lupe." The girl made a face. "And her doll, Inez."

"Well, what do you want, Ernesto?"

"Nothing, señorita. Mama brought me and Lupe -- she's my sister -- with her. She brought you some supper."

Something sounded familiar to Jessie. "Ernesto... Lupe... You're Maggie's kids, ain't you?"

"Si, they are mine," Maggie called out. Jessie walked over to the bars and looked around. Maggie was unpacking a small picnic basket over on the sheriff's desk. "They come to live with me about two weeks ago."

"I'll bet there's a story in that," Jessie said. What hadn't happened while she was on the run? Coming back to Eerie had been like falling into a new world, like in that "Alice in Wonderland" story the girls in New Orleans had talked about.

"There is a story, but first, you eat." Maggie walked into sight carrying a small tray. A plate with roast beef and boiled red potatoes sat on it. A second plate had a generous slice of apple pie. "Shamus and Molly sent it over." There was a space about six inches between the cell door and the floor, and Maggie slid the tray through.

Jessie put the tray on the cot and turned to take the tall cup of coffee that Maggie handed her between the bars. "It smells good, Maggie. Thanks. Y'know, I thought about your cooking while I was on the trail."

"I am flattered. I must go now to cook for my restaurant. I am busy, but I wanted to bring the food over myself. I will be back in the morning with breakfast. We can talk more then."

"That'll be the only thing I have to look forward to tomorrow. I guess I better get used to getting my meals between bars. If I live t'get many more meals."

"Do not talk like that. You will be out... it will be over very soon."

"Not the best choice of words to a woman about to hang, Maggie."

"I... No, that will not happen. You will see." She looked around. "Ernesto, get the basket. We must get back to the restaurant. We can talk more in the morning. Goodbye, Jessie." She bustled out with the children, who waved at Jessie as they walked out.

* * * * *

A tall, slender man Jessie didn't recognize came over to the cell. "Excuse me, Miss Hanks..."

Jessie sat forward on the cot and scowled. She didn't like being visited by strangers as if she were a bear in a cage. "Who are you, and what do you want?"

"I'm Milt Quinlan, Miss Hanks. I... ah... defended Phil Trumbell when he... ah... shot at your sister." He pushed his glasses back on his nose. "Oddly enough, Miss Hanks, your sister, that is, has hired me to defend you tomorrow."

"Well, I'll be. I guess she meant it when she said she'd try to help. Okay, Mr. Quinlan, what've you got in mind."

"First off. Tell me what happened that night in Toby Hess' cabin. Tell me everything; don't skip on the tiniest detail. I'll decide if it's _important_ or not." He pulled up a chair as close to the cell as he could and took out a notebook and pen.

Jessie started with "...and these bags went over our heads." She didn't stop until she got to "...and he just laid there, not moving, blood coming out the back of his head."

"And what did you do then?"

"I... I ran. I didn't want t'go back to Eerie, and, all of a sudden, it come to me that I didn't have to. The potion -- you know about how the potion works?" Quinlan nodded. "It wasn't stopping me from running 'cause I was already out of Eerie. I grabbed some of Toby's stuff -- took his clothes 'cause he ripped mine -- and... and... I took his horse..." She had a sudden, terrible thought. "Th-they ain't gonna try me as a horse thief, are they? That's a... a hanging offense, too." Murder _and_ horse stealing, Jessie felt sick. They really had her by the short and curlies.

Quinlan shook his head. "I don't think so. The Judge told me that he's trying you for involuntary manslaughter -- that means saying that you _accidentally_ killed Toby -- and flight to avoid prosecution for it. No one's mentioned adding anything else."

"But they... they could add horse thieving tomorrow, c-couldn't they?" Jane would be just the one to bring up the horse thieving, if she thought of it.

"They could, but it's not likely." He tried to change the subject. "How about you tell me what happened on the trail, anything that might be of interest to the jury."

"Anything?"

"Anything, good or bad -- though good is better. For instance, how did Paul Grant catch up with you?"

"We was -- these two farm women and me got caught by some Commancheros. They was on their way back t'Mexico with us. Paul showed up with a posse of farmers. There was a shoot-out. Paul and his side won. That's when he caught me."

"What were you doing during this shoot-out?"

"During the shoot-out, one of the women froze like a jackrabbit staring at a rattler. She was in a crossfire. I knocked her down to save her fool life, even took a bullet doing it."

"That's good -- not that you were wounded, of course, but that you saved that other woman's life. Did anyone see it happen?"

"Paul did, I think, and even if he didn't, I got a scar t'prove it happened."

"If you don't mind, I'll ask Doc Upshaw to take a look at that scar." Jessie shrugged. "Now is there anything else that happened, anything that could be used for or against you tomorrow?"

'The stage,' Jessie thought. 'Can I tell him? Should I?'

Quinlan saw the fear on her face. "What is it, Jessie," he said. "I'm your lawyer; you have to trust me."

Jessie looked down. "I-I can't. It was trusting somebody else that got me into this mess. I can't trust somebody else t'get me out. I just can't."

"I wish you would reconsider, but I won't push." He closed the notepad and stood up. "Think about it. I'll see you again in the morning. Have a good night' sleep if you can."

* * * * *

"Jessie," Paul said as he came into the jail, "the Doc's here to see you."

"What's he need _you_ here for, Mr. Grant?"

The Doc walked in, along with a short woman that Jessie thought looked familiar. "I thought you might want some privacy for the examination Milt Quinlan asked me to give you, Jessie," Doc said. "Paul said that we could use the storeroom here. Mrs. Lonnigan here -- you may remember her from when you came to my office -- anyway, she's here to protect your modesty."

"I get to let you out of your cell, Jess -- Miz Hanks," Paul said. He took a set of keys out of the desk and walked over to Jessie's cell. "I stand guard while you're in with them. Then I put you _back_ in your cell. That satisfy your curiosity?"

The lock clicked and the door swung open. "This way, please." He took Jessie by the arm and led her over to a door in the corner of the office. He unlocked the storeroom door and held it while the three others went in. Then he closed it and sat down at the sheriff's desk.

* * * * *

"Where exactly is this scar you told Milt Quinlan about?" the Doc asked.

"Right here." Jessie pointed to a spot halfway down her right side. "I got a little too close to a bullet."

"Please remove your blouse and corset, then, and unbutton or loosen your camisole, Jessie," Doc said. "If you'd like, I'll turn away."

Jessie started working at the buttons of her blouse. "Why bother, Doc? You've seen it all before." She took off her blouse and laid it on the bed... Paul's bed. Why did the thought of whose bed it was make her fingers tremble as she started to unhook her corset?

* * * * *

Paul heard the storeroom door open. He turned in his chair to see Doc and Mrs. Lonnigan come out. "We're leaving now," Doc said.

"Jessie will be out in a few minutes," Mrs. Lonnigan said. "She decided that she doesn't want to sleep in her petticoat and corset. She'll leave them in your room, if you don't mind. Miss Sanchez will be bringing over some fresh clothes for her when she brings breakfast."

Paul shrugged. "No problem. After all, where can she go?"

"That's just what _she's_ been wondering," Mrs. Lonnigan said, an odd smile on her face. "Have a good evening." She took the Doc's arm, and the pair left the jail.

Paul waited about five minutes before he knocked on the storeroom door. "You decent, Jessie?"

"No," came her voice through the door, "but I'm dressed. C'mon in." She sounded sad.

Jessie was sitting on the edge of Paul's bed, her hands in her lap, when he entered. "You mind if we talk a bit before I go back to my cell?"

Paul leaned back against the cabinet he used as a dresser. "I guess not. What did you want to talk about?"

Jessie looked up at him. She was biting her lower lip. "You... you gonna tell them about that stage I robbed... I tried t'rob?"

He shook his head. "No. Wells Fargo doesn't want anybody to know their stage got stopped so easily."

"Easily! Well, I like that."

"Calm down, Jess. You stopped the stage, but you didn't get away with anything, did you? They're not happy, but making a fuss would be embarrassing. If they don't want anybody to know, why should I make trouble for them -- or you?"

"Thanks, I guess." No way was she going to tell him about the cameo she _had_ taken. Besides, Hanna had it now. "Anyway, it's one less thing to hang for."

"Jessie, you aren't going to hang. Why don't you believe me?"

"I don't know. Maybe 'cause I'm still gonna be tried for murder - - or something like it -- tomorrow, or maybe it's just because you been so _honest_ about everything else."

"You're still mad about the potion, aren't you?"

"Yes... yes, I am. You shouldn't have lied about it."

"I didn't lie. I didn't say any more about it because I knew you wouldn't believe me."

She shook her head. "I probably wouldn't, not when I _knew_ that it would change me back. There's no denying I can be mule stubborn when I've a mind to."

"You sure can," he said with a smile, "but I think you're worth it. I can see why you'd think what you did about the potion, too, 'hair of the dog that bit you' and all that."

"Thanks. I guess I was the one who was lying, lying to myself. " She sighed. "But that hope's gone now. I'm gonna be... be like this forever. It's a hell of a price to pay for a little robbing and gunfighting. What kind of life can I live like this? I never knew a woman on her own who wasn't a school teacher or a whore, and the one's practically as bad as the other. I'm not even good at poker, like Bridget. Maybe... maybe it'd be better to let them hang me."

"Don't talk like that. You got a lot to live for."

"Not that I can see." She sighed again and stood up. "You might as well take me back to my cell."

"Not that you can see, eh," Paul said. He took a step towards her. "I thought you were starting to see some of the advantages of being a woman."

She frowned up at him, then her expression turned wry. "Just what are you suggesting?" She asked.

He eased his arms around behind her. She blinked and looked unsure, but Paul was sure enough for both of them. He drew her in closer, so close that the length of their bodies touched. She gasped slightly in surprise or protest but didn't struggle. Encouraged, he moved his lips toward hers. Jessie's eyes flashed, as if she was going to be stubborn. Her lips had parted slightly, as if to begin a protest, but now they just hovered there as an invitation. It was an invitation Paul was more than ready to accept. Their mouths met an instant later, and the kiss became a very intense one.

Too intense. It panicked Jessie, and she reacted instinctively, putting her arms up to his chest to push him away. This time he wouldn't let himself be pushed away. He realized that she wasn't pushing very hard, so he eased up to let both of them draw fresh breaths for another go. Paul could tell he was affecting her from the tremors of excitement he felt course through her slim, soft body. Suddenly he wasn't just kissing her; she was kissing him back. Her arms moved up and around his neck as she moaned, half in woe and half in need

By the time they broke off, Jessie knew again that same warm glow she'd felt when they had kissed out on the trail. 'Mmm, maybe there _is_ something t'being a female,' she admitted.

'This is crazy,' she thought as she tried to understand all the sensations that Paul's embrace evoked. She dimly realized that if she were going to be a woman from now on, she wouldn't have to be ashamed about kissing a man. But what did it mean to be a woman? What would Sara Fuller have wanted to do at a moment like that?

She answered her own question and smiled remembering the nights she had spent as Jesse, with Sarah naked by his side. She gave a murmur of pleasure as Paul drew her in even tighter, and she again offered her lips to him. Their hands roamed over each other's fully-clad body.

Jessie felt the warmth growing inside her, hottest in her breasts and her loins. Her nipples were pushing out against the cotton of her camisole, so hard that they almost hurt. Her groin felt almost hot; it was getting moist, too. When their lips parted, Jessie gathered enough breath to speak.

"Last time, we... we didn't have so much clothes on."

"Yeah, that was nice," Paul whispered hoarsely. His expression told her what he wanted, but he was leaving it up to her.

Jessie's nervous fingers began to unbutton Paul's shirt. She wasn't sure why she was doing this. It was like she needed to prove to herself that there was something good to being a woman. Some part of her needed to do this before she died.

Paul drew in a hard breath between his clenched teeth and began to work on the buttons on OF her blouse. In moments, the two garments were on the floor. Jessie looked down, not able to meet his eyes, her smile tight and uneasy, her cheeks flushed. The sight of Paul's bare chest was making her feel warmer than ever She liked the feeling and wanted it to grow even stronger.

Jessie moaned when Paul's fingers began to caress her breasts through the tight fabric of her camisole. The sensation excited her and she arched her back, deliberately pushing them into his hungrily grasping hands. Then she kissed him again, even harder than before, sending a message with every move of her body to encourage him to be bold.

One of his hands went to her hip, and, in the next instant, he was fumbling at the buttons that cinched her skirt at her waist. She felt them give way, and she separated herself from him just enough to let the skirt slide down her legs to the floor. She stepped out of the gingham and kicked it away.

Jessie wanted to do the same to his pants, but hesitated, tensing. There only one thing a woman wanted when she undid a man's pants. Did she want that? What she knew was that she didn't want to hang without knowing something more about life. Just what was it about being with a man that gals like Sarah had liked so much?

'Treat you like a grown woman.' Paul's words rang in her head. He'd shown her some of what that meant already. She was going to be a 'grown woman' for however long -- or short -- the rest of her life would be. She _had_ to know what it _really_ meant, and there was only one way to find out.

When they finally broke the kiss, she _was_ smiling shakily. "You remember how... on the trail... I wouldn't..."

"I remember." He looked down into her face keenly, trying not to scare her off by betraying too much hope and eagerness. "You-you said that you weren't ready to go that far."

She took his hand, and, not realizing it, squeezed with all her strength. "Maybe I don't have so much time that I can be careful about it." Her trembling fingers reached for the buttons on Paul's pants.

'You're out of your mind, Jessie told herself, but her hands didn't let go of Paul's trousers.

Once they were undone, she knelt to pull them down past his hips. There was a bulge -- it seemed big as a mountain to her -- in Paul's drawers. A chill ran down her spine at the sight of it, but she felt her inner heat growing into a consuming hunger, like a fire that couldn't wait to devour everything before it. She let go of his pants and stood up quickly. "You'll have t'take them the rest of the way off by yourself."

Paul seemed more concerned with what she was wearing than with his own clothes. He unbuttoned her camisole and lightly touched her bare breast, a tender, round globe that was everything that the fullness of her garments had promised. A finger played with her nipple, a hard little bud within a ringlet of pinkish brown. Jessie shuddered at the tickling, while Paul, still keeping his teasing finger on her areola, kissed her gently on the mouth. Then he bent his knees in order to work his way down her, leaving a trail of kisses and gentle love bites down to breasts already aching with arousal.

Jessie felt the energy building in her body. Her legs had gone weak. When Paul's lips touched her other nipple, she felt a surge of pleasure shoot through her entire body. She moaned and clawed at his back to keep from falling over.

Paul swept her up into his arms and carefully lowered her onto his bed. He managed to struggle out of his own boots and pants even while concentrating on the girl in his bunk. While Jessie's lay quivering, the blanket clutched in her small fists and her eyes closed, he managed to remove her buttoned shoes with their sharp heels. The blanket that Jessie was clenching so tensely had been loaned from Amy, the sheriff's wife,. He didn't want it ripped by what he hoped this was building to. Still, he kept asking himself, did Jessie Hanks, the outlaw, really want him, and why did he want her so much?

Jessie looked up at him through half-closed eyes as he climbed onto the bed beside her. "F-fancy meeting you here," she said in way of a nervous joke. She rolled onto her side and kissed him. She squirmed closer, her bare breasts pushed up against him. His chest hair tickled her sensitive nipples.

"It gets even fancier," he said, the words coming out of his tight chest as a rumble. He put his arm about her and pulled her closer. His other arm slid down along her thigh. He just couldn't get enough of the feel of her.

She felt his maleness, warm through his drawers, pushing up against her body. "Does it now?" She asked, reaching down and sliding a fingernail against the cotton fabric that covered his hardness. The straining organ felt so strangely alive. She had touched her own member when she'd had one, but doing so never made her feel the whole-body craving she felt now. The contact sent prickles up her arm all the way up to her shoulder.

Her touch tickled. "You little... Well, I know how to give back what I get." Paul's fingers found and began to work on the ribbon that held her modest drawers to her waist. The knot came loose with a simple tug. "Lift your hips, please - if you're not afraid, that is." She arched her back at once, without any of the fear she felt translating itself into resistance. When her drawers passed her knees, she instinctively moved her legs to assist their departure.

When they were gathered at her ankles, she let Paul pluck them off and toss them away. Another tremble ran through her. Already she had learned that she liked being undressed by him. Now almost completely naked, she lay back on the bed, waiting, her heart beating like the wings of a wild thrush. Jessie knew all about what was about to happen, but she was still dazed by the idea that this time it was going to be done _to_ her, and not _by_ her.

'You can still say no,' she thought. Should she? Even in her present state of mind, she knew that whatever her life was at the present moment, it was going to be a lot different from here on. This was all happening so fast. Should she stop it or let it happen? How could she ever think of herself as a man after this? If only Paul wasn't so aggressive - so unrelentingly male. She suddenly felt Paul rolling over to cover HER. He was using his knees and his elbows to take most of the weight, but was still pinning her to the bed. She felt trapped. 'Oh Lord,' she thought.

Paul saw the panic in her eyes. "Shhh," he whispered, as if to calm a skittish horse. He lowered himself down and kissed her gently on the forehead. "It's all right, Jess. There's nothing to be afraid of. If you want me as much as I want you, it's going to be good." He took her hands in his and kissed her again. Jessie felt safe, protected. Paul wasn't trapping her. He was holding her hand, helping her along a path she didn't know.

She felt his fingers between her thighs, probing her, encouraging her juices to come, preparing her for a rite of passage into true womanhood. He was doing to her what Jesse Hanks had done to many girls before this. But, Lord, did it always feel so good for the girl? Every nerve in her body seemed to sing out with novel sensations. His hand came away for a moment. She regretted its absence, but it was back again an instant later, escorting his maleness to the point of entry. If he had hesitated then, she might have lost her nerve, but before she could react, she felt him entering her. She gasped, almost shouted in panic, but refused to do so. Pleasant or unpleasant, she wanted to know what it would be like, what true womanhood would be like. Paul sensed the tumult inside his lover just then and took her hands in his to steady her.

With an effort, Jessie calmed slightly, and then Paul kissed her again, hard. Hard, too, was the careful press of his lean hips that steadily advanced his greatness into her. She could feel him sliding ever deeper inside her. Jesse had sometimes wondered if putting a girl to use hurt her. What Paul was doing did hurt slightly, but behind the hurt was a pleasure beyond anything she'd ever experienced -- not even when she'd been Jesse living those few weeks in the New Orleans brothel and spending most of his days with the "ladies" of the House. If those girls were anything like her, if she had been anything like Paul, she couldn't have done any harm at all.

Paul had begun a back and forth motion, and the friction he generated against her was driving her close to insanity. Jessie moaned and bucked. Her back arched like a bow; her arms were straight, clutching the coverlets, her every muscle tense. Suddenly her hands shifted and tightened around Paul's fingers. Her legs wrapped around his waist to pull him closer, and even deeper into her. If this was the only time she'd get to experience being a woman with a man, she wanted a memory that would still be with her when the flames of hell took her. Each wave of pleasure that coursed through her seemed to lead to another. Paul did not let himself go; he was holding himself back to make Jessie's pleasure last as long as possible. And she was grateful.

Then she heard Paul grunt. His body stiffened, and she felt him release his essence into her. The warm surge set her off yet again.

The former vigor of his lovemaking swiftly yielded to quiescence as the surges deep inside her slowed and ceased. She still held him close. After a while, she felt him soften. He let go of her hands and carefully rolled away. He continued looking at her, almost as if he still couldn't quite believe that she was there with him. "You were wonderful, Jess," he murmured at last. She returned an uneasy but grateful, sated smile.

Wriggling closer once more, he kissed her shoulder and began to caress her gently, to calm and relax her. It was like the way you brushed a horse after a hard run to help it cool down. Jessie felt her passion cool until she lay besides him savoring the delightful afterglow. Their hands clenched and held tight. They kissed one last time before they both drifted off to sleep.

* * * * *

 

Chapter 12 -- "The Trial of Jessie Hanks"

"Jess, wake up."

Jessie blinked and opened her eyes. "Wha... it's still half dark." She realized that she was under a blanket. She was naked, her body right up close next to Paul, and he was as naked as she. Her nipples tightened, and she began to get that same warm feeling she'd had the night before. "You got some reason for waking me up so early?" Her voice sounded husky, eager, even to her own ears.

"I guess you've decided that there's something to being a woman after all."

"Mmm, let's just say that you made a hard... argument t'beat. If we could spend the rest of our lives in bed like this, maybe I wouldn't mind it so much." Her finger trailed down across his stomach towards his manhood.

He was playing with her nipple, now. "Sounds nice, but we'd better get out of bed before daybreak, unless you want everybody to know what we've been doing."

His words hit her like the cold water Molly used on her in the baths. "No, I wouldn't want that. I-I mean not after what I said to Wilma and all." Besides, she didn't want everybody at her trial looking at her and smirking.

"Then you best get some clothes on and get into that cell. The cat will be out of the bag if Maggie and her kids find you in here with me."

Jessie threw back the blanket and quickly scrambled out of bed. Paul watched her walking around the room, bending over to pick up clothes. The early morning light silhouetted her body. He felt himself stiffen at the sight.

She dressed slowly, turning to smile at him as she slid her drawers up over her hips and retied the ribbon that held them in place. As she buttoned her camisole, she looked down, her eyes half closed. 'She's posing for me,' Paul realized and propped himself up on one side to watch the show. 'Wonder if she knows that she's doing it. He decided that she did when he heard her moan softly as she adjusted her still sensitive breasts in her corset.

Paul was sorry now that they'd spent so much of the night asleep, sorrier still that living in this jail was like living in a fishbowl.

She was almost dressed by the time he stopped wallowing regret and sat up. "I don't want to be walking around naked, either," he said picking up his own drawers and stepping into them. It was what he normally slept in.

Jessie had enjoyed the warmth she'd felt flowing through her body as she teased him while she dressed. Now that she saw the results as he struggled to get his drawers over his erect manhood, she was sorry about the need to go back to her cell.

He walked her back to the cell holding her hand, both of them looking over their shoulders at the door, least someone step in too soon. She turned to face Paul as they reached the cell. "This ain't normally the way you say g'night to a gal, I hope."

"It ain't the way I say 'good morning' to her either. Here's the way I do both." he put his arms around her, pulling her close, and then kissed her, deeply, needfully." Although startled by his swift assault on her mouth, she put her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his. How good it felt to have her breasts mashed against his firm, flat chest, to have their loins and thighs flush.

"Sweet dreams," she said in a breathy voice once they had broken off the kiss. She stroked his bristly cheek as she walked past him into the cell. He sighed as he closed the door behind her, making sure that the lock caught. The clang seemed to make everything final.

Jessie blew him a kiss and settled down onto the cot. 'Might as well try and get some sleep,' she thought as she watched him walk back to the storeroom.

* * * * *

Jessie woke up to the smell of coffee. She yawned and sat up. Maggie was setting up breakfast at the sheriff's desk. "Morning, Maggie."

"Good morning, sleepy head," Maggie said. "Paul let me in. He is getting dressed. He said I should let you out when the breakfast is ready." She walked over and unlocked the cell. "You can eat now and change later." She pointed to a pile of clothes atop a wooden filing cabinet against the office wall.

"Thanks, Maggie," Jessie said. "For the clothes and the breakfast." She took a long drink of coffee. It was hot and strong, just the way she liked it. She felt the warmth of it in her stomach.

"Is nothing. You should look nice when you go before the Judge." She refilled Jessie's coffee cup and handed it back to her. "Now come, sit, and have some food." She put a plate with two biscuits and some small sausages on the desk near where Jessie was standing.

Jessie sat down and reached for a fork. She speared a sausage and took a bite. "So tell me, Maggie, how'd your kids get here?"

"Shamus was afraid that I would leave town after my jail time was over. The restaurant was making a lot of money, and he did not wish that to stop. He and Ramon -- you remember Ramon deAguilar... from Silvermans' store?" Jessie nodded, remembering, too, how Ramon acted around Maggie. "They brought Ernesto and Lupe here, to Eerie. Then Shamus fixed it for me to buy a house for us to live in."

Jessie finished the sausage, washing it down with more coffee. "That's nice. You got your kids here with you, and you got a place where you and Ramon can have a little private _fun_."

"Jessie! How can you say such a thing?" She quickly crossed herself. "Ramon and I are not married. I-I cannot be with him like that, especially not with my children living here. That... such a thing is not something a proper woman would do. I... excuse me, but I would be no better than your sister to have... unblessed relations with a man."

Jessie almost choked on the coffee. Was that true? Was she no better than her whore of a sister? Damn! She didn't take money for doing it, but did that make that much of a difference? How different were the two of them now, actually? She'd have to think about that. Aloud, she said, "Maggie, I'm sorry. I-I was just making a joke, teasing you. I guess I'm... I'm just a little jealous how things are working out so well for you."

Maggie nodded. "You are nervous about the trial." She refilled Jessie's coffee. "You will see. It will work out good for you, too."

"That's what I've told her." Paul walked out of the storeroom. He was tucking a clean shirt into a different pair of pants from what he had worn the day before. "How many times do we have to say it, before you believe it, Jess... Jessie?"

"I can't count that high," Jessie said. She broke the biscuit and used a piece to soak up some of the gravy from the sausages. "I'll believe it when I hear the Judge say it, I guess."

* * * * *

Milt Quinlan came by just as they were finishing breakfast. "I asked the Judge again this morning," he said, turning a chair around and sitting down. "All you're facing in court today is that charge of involuntary manslaughter I told you about and two counts of flight --"

"Flight?" Jessie asked, "What the hell is that?"

"Flight to avoid prosecution, it means running away so you won't get caught."

"I only ran away once."

"One count is because you were already serving time, and you didn't come back to finish your sentence. The other is running away after killing... so you wouldn't get punished for Toby's death."

"They can do that, count one thing I done twice?" Jessie asked.

"Looks like it," Paul said, "but I still wouldn't worry about it, Jessie."

"Of course you wouldn't," Jessie said wryly. "You ain't the one on trial."

"You'll be fine, Jessie." Paul put his hand on hers. "You'll see."

Milt's brow furrowed when he noticed the gesture, but he quickly resumed a neutral expression. The two of them had been on the trail alone for a long time. With Laura married and Wilma a whore, nothing that Jessie did should surprise him. And, after all, from Paul's standpoint, there weren't all that many eligible women in this part of the West.

"Of course, she will," Milt said. "But now, Jessie, there was something that you were worried about telling me yesterday. Do you want to talk about it now? We can go in the storeroom, if you want to talk in private."

Jessie looked at Paul. "Is there anything else I need to tell Milt about?" Paul shook his head. "No, I guess there isn't," Jessie said, a smile of relief and gratitude and, maybe, something more on her face. "Thanks, anyway, Milt."

Milt observed this new byplay with even more interest. What exactly were those two agreeing to conceal? He didn't care, just so long as it didn't come out at the trial and spoil his defense.

"You're welcome, I suppose," the lawyer said belatedly as he stood up. "I see that you have some fresh clothes. You should change and be over at the Saloon as quickly as you can."

"I'll be there," Jessie said.

"I'll leave you in Paul's hands, then," Milt said with peculiar emphasis, as he headed out the jailhouse door. "See you at the Saloon."

* * * * *

Jane was waiting for Milt at the Saloon. "You still gonna do it? Still gonna defend that murderer?"

Milt sighed. "I told you I was, Jane. Wilma hired me as her lawyer, and I intend to defend Jessie to the best of my ability."

"But she killed Toby," Jane whined. "She oughta hang for it. You got no business trying t'help her, especially since you're _my_ lawyer."

"Jane, I'm the lawyer for anyone who hires me. That's what I do."

"Then maybe _I_ don't want to be hiring you any more." She stormed away.

Milt shook his head as he watched her go. With those barflies chasing after her, Jane needed somebody to watch out for her. He was a bit perplexed to realize how much he enjoyed the job.

* * * * *

The Judge looked at his pocket watch, 10 AM. He nodded to Sheriff Dan Talbot.

"Oyay, oyay," Dan yelled over the Saloon noise, "the court of the Honorable Parnassas C. Humphreys is now in session... ah, G-d save this court and the... ah, United States of America."

The Judge pounded his gavel on the table he was using, and the room quieted. "Be seated," he said. The crowd scrambled for what chairs there were.

The Judge continued. "The case today is the Territory of Arizona versus Jessie Hanks. The charges are involuntary manslaughter -- that means that Jessie, Miss Hanks, killed Toby Hess without meaning to -- and two counts of flight to escape prosecution. Before anybody asks, one count is for running away instead of coming back to finish her sentence here in the Saloon. The other is for running because of Toby being dead. You men on the jury understand all that?"

Twelve men, selected by lot as they came in to the Saloon, were seated at two nearby tables. Hans Euler was the one they had picked for their foreman. "I t'ink we do, Judge."

"Good," said the Judge. "Miss Hanks, how do you plead?"

Milt stood and motioned for Jessie to stand as well. "Milt Quinlan for the defense, Your Honor. We plead 'Not Guilty' to all charges."

"So noted," the Judge said. He motioned for them to sit down. "Call your first witness, counselor."

"Laura Meeham," Milt said. "Excuse me, Laura Caulder." Dan repeated the name.

"Laura _Caulder_," Jessie whispered. "What do you mean by that?"

"She and Arsenio just got married," Milt whispered back, "now, shush." He put a finger to Jessie's lips. By now, Laura had sworn in Laura, and she was sitting in a chair next to the Judge's table.

"Before we start," Milt said, standing "I want to congratulate you and your husband on your marriage and wish you every happiness for your future together."

"Thank you," Laura said, smiling uneasily, "but Arsenio's not here. He's home --"

"Restin' up," somebody yelled. The crowd roared with laughter.

Laura blushed. "That... that's not so. He's trying to catch up on his business. He's a very hard worker."

"You'd be the one to know," another voice yelled. Jessie thought that it sounded like Wilma. Again, there was considerable laughter.

"That will be _enough_," the Judge said, pounding his gavel on the table. "Start asking your questions, Milt. The next person to interrupt you will be guilty of contempt of court." He furrowed his eyebrows. "Is that understood?"

The crowd stopped laughing. "Thank you, Your Honor," Milt said. "Mrs. Caulder, would you please describe the abduction of you and Miz Hanks on the night of Saturday, September 9?"

Laura told how she and Jessie had gone outside during a break in the dance for some fresh air. "We heard a funny noise in the alley, and somebody said, 'Look at that.' When we went and looked, they threw sacks over our heads and tossed us in their wagon." She went on to tell what Jake had tried to do to her, and, finally, she said, "Jake told me that Jessie was over at Toby's cabin."

"That's hearsay," the Judge interrupted. "That mean that Laura doesn't know if it's true or not. All she knows is that Jake said it to her. You men on the jury shouldn't take what she just said into account when you're deciding the facts of the case."

Milt shrugged. "Thank you, Your Honor. I think we're done, Laura. You can step down for now, but don't go home yet." Laura took a seat next to Bridget.

"Your Honor," Milt said, not liking what he had to do. "I call Jane Steinmetz as my next witness." Dan repeated Jane's name.

"I don't want to," Jane yelled from across the room. "I ain't saying anything to help Jessie."

"You're not helping anyone," the Judge said sternly. "You're telling the truth. Now get up here before I have the sheriff come and get you."

"Go up there," Shamus ordered. Jane growled under her breath, but she had to obey him.

After Jane was sworn in, Milt said, "I don't think I have to point out that Miss Steinmetz is a hostile witness; that means she doesn't like Jessie." He took a breath. "Now Jane, did you and Toby take Jessie to his cabin before you brought Laura to your own place?"

"Yeah," Jane said angrily. "We thought they liked us. That's why Toby and me took 'em. Even if she didn't like Toby, that's no reason t'kill him, like she done, Judge. You gotta make her pay for that."

After Jane stepped down, Milt called his client to the stand to testify in her own behalf.

Squirming nervously, Jessie told what happened with Toby. Milt showed the court her torn blouse and camisole for evidence. Then the Doc testified about what he found when he examined Toby's body. Cause of death was hitting that stone in the fireplace, and, "yes," he said. "It looked like somebody had kneed or kicked Toby in the balls while he was still alive."

"Why'd you run?" Milt asked Jessie, after he put her back on the witness stand.

"Why? 'Cause I'm Jessie Hanks. Ain't nobody gonna listen to my side of it. They'd... they'd string me up with Toby's own rope."

"You don't have a very good opinion of the people of this town," the Judge said.

"They ain't got a very good one of me, Judge, even if maybe that's -is- my fault... just a little."

"Your Honor," Milt said after Jessie was done, "I'd like to introduce evidence of Miss Hanks' heroic behavior while she was on the... after she left Toby Hess' cabin. I call Paul Grant --"

"That's not pertinent to the crimes she's accused of," the Judge said. "Paul, you can testify to her character during the sentencing, if she's found guilty of anything."

The jury had no questions. The Judge sent them upstairs to deliberate in one of Shamus' rooms. They came back down after about twenty minutes. "How do you find?" the Judge asked.

Hans Euler stood up and opened a small folded sheet of paper. "We say that she manslaughtered Toby in self-defense, Judge. Any gal's got the right to try and stop a man what wants to rape her. She was right to run, too. We mighta done something like that if we was as scared as she was." He sat down nervously.

"What about the second count -- about not coming back to finish her sentence?"

Hans stood back up. "She was wrong there, Judge. You say she gotta work her for two months, that's what she gotta do."

"All right, Paul," the Judge said. "Jessie is guilty of one charge of flight. Say your mind before I pass sentence."

Paul walked over to the witness chair, and Dan swore him in. He told what he'd seen. Then he added, "Your Honor, punishment is supposed to make a guilty person into somebody better. The Jesse Hanks that rode into Eerie two months ago would've never risked his life for somebody the way Jessie did in that gunfight near the border. She took a bullet for Piety Tyler -- the Doc saw the scar. I know that she did something wrong, not coming back, but she did something very right, too. I'm proud of... I think that should count. It should count a whole lot."

The Judge motioned for Jessie and Milt to stand. "Jessie Hanks, you've been found guilty of flight to avoid prosecution, a very serious offense. I could send you to the territorial penitentiary for up to five years. In keeping with precedent, I could, instead, order you to drink another dose of Shamus' potion." Jessie moaned and started to sink into her chair until Milt caught her.

"But I agree with Paul," the Judge said. "Either you never were as bad as you acted around folks, or else you have changed and very much for the better. You will finish the ten days of your original sentence and serve one additional month at the Eerie Special Penitentiary. Just don't act like a damned jackrabbit anymore, running off the way you did, no matter what the reason, or next time your sentence will be a great deal harder." He looked around the room. "I thank the jury for its work. If there is no other business..." he pounded the gavel. "...court is now adjourned."

Jessie sat in her chair, smiling in relief. "That's... that's it? One month?"

"That's all, Jessie," Milt said, shaking her hand. "Congratulations. Oh, and I suggest that you thank Paul for his strong testimony."

"You made it, Jessie," Paul said, walking over. "I told you it'd --"

Jessie interrupted Paul by throwing her arms around him and kissing him. She ended the kiss a moment later when she sensed Paul's embarrassed stiffness as the room broke into laughter and applause. "I'll thank you later," she said in a husky voice. Then she looked at the crowd of men gathering around her and winked at Paul. Relief made her feel playful. "Unless one of these fine gentlemen makes me a better offer."

 

The End

  

  

  

*********************************************
© 2003 by Ellie Dauber. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, and compilation design) may be printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without the express written consent of StorySite and the copyright holder.