Jessie Hanks, Outlaw Queen free porn video

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 (c) 2003 Chapter 1 -- "Riders in the Night" "One... Two... Three!" Jessie Hanks yelled, as she swung the saddle back and forth, then upward. This time, it worked. The heavy saddle went over the top of the tethered horse, settling unevenly on the blanket on its back. "Finally!" she said, tugging at the blanket to straighten it. She quickly reached down and buckled the cinches around the horse's trunk fore and aft, pulling them as tightly as she could. She stood back and puffed. Hell, it had taken her four tries to get the damned thing on the horse; she hadn't had so much trouble with a saddle since she was twelve. The horse, a brown gelding that Jessie was starting to call "Useless", snorted, as the cinches tightened. Luckily he didn't move very much because the pen was too narrow. She looked at her slender arms and spat. Jesse Hanks had been able to saddle a horse by himself since he was ten. Now, as Jessie Hanks, a girl of about eighteen, she'd had to work hard just to lift the forty-pound saddle off the shed wall and onto the horse. Damn and she hadn't even put the saddlebags on it yet. Jessie decided to put the saddlebags on empty and load them afterwards, so she just tied them to the saddle. "C'mon, Useless," she said, as she picked up the oil lamp that she'd used for light. She opened the stall and used the bridal and reins to lead the horse back to Toby's cabin. She tied the reins to a post and went inside. "Now I'm sorry you got your head bashed in," she said as she looked down at Toby Hess' body on the floor. I could have used some help with that saddle. I never thought you was good for anything more'n hard labor, you old bastard." She looked down at the body and shook her head. "With a rep like mine, they'll never believe it was self-defense. I'll hang for sure. Hell, they might just string me up and not even wait for a trial. I figure my only chance is to put as many miles as I can between me and that town." Deciding she didn't like looking at him, she took the dusty canvas that lay against the wall and spread it over the corpse. "Anyhow, I'm sick and tired of being a damned slave at that Saloon." "Much fun as it is talking to you, it ain't helping me get packed and get outta here. You'll smell as bad as you look, pretty soon, but that's the undertaker's problem." She looked around the cluttered, unkempt cabin. Most of what she wanted to take was already piled on the table. Now she sorted the goods into two heaps. The pistol -- and why the hell didn't the man have a holster for it, anyway? -- rifle, bullets for them both, a flint and steel fire starter kit, a small sharpening stone, can opener, hardtack, and some canned meat all went in one pile. A thick, wool blanket, a towel, Toby's other spare shirt and a union suit went into the other. The union suit was too big for her, but she could always roll up sleeves and legs. If she rode up into the mountains that she'd heard were there to the north, she'd probably need the extra warmth. She was already planning to wear Toby's jacket, but that was as much to make her look bigger as it was for heat. Jessie was already wearing Toby's shirt and a spare pair of his pants. He'd ripped her dress and camisole to shreds on his ill-fated try at rape. She'd reacted by kneeing him where it would hurt the worst. He'd fallen backwards in pain and hit his head on the stone fireplace. The blow was fatal to him, though the fireplace seemed to be mostly intact. She had tied up her long, blonde hair in a bun and tucked under the man's tan plainsman hat. She'd used the hairpin she'd been wearing to pin it tighter for the ride ahead. She picked up the pistol and was about to tuck in under her belt when she had a second thought and stuck it in a jacket pocket. She'd found a knife, too and she was already wearing it in a sheath clipped onto her belt. The girl carried the items in each pile out to Useless and packed it in one of the saddlebags. She couldn't find a scabbard for the rifle, so it was tied to the left saddlebag; a small hatchet was in a scabbard attached to the right one. A second blanket, she rolled up and tied behind the saddle. She filled two canteens full of water and hung them down next to the hatchet. She picked up the sock she'd found with money in it: two twenty dollar double eagles, a five dollar half eagle and three dollars in folding money buried in a trunk with the clothes. This Jessie shoved into an inside jacket pocket, sock and all. "Thanks for the loan," she said with a smile, looking at Toby's corpse. "What's that? Keep it? Why thanks! Thanks for nothing, you horny bastard." She grimaced with a twist of a smile. "'Course, maybe I owe you. If you hadn't dragged me outta town tied up like a sheep for your own lecherous purposes, I wouldn't be able to get away now." "Then again, if you hadn't up n' died, I might not need to run. My sentence is up in..." She counted days in her head. "...hell, in a week or so, but with you dead, I might not even be alive by then." For a moment, she thought about torching the cabin, but it'd take a little time and it might bring company, company that she didn't want. "Best to put some distance b'tween this place and me," she said aloud. "No telling who might be around. Hell, it's even money that there'll soon be folks out here from Eerie looking for me and Laura. Last thing I need is t'run into Shamus or that damned sheriff." The thought of Laura Meehan made her pause for a moment. If Toby took her, then Laura was probably with his idiot partner, Jake Steinmetz. Toby had told her once that Jake had a cabin a few miles away from his. 'Maybe I should try'n find her,' she thought. "Why the hell waste the time?" she answered herself. "It ain't like she's kin; we ain't hardly even friends." She remembering the way Laura had palled around with Maggie and Bridget and mostly just sent dirty looks her way. "We only just rode together a few days before we come t'Eerie. Besides, I don't even know which way that other cabin is. Sorry, Laura, m'girl," she said with a shake of her head, but it's every man for himself. "Besides, they ain't gonna be looking t'hang you." She locked the door to the cabin behind her, leaving the oil lamp still burning inside. "Let'm think somebody's there, so they waste time trying t'get in." Jessie had learned to ride on her father's old plow horse when she was a boy, so now she had no trouble mounting Useless, as big as he was. Once in the saddle, she looked around once. She knew she was in the mountains somewhere north of town. She looked up and found the "Drinking Cup" in the night sky and followed the handle to the North Star. She planned on riding in that general direction for the rest of the night. "Look out, World, cause Jessie Hanks is back," She yelled into the night, louder than she'd planned. The echoes coming back out of the darkness prickled her hair. Determined to make it deep into the rough before sunup, she whipped the reins, letting go with her right hand to slap Useless' rump. The horse reared and took off at full gallop. Again Jessie had overestimated her own strength and the reins almost pulled out of her left hand. She clenched them hard enough to turn her knuckles white, while Useless galloped through the woods. She ducked this way and that, dodging branches and hoping she wouldn't fall -- or be knocked off his back. Useless didn't respond to Jessie's shouts of "Whoa!" any more than to any of the other words she yelled -- some of them much bluer. All the while, the fugitive girl kept grabbing for the reins with her right hand. She finally caught it and pulled back as hard as she could. She braced herself in the stirrups, leaning back until it almost felt like she was lying down. Useless slowed from a gallop to a trot and Jessie sat up. She thought she'd be able to control him well enough at this speed. She sighed with relief; then she looked down at her arms. She'd had to roll the sleeves of Toby's jacket over twice, so her hands -- her damnable weak, _pretty_, little hands wouldn't get lost in them. "I'll get my old body back, so help me I will," she said through gritted teeth, "and when I do..." *** Almost an hour later, seven men rode up onto a low ridge near Toby Hess' cabin. They split into two groups as they rode in towards the cabin. Clay Falk, Phineas "Finny" Pike and Angel Montiero rode around to come in from behind. Clay stopped by the small, sagging barn. Finny and Angel rode in closer, checking for any other way out besides the front door. Deputy Sheriff Paul Grant, a tall, wiry-looking man with curly brown hair, rode in towards the front with Sam Braddock, Joe Kelton and Davy Kitchner. The men dismounted and walked towards the door. Paul tried the cabin door, standing off to once side in case a shotgun blast came through it. Locked. He backed off a few feet and yelled: "Toby... Toby Hess, this is Paul Grant. We know you'n Jake took the women and we came to get them back. You open the door right now and come out with your hands up." They waited a short while, but there was no answer. "You're making things even harder on yourself, Toby," Paul shouted. "Aw, hell," Joe Kelton said. "Toby's too dumb to be playing games like this. I don't think he's even in there." He braced himself and kicked in the door. Then he saw the heap under the canvas. He went in and pulled it clear. "Hey, there _is_ somebody in here, but he looks hurt; hurt real bad." He backed away from the body. "That's Toby," Paul Grant said. He knelt down beside the man and felt for a pulse. There was none. His long, thin fingers found the gash on the back of Toby's head and he saw the blood on the fireplace stone. "They must've fought. Not much bleeding; he must have hit his head and died fast." "Hard to believe a little thing like Jessie could take out a man like Toby Hess," Clay Falk said, coming into the cabin. Paul picked up the shreds of Jessie's clothes. "Maybe, but I think I know what they were fighting over. Some women get downright unreasonable about rape. If that's what this polecat was up to, then it was self-defense." "Maybe," Sam Braddock said, "but I don't see her around anywhere to ask." "Look for her," Paul told the others. "She might have crawled off hurt". He stood and looked around for any clues to what had happened, while Sam and Joe searched outside. "Davy," the Deputy asked the man behind him, "you said you knew where Jake Steinmetz' place is." "Yeah, it's over..." He started to point. "Don't tell me," Paul said. "You just head on over there and tell the sheriff about Toby here. Get him to bring over Jake's wagon, so we can take Toby's body back to town." Davy nodded and ran out the door. Moments later Paul heard him ride off. "Toby kept a horse out here," Clay yelled from outside. "It's gone now." "Yeah, it looks like a bunch of supplies is missing, too," Paul said, glancing around the cabin. "Maybe Jessie headed back to Eerie," Joe suggested. "I don't think so," Paul said. "She wouldn't take supplies if she was only going back to town. Jessie is even wilder than her sister, Wilma -- or at least more reckless. She'd run if she could. I don't know how much of a start that little gal has on us or even what direction she took. I do know that we can't track her till sunup and that's still a few hours off yet." He sighed. "Odds are, she's gonna get clean away." Joe scratched his head. "The dang fool. She only had a few weeks time left to serve and then she'd be free to go anywhere she wanted. What the hell is she thinking, a woman all alone out there in the wild?" Paul shrugged. "I guess it just hasn't dawned on her that she's a woman now, she and has to play by new rules. Till she does, she's just a disaster waiting to happen." "Whatever, the Sheriff ain't gonna like this," Sam said. "Not one bit." *** "Hey, Paul, they's some cartridges here on the floor," Davy said, pointing under the table. The men had spent the last forty minutes searching the cabin and its grounds for any clues. "I saw them," Paul said with a frown and picked one up. "We don't know what else Jessie may have, but we know she's got a rifle." "Yeah, but what're you worried about?" Davy asked. That spell Shamus put on her won't let her use it on anybody." "It wasn't supposed to let her escape from Eerie either, but she seems to have managed to get around that." Paul didn't like the idea of a rifle in the hands of a woman with the brain of the outlaw Jesse Hanks, but until daylight there wasn't much he could do except wait and report to the Sheriff. "Riders coming," Finny Pike yelled from the cabin door, "a whole bunch of them." "It is the sheriff and the others," Angel Montiero said. "Davy is with them. They brought the wagon." Six men rode up, Sheriff Dan Talbot in the lead. A seventh man, Arsenio Caulder, was driving what must have been Jake Steinmetz' wagon. Laura Meehan was sitting next to him, not looking too much the worse for wear. Jake, Toby's partner, sat in the back of the wagon, his hands and feet firmly tied. A second rope tied Jake to one of the side struts of the wagon. "Hey, Paul," Dan said as his deputy came out of the cabin. "Hear you're having some problems." "Yep, Toby's dead and there's no sign of Jessie anywhere." "That's bad. If she's on the run, she'll get a long lead." Paul nodded. "I figured we'd take Toby's body back to town and let the Doc have a look at it. I can get me some sleep and head back out here in the morning t'start out after our missing gal." Dan thought for a minute. "Sounds like a plan to me. Make sure you got enough supplies, though; you may be on the trail for quite a spell." "I hope not," Paul nodded, "but Jessie's been man-hunted before. She probably knows a trick or two." "I expect that she does, but if any man can track down that stray, you can." The two men went inside. Dan took a very good look at the blood on the fireplace and the wound on the back of Toby's head. "You're probably right that it was an accident. Right about the rape, too, I think; Toby always was a horny old bird. Trouble is, a man has died and it's murder till a judge and jury says it ain't." "I know," Paul said. "Jessie probably knows that, too and that's another reason she's _not_ gonna want to be caught." Davy Ketchum and Monk Dworkin, one of the men who'd come in with the Sheriff, picked up Toby's body and carried it out to the wagon. "Oh, my Lord," Jake said, when he saw the body. "Th-that's Toby. You wasn't lying; he _is_ dead. That... bitch Jessie, she done killed my partner." "He deserved it," Laura said, turning around on the wagon seat to glower at him. "Least ways, he did if he tried to do to her what you tried to do to me. Where'd you two get the idea you could just carry us off like sacks of flour?" Jake looked almost surprised. "Laura, you mean really you don't like us? I-I thought..." "I think he's beginning to get the idea," Arsenio said. "Took him long enough," Laura said. "I knew they were a damned pain in the ass, pawing us at the saloon they way they did, but I always thought they were just too plain dumb to get themselves into any real trouble." She looked down at Toby's body and shook her head. "I guess I was wrong." "You ain't mad at me; are you, Laura?" Jake asked plaintively. "Jake," Laura spat, "I'm madder than hell at you, at the _both_ of you. I just don't think that Toby should have died for being stupid." "However he died, the man deserves a little dignity," Marty Hernandez said. He had something -- a canvas, Laura saw -- under his arm. He used it to cover the body, bunching some of it under Toby's head and feet. It would stay in place the whole long ride back to town. *** Jessie thought she heard the sound of rushing water ahead. She slowed Useless to a walk and kept alert. The full moon was still high enough to see by... some, but this was mountain country. The last thing she wanted was to ride off some damned cliff into a river. Yes, there was a river and it was close. She found the edge of that cliff and looked down. It would've been a nasty fall, thirty feet or more down to the water. She could see the rapids just a bit upstream from where she was. Downstream, though, the river looked calm for as far as she could see. The question was how to get down to it? She followed the gorge rim until she found place where a landslide had made a gentler trail, a rocky but scalable grade. She had to take her time; Useless was skittish walking over loose stone, but they finally made it to the river. She sat still a moment, just looking across the water. It looked to be a few hundred feet wide with no trail she could see on the other side. Rapids meant shallows. She should have no trouble crossing. "Just as well there's no trail over there, Useless," she whispered. "We can head into the middle and walk us a ways downstream -- make it that much harder for anybody t'track us." She flicked the reins and guided the horse into the river, past his fetlocks though never deeper than its knees. She was out about fifty yards. Useless hadn't been too happy about going in, but he was more comfortable now. He lowered his head and began to drink. Jessie let him, using the time to take a drink herself from a canteen. She'd knew that she'd left an almost full bottle of whiskey back at Toby's cabin. 'It would've been nice to have,' she thought, 'but riding cross-country to get away from a posse ain't the time to be getting liquored up.' She _had_ brought along all that money she'd found. 'Once I gets away, they'll be lots of time for old Toby t'buy me a drink.' After a bit, Useless lifted his head out of the water and started walking towards the far shore. Jessie pulled at the reins. Useless turned away, then turned back. "No, you stupid nag," Jessie said firmly, "I want to stay in the river for now." She turned the gelding a second time, pulling much harder -- for her -- on the reins. The horse seemed to understand. With a whinny that sounded like the equine equivalent of "Oh, what the hell, _you're_ the rider," Useless began walking slowly downstream. Jessie rode on in midstream for almost an hour, going slowly, listening for the sounds that would warn of rapids or, worse, a waterfall, ahead. She also kept looking down to see how deep the water was getting. She'd have a harder time controlling Useless in deeper water. The young woman had just come around a bend in the river when she started to hear a noise ahead. It got louder as she rode towards it, the churning rush of fast water. "Time t'get to shore," Jessie said and turned Useless towards the far riverbank. As she got close, she saw trouble. The bank was a narrow ledge, only a few feet wide, at the base of a twenty-foot cliff. "Damn," Jessie spat. She turned Useless upstream to find a place where she could ride out of the river. She found it a few hundred yards upstream. There was a break in the cliff wall, an easy slope that led up to the top. Easy, except that it was overgrown with low brush. She had Useless move towards it slowly. He stepped on some of the plants and whinnied, shaking his head. "Move it, Useless. I isn't gonna spend the rest of the night looking for something you like better." The bay took another step. This time, he found gravel. They inched their way forward; she certainly couldn't risk having him fall. The climb took much longer than she wanted and a lot of the brush was broken under Useless' hooves, but they made it to the top. Jessie looked down at the path they'd taken from the river. It felt good to have done what she'd just done. "I sure ain't as strong as I used t'be, but I can ride as good as ever." She patted the side of her ornery mount. Maybe this would work out even better than she thought. *** It was almost 5 AM by the time the men got back to Eerie. Most of them headed straight for their homes and beds. Shamus had promised each member of the posse a free drink when they got back, but most of them were too tired to enjoy it very much just then. Besides, the place was usually closed this time of night. Arsenio pulled the wagon up in front of the Eerie Saloon. He jumped down and ran around to help Laura. "I can manage," she said irritably as she climbed down unaided. "I know," Arsenio said. "I... I just thought that you might still be a little shaky from what happened to you." He'd had his hands raised to help her, but now he lowered them awkwardly to his sides. "Yes, I... I guess I am." To his eyes, she seemed a bit flustered. She drew in a breath, as if to clear her head and walked into the Saloon. Arsenio shrugged, accepting that she had a lot of calming down to do. He untied his horse's reins from the wagon and then retied them to a hitching post before following her into the Saloon. The Sheriff also drew his horse up by the Saloon. He tipped back his hat and said, "Paul, why don't you take Jake over t'the Jail. Put him in a cell, then put yourself to bed. You'll need all the sleep you can get, if you're going to ride back up to Toby's cabin and start off after Jessie today." "You got it, Boss," Paul said, stifling a yawn. Paul slept at the jail. Amy Talbot, the Sheriff's wife, had rigged up a storeroom there as a spare bedroom for when her husband had to work late. Paul took it for himself when he became Dan's deputy. After the crowded bunkhouse at Slocum's ranch, the room seemed like the lap of luxury. "Why I don't I go with him?" Blackie Easton asked. I can drive Toby's body over to the Doc's after Jake gets out." The Sheriff nodded. Blackie tied his horse to the wagon before climbing up into the seat. He picked up the reins and started off. Paul, still on his own horse, followed. *** "Laura, Saints be praised, ye're back!" Molly O'Toole's voice rang through the room. The older woman hurried towards the door. "We were so worried. Are ye and..." She stopped and looked past Laura towards the door. "Where's Jessie then?" Wilma Hanks had been sweeping by some of the tables. "Yeah," she asked, as she walked over. "Where my sister? She ain't hurt, is she?" "We don't know if she is," Arsenio said. "We didn't find her." "Then what the hell are you doing back here, Arsenio?" Wilma said. The shapely brunette waitress put her hands on her hips. "You figure you can just rescue Laura here and come on home without Jessie?" "Wilma, that's not fair," Bridget Kelly said. The redheaded bar girl had also been sweeping. After the dance, Shamus had set the women to cleaning the Saloon. They preferred to keep busy anyway while they waited for news about Laura and Jessie. "Maybe not, but I still got a right t'ask. She _is_ my sister." The Sheriff walked in. "We didn't find her because..." He looked around. "Is the Doc here?" "Oh, my Lord!" Wilma declared. "She _is_ hurt." "I'm right here," Doc said from the corner behind Dan. He'd been waiting in case his services were needed. "What's the problem?" Dan sighed. "Best way to say this is straight out. As far as we can tell, Toby Hess took Jessie to his cabin and tried to... well, he ripped her clothes off. We found them by his body." "His body?" Molly asked. "His body." Dan shifted to face the doctor and continued. "Doc, we brought it back. Blackie Easton's taking it over t'your office now. Take a look at it and see if you can tell just how he died. I'll tell Stu Gallagher and he can pick it up when you're done." Gallagher, everyone knew, was the town mortician. "I'll head over there now, if I'm not needed here," Doc said. "I sure don't need you," Laura said with an odd tone of defensiveness. Doc nodded, picked up his bag and hurried out. "Then where's Jessie?" Wilma asked. "We don't know," Dan replied. "She was gone when Paul and the others got to Toby's place. So was Toby's horse and some supplies." "Why that shifty little bitch," Wilma said with a grin. "She actually figured a way outta this place." "That's right," Dan said. "That makes her an escaped prisoner... _maybe_ a murderer. Paul's going out there in the morning to see if he can pick up her trail." "No, he isn't." said Judge Humphreys, who had been standing by the door listening. His thinning gray hair was uncombed and his nightshirt was sticking out of his pants. "I want the whole posse here for Jake's trial on Monday." He looked at Shamus. "From the size of the crowd I anticipate, we'll need to hold it in here. Is that all right with you, Shamus?" "Aye," Shamus said. "The wheels of justice are always welcome to be turning in me place." "As are the drinkers who'll be in the crowd, no doubt. Thank you, Shamus," the Judge said. He turned back to the Sheriff. "Dan, I heard you all ride into town. I've already told some of the men; you can tell the rest." Dan shook his head. "That trail of Jessie's going to get cold, while Paul sits here in town." "I'm aware of that, but it can't be helped. Joe Kelton said that Paul was the first to get a good look at Toby's body. He may well be needed as a witness." He paused for a moment and looked directly at Wilma. "Perhaps Jessie's loving sister here can give Paul some advice on where Jessie may have gone." "Why should I?" Wilma asked with a toss of her head. "Because," Shamus said firmly, "I'll be asking -- no, let's call a spade a spade -- I'll be _ordering_ ye to help." "Fine," Dan said. "I'll tell Paul the news -- good and bad -- in the morning and have him come over to talk to Wilma." "She'll be here," Shamus said. "In the meantime, ye all might as well be getting to bed." He yawned. "There's still a lot of cleaning t'be done, and ye'll all do it better after a night's sleep." He looked at the clock. "Considering the hour, ye can all be sleeping in till... nine." Bridget and Wilma started for the stairs. Molly went back to the kitchen to tell Maggie, while Shamus went to lock up the storeroom. "I guess this is really goodnight then," Arsenio said. He looked around. He and Laura were the only ones still in the room. "Uh... ummm... Goodnight then," Laura said. Arsenio reached out and took her hand. "Laura..." "What?" She stiffened visibly. He held her hand for a moment and just looked at her. "I'm glad you weren't hurt, Laura, but I guess you already know that." Then, looking awkward again, he let go of her fingers and walked away. Laura stood there and watched him leave. She felt... she didn't know what she _felt_. "Damn, that man!" she declared with a shake of her head and walked slowly up to her room. *** "Whoa!" Jessie pulled at Useless' reins and the horse slowed to a walk. The sky had been getting light for the last quarter hour and she could see where the sun would be rising soon. She was tired, too bone tired to go much further. "Damn this weak, woman's_ body," she muttered. "I don't know how Sarah Fuller could put up with it." The woods on the left of the trail looked fairly thick and she rode towards them. At the edge of the woods, she dismounted. She wrapped the reins around her wrist and led Useless into the trees. Jesse Hanks had been sparking Sarah Fuller, the prettiest girl he'd ever seen and Shamus' potion had turned him into her exact double. She walked about twenty yards in, circling behind a stand of ponderosa pines to screen her from the trail. She used a bit of rope to rig a short picket line and fixed Useless' rein to it. There was grass and a bit of brush along the line. He'd have more than enough to eat. Jessie left him saddled... just in case. She took off her jacket and hung it over the saddle horn. Then she got out the hatchet and used it to clear off all the branches on one side of a tree, from the ground to a height of about four feet. She worked slower than she'd have liked, so as not to work up a sweat. Some of the branches she laid on the ground beneath where they'd been cut in a sort of crisscross pattern. She twisted others in with the branches that remained on either side of the cut. Jessie put the jacket back on and wrapped the blanket around herself. It was long enough to cover her head and still reach down to drag on the ground. She sat down on the crisscross of branches. Counting both the blanket and the branches, there were a good six inches between her and the cold earth. She leaned back against the tree. The makeshift shelter was crude, but she was out of the wind and hidden from the trail. She took the pistol out of the jacket pocket and laid it on her lap, but under the blanket. She used the other hand to pull the blanket a bit tighter around her. Satisfied, she closed her eyes and was asleep almost at once. *** Chapter 2 -- "Life on the Run" The sun was just setting when Jessie woke up that next evening. She yawned, stretched and looked around. Useless was still on the picket line she'd rigged. "Damn well better be," she muttered. "Last thing I need is to be afoot out here with nothing more than this pistol." She rolled up the blanket and set it back behind the saddle. She cleared a circle of ground a few feet from the tree and gathered the driest sticks she could find for a fire -- a _smokeless_ fire. Once she got the fire going, she set up the coffeepot on a couple of rocks, one on each side of the fire and added water and ground coffee. While it cooked, she opened a can of tinned meat. She sliced up about half the meat and stuck the pieces on a sharpened stick over the fire to cook. She opened a can of beans, too, but she just set the open can by the fire to heat. Pots and pans were too much time and trouble to clean, so she hadn't brought any. The coffee boiled about the time the meat was done. She poured in a bit of cool water from the canteen to settle the grounds, counted to sixty seconds, and poured herself a cup. She used a forked stick to get the can of beans away from the fire. They were only slightly burned. The meat was cooked through, the way she liked it. Jessie sat down on the pile of branches she'd slept on and leaned back against the tree. "Beans and tinned meat." She made a sour face, as she said it. "It'll keep me going, all right, but it sure ain't much of a meal." She took a sip of coffee. It needed sugar, which she'd forgotten to pack. She slid a piece of meat off the skewer, blowing on it, so it was cool enough to hold. She took a bite, chewing slowly. It was salty from the brine it had been canned in. She ate a forkful or two of beans from the can, now that they'd cooled. She shrugged. For food on the trail, it wasn't too bad. It just wasn't too good either. "Damn!" she said. "I wonder what Maggie made for supper tonight." She closed her eyes and thought about Maggie's cooking. She could almost see the dinner table back at the Saloon piled high with food and see everybody gathered around it, eating their fill. She could almost smell the meal. Her mouth began to water as she thought about her own favorite supper, that Mex style spicy meat stew Maggie made. In her mind's eye, the image of Shamus was sitting at the head of the table, as always. He looked up from his food. "Ye really should be coming back here t'Eerie, Jessie, me girl," he said; it seemed like he was looking right at her. "And _ye_ know that, too, don't ye, Jessie?" "Wha..." "Ye should be here with us," Shamus said. "Ye belong..." "The hell with _that_." Jessie opened her eyes and took a long drink of the coffee. It was strong and still a little _too_ hot, but she needed it like that just now. "That damned potion! Shamus said that I couldn't leave, so now it's got me thinking about going hom... going back." "Well, the hell with that... and the hell with you, Shamus O'Toole, if you think that I'll come back and let myself get hung. If I ever do go back, it's gonna be to get me the antidote to that potion of yours." She laughed. "And once I'm myself, my _real_ self, again, I'm gonna put a bullet right between them beady little eyes of yours." She pointed her finger towards the image of Shamus, as if it were the barrel of a pistol. "Pow!" she said with a laugh. "That'd teach you." She took it as a given that her male self could handle anyone coming after him for the murder of Toby Hess. Her current, female self was a whole different matter, especially with that damned potion making her do whatever Shamus or the sheriff told her to do. She sighed, sorry it wasn't real and took another bite of meat. She concentrated on the salty taste and tried _very_ hard not to think of Maggie's cooking... or of anything else about Eerie. Jessie finally finished her meal and packed up her gear. The last of the coffee put out the fire. She tossed away the can from the beans. The tin of meat was resealed as best she could and stuck back in the saddlebag. Now that she'd opened it, the meat had to be finished the next night or it'd go bad on her. She hadn't eaten a couple of the cooked slices. They would do for food when she got hungry during the day. That was later. Right now, she just wanted to ride. She untied Useless from the line and tucked away the rope. "Let's get moving, horse," she said as she climbed up onto his back. "The more space there is between me and that damned town, the better I'll like it." *** Jessie looked off to the east. The sky was getting light, especially in the east, where it was a wash of purple and gold. "Sun'll be up soon," she said to herself. "Best to start looking for a place to camp in a little bit." It was her third night on the run and she figured that she'd put a good hundred miles between her and Eerie. "Trouble is, I don't know where I'm running _to_." There were no maps at Toby's house and she'd always let Wilma think about stuff like that. Now, not having a plan bothered her. "Ride now, think about it while I'm having supper." Happy to have the start of a plan, at least, she rode on. All at once, the path she was following through the trees opened up into a meadow, a few hundred yards of clearing in just about every direction. She instinctively thought about riding along the edge of the woods. She could duck into the trees in an instant if she had to. But she wouldn't have to. She hadn't heard or seen any sign of anyone following her. She hadn't heard or seen any sign of _anyone_ doing _anything_for over a day. "What the hell," she said with a shrug of her shoulders and rode out into the open space. The meadow was full of clumps of tall prairie grass with a scattering of white, blue and yellow flowers. In places, the grass almost came up to her saddle and she could smell the fragrances of the flowers she rode through. There was a sudden movement in the grass ahead and off to her left. Jessie slowed Useless to a walk and pulled the pistol out of her pocket. She didn't think it was human. She'd seen tracks across the trail a few miles back, big tracks. Bear tracks. The grass wasn't high enough to hide an adult grizzly, but it could hide a cub. The only thing really dangerous about a bear cub was its cry for help. That cry brought "momma" on the run, madder than hell and ready to use those six-inch claws of hers on whatever scared her baby. "_No_, _thank_ _you_," she whispered with a shudder. Something ran out from one clump of grass heading towards the trees. Three -- no, make it four somethings. They were little and gray and... _rabbits_! Jessie tracked one for a moment with the gun sight, then fired. The rabbit jerked forwards and fell over dead. Jessie rode over and quickly dismounted. She grabbed the rabbit and used a cord to tie it by its hind legs to the saddlebag. "Hello, supper," she said happily, as she climbed back onto Useless. "This'll beat the hell out of another night of tinned meat and beans." *** Jessie took another bite of roast rabbit, washing it down with coffee. She'd found a ponderosa pine that must have been struck by lightening. Its trunk was shattered about four feet from the ground. She'd fixed it up for the night as a lean-to, cutting some branches and weaving them in among the others to make a fairly solid roof. After that, she'd built a fire near the lean-to and found some ripe pinecones. She cut out the pi?on nuts, the pinecone's seeds, to flavor the meat. "Not bad," she said, wiping her mouth on her sleeve, "not bad at all. I guess I learned me a thing or two helping Maggie, after all." She thought about Eerie again. The voice in her head, the one that that had been urging her to go back, wasn't as strong now. "Haven't had one of them visions in over a day. Guess Shamus' orders is fading." She suddenly looked down at the half-eaten rabbit in her hands. "That order of Shamus' not to escape didn't stop me from getting away... and... and I shot me something today. Shot it and killed it _dead_. My hand didn't shake. I could squeeze the trigger sweet as you please. I... Ye-ah-hooo!" She stood up quickly and danced a jig around the small cooking fire. "I can shoot. I can shoot. I can shoot... _rabbits_." She stopped her dance and sat back down, staring into the fire. "A rabbit ain't no people. I still don't know if I can kill me one of _them_, can shoot me a man." She sat back down and took another bite of meat. She took another bite of rabbit. "I know I can hold a pistol." She stood again and drew the pistol, spun it around her finger and set back in her pocket in a single, smooth motion. "Suh-weeet!" The deadly skill was still there. "I can probably point it at a man, too. Hellfire, Wilma and Bridget done that back in Eerie, but... but can I squeeze the trigger 'n shoot a man -- maybe kill him?" She sighed remembering what had happened to her sister and Bridget when they'd tried to escape the Saloon, threatening R.J. in the process. "Or do I wind up on the ground like they done, shaking so hard I can't even hold on t'the damned thing and not being able t'walk? That's something that I _gotta_ know and I gotta find it out on _my_ terms." She took another, longer drink of coffee. "Well, I'll just have to go someplace and find that out." Jessie spent the best part of an hour planning. From what she remembered hearing around the Saloon, there were towns to the west of where she probably was right now, a number of them along the road -- a _real_ road that ran between Prescott, the territorial capital and Phoenix. There was a stage line that used that road, too, used it for regular runs between the two towns and then on south and east to Tucson. "I'll find me that road tomorrow night and see what sort of 'mischief' I can get myself into; see if I can shoot a man, too. _Then_ I'll hold up someplace for a day or two and make some _real_ plans." She ate some more rabbit, washing it down with coffee until she was full. There was still enough of both left for breakfast. She put them back by the fire and watched, while the fire burnt itself down to coals inside the ring of stones she'd used to mark the fire pit. Jessie lay down on the mattress of pine branches she'd rigged for herself under the fallen tree -- "mountain feathers", the old-timers called them -- and pulled the blanket over herself. She was still thinking about that "mischief" until she finally dozed off. *** The Prescott to Phoenix road ran between low hills for most of the way along its route. It was really just an old Indian trail, widened by use to accommodate the occasional wagon. In some places, mud from the heavy, late summer rains had dried into ruts so deep that a driver could just lean back and let them steer the vehicle. Jessie looked down at the road from near the top of a rise that stretched for a mile or so alongside it. She was well hidden behind an improvised "blind" of brush woven between two small trees. She'd spent almost two hours building it during the night and, as far as she could tell -- and she had checked after sun-up -- there was no way anyone could see her from the road. Not even if they knew where to look. Useless was on a picket line in some trees just over the crest. If need be, she could get to him and be on her way in less time than it would take a man to climb from the road to where she was now. She took a drink of water and wished, not for the first time, that it was the whiskey she'd left at Toby's cabin. "This is a damned waste of time," she said softly. "There ain't that many people on this road and the ones that do come by look like they ain't got anything worth taking." She was looking to the north -- to the right from her point of view -- watching the first person to come by in almost an hour. A heavyset man with a scraggly beard, a prospector or a mountain man, maybe, was leading a gray mule past her. The pick and shovel tied to the side of the pack that the mule was carrying told her it was a prospector. She could see the man's jaw moving; he must have been talking to the mule they walked. 'Too long out in the wild,' she thought. And not worth her time. "I found close to fifty dollars at Toby's. Most likely, I got more money on me than he has." She thought about just drawing her pistol and putting a bullet in his head. "It'd be as good a test as any, but..." She shook her head. "Naw, it... it just wouldn't be... sporting." She leaned back against the hill behind her to wait for something better. Jessie's chance came a few hours later. She was beginning to nod off from boredom and the afternoon heat, when she heard a noise, a rumbling far off in the distance. She leaned forward and squinted. "Wish t'hell, Toby'd had him a spyglass or something back at his place." Then she saw it clearly, coming out of a cloud of its own dust as the road turned about a half-mile away, a stagecoach. She jumped up and began scrambling down the hill, crouching low to keep hidden. All the time she was studying the coach as it came closer. There was a rider and a guard up front. The guard wasn't holding his rifle. It was probably under the seat, she guessed. Sloppy. There was almost no luggage on top, just a few boxes. When the road turned again, she could see that there wasn't any sort of a bulge in the rear boot either, where luggage and mail might be stored at the back of the coach. Her best guess was that the two men were alone on the coach. There was _something_ on it, though, and she was going to find out just what that something was. If it was valuable, she was going to keep it. By the time she got to the side of the road, the coach was almost a hundred yards off. She stepped out onto the road and began waving her arms. "Stop the coach," she yelled, lowering her voice to a more masculine range. Her hat was pushed down over her head, partly covering her face. The driver pulled at the reins. The horses slowed, stopping a few feet from Jessie, kicking up a cloud of dust around her. "What you want, boy?" the driver called down from his seat. He was an older man, brown from years in the sun and wearing what looked like an old cavalry jacket. The guard, a chunky-looking man in a brown work shirt and a gray, fringed vest, just sat there, his arms crossed in amusement. "Whatever you got up there that's valuable," Jessie said. She pulled the pistol from her pocket and pointed it at the pair. They didn't move. The guard began to chuckle. "You think you gonna scare is with that there popgun, sonny?" Jessie tried to fire. That bastard wouldn't be laughing at her after she put a slug into him. Instead, her arm shifted as she fired, so that she shot into the air. "Now!" she shouted, recovering quickly. But the damage was done. The sudden movement and the recoil of the pistol had made her head jerk. Her hat had come loose as she ran down the hill. Now, it flew off and her hair tumbled down about her shoulders. "A girl!" The guard sat up. "Well, I sure as hell ain't gonna give up no mail sack to no pretty little gal like you. I'd be a laughingstock, probably cost me m'job, too." He reached forward, under the seat. Jessie had guessed right. That was where he'd put his rifle. Desperate, Jessie aimed for his chest and fired again. And again her hand shifted of its own will. The bullet hit the seat just inches from his hand. He pulled it back quickly. The driver raised his hands into the arm. The guard scowled and did the same. 'Shit,' Jessie thought. 'That's probably as good as I can do.' She cursed Shamus silently. Aloud she said, "Next time I won't aim for nuthin' you weren't born with. Now, _real_ slow, you take out that rifle you was going for and hold it up so I can see it." Her knees felt weak, but she was still standing The guard muttered something under his breath. Very carefully, he reached down and lifted the rifle, a Winchester, out from under the seat. It was a beauty, but it took a different caliber shell than what Jessie was carrying. "Toss it..." She pointed with her pistol towards the other side of the road. "...over there." The guard muttered again and threw the rifle to the ground. Jessie pointed her pistol back at the driver. "He got anything else on him?" "Don't say a word," the guard growled. Jessie fired into the air, deliberately this time. "Tell me." "He-he's got a derringer in a vest pocket -- please don't shoot me -- and... and a b-bowie knife in his right boot." "Take 'em, mister, out and toss 'em by the rifle," Jessie told the guard. She pointed the pistol right at his head. The guard glared at her, but he did as she said. 'Thank the Lord,' Jessie thought. 'If that bastard decided to call my bluff, I'd have really been stuck. That damned spell of Shamus' would've laid me out on the ground the minute I tried t'do anything to him.' She turned her attention to the other man. "Now you, driver, what're you carrying?" The driver stood up slowly, his hands raised. "Just this, ma'am." He was wearing a gun belt. He reached down with his left arm and loosened it. Then he grabbed one end and tossed it in the same direction as the guard's weapons. "Thank you, gentlemen. Now if you'd be so kind to show me that mail sack you mentioned. You... driver, you do it. I wouldn't want to be responsible for making your friend here lose his job for giving up a mail sack to 'no pretty little gal' like me." She was definitely enjoying this. "Not a big, brave man like him." The driver reached back on the roof of the stage. He fiddled with something Jessie couldn't see. When he turned back, he was holding a pale gray bag about the size of a sack of flour. The words "U.S. Mail" were printed on it in big black letters. It looked full and he needed both hands to hold the thing. "Fine," Jessie said. "You just toss that thing over here by me." She pointed to the ground in front of her with the pistol. The man twisted his body and, with a loud grunt, tossed the sack into the air. It landed with a sizeable thud in the grass at the edge of the road about five feet from where Jessie was standing. "All right," Jessie said firmly. "Now get outta here." "Y-yes, ma'am," the driver said. He jerked at the reins and the team started off at nearly a full gallop. Jessie stood for a moment, laughing at the fright she'd put into the two men. She picked up her hat and tucked her hair back up under it. Then she hurried over to examine her prize. The sack was heavy burlap interwoven with some sort of a metal mesh. She didn't think she'd be able to cut it. There was a lock sewn into the top, as well. She didn't try to lift the thing after she'd seen the way the driver had struggled with it. Much as she hated to admit it, she knew how much weaker her woman's body was. "The hell with it!" She held her pistol next to the lock and fired. The bullet tore through the mechanism and the sack popped open. She lifted it as best she could and dumped the contents on the ground just off the road. "Letters!" She cursed thoroughly, even used a few Spanish words that she'd learned from Maggie. "What the hell am I supposed to do with letters? I'm too damned weak to carry 'em all away in the sack and I sure as hell can't sit _here_ going through 'em one at a time looking for cash." And there had been nothing in the sack but letters. No, that wasn't quite true. She recognized a few things as legal documents, a will and a couple deeds that fell out of some envelop full of papers with the name of a lawyer printed on the side. There were a few newspapers and some broadsides, advertisements, promoting a new settlement up in the Oregon Territory, all of it just worthless so far as she was concerned. Finally, down near the bottom of the pile, she found a small package all tied up with string. It was only about the size of a man's fist, but it was something that, at least, looked like it might be valuable. "Well, that was pretty much of a waste," she said in disgust, holding up the package. "First, I can't shoot straight, then, all I get for my trouble is this, whatever the hell it is." She thought about just leaving it there, but there was a principle involved. When you robbed somebody, you took some of their stuff with you. She shoved the box down into the empty left pocket of her jacket. The pistol was in the right pocket. There was a noise, way, way off in the distance. Jessie turned and looked down the road in that direction. "Riders," she spat. Had the men on the stage sent them? No, they were coming from the north. The stage had been heading south. Still, she didn't need to be seen. There might be questions, questions that she'd just as soon not have to answer. Jessie tossed the sack on top of the pile of letters. It would hold them down against the wind and dirt that the riders stirred up as they rode by, and its color would blend with the dirt of the road. They weren't very likely to see it as they passed. "And they ain't gonna see me either." She turned and started back up the hill, crouching as before to hide herself in the brush as she climbed. When the riders -- it was three men -- when they came by, she froze in place, bent over to where she was almost flat on the ground. She was too high up, and they rode by as if they had never noticed her. She watched them ride past, then waited until they reached a spot about a quarter mile further on where the road dipped. Once they were out of sight, she stood up and ran for the top of the hill. She reached it and disappeared into the trees on the other side. Useless was waiting. He looked up from the grass he was eating as she quickly untied his rein from the picket line. She'd left him saddled, so she could quickly climb into him. Jessie rode south along the far side of the hill from the road for about a mile. She rode up to the top of the hill and looked down the road in both directions. There was nobody in sight either way. She eased Useless down the hill and crossed the road. She rode north on the hills on the other side for about two miles, then crossed back. She rode another two miles or so north, this time on the road, listening for other riders. There were none. The sun was hanging low by now. She left the trail heading west. She was going to find a place to camp for the night, then, maybe, head south. She was getting tired. Her new body wasn't cut out for long runs on horseback or living off the land. If she were lucky, she'd find someplace she could hole up for a day or two to rest from the trail and try and think. *** After Jessie had set up her camp and eaten the last of the roast rabbit from the night before, she unwrapped the package. The paper and string went straight into the fire. "A damned necklace," she spat when she opened the box. It was pretty enough, a small cameo, blue with the silhouette in ivory or mother of pearl, on a silver chain. "Might be worth a few bucks, but I'd have a helluva time explaining how I got ahold of it." Just the same, she put it, box and all, back in her pocket. There'd been a note inside the box. On a whim, she read it instead of just tossing it into the fire. September 6, 1872 Dearest, Sweet Martha, I hoped that this reached you in time for your birthday. I only wish that I could be there to give it to you myself. Words can't express how much I miss you, my beloved wife and you are Always in my thoughts. The moment my work out here for Mr. Hall is done, I will be on the first stagecoach back to you. Until then, know that I will always be Your Loving Husband, Eugene "Now ain't that sweet," Jessie said. "It's almost a shame that she ain't never gonna get that necklace... or the letter." She crumbled up the paper and tossed it into the fire. "Some men are just downright fools about their wives. Like Ole Shamus. He don't show it very much, but I'll bet that he'd do just about anything for..." Jessie stopped as a nasty smile began to curl her pretty lips. She knew that she couldn't shoot anyone. "Close but no cigar," was how she thought of it, even if "close" meant "close enough to bluff somebody." She was beginning to get an idea, though, about how she could force that Irish bastard to _give_ her the antidote. She wanted some time to just sit and work it out so that Shamus couldn't use whatever control he might still have over her to stop her. She had a couple ideas about _that_ as well. Nasty ideas, the best kind. *** Chapter 3 -- "Stuck In Eerie" On Sundays, the schoolhouse in Eerie doubled as the town church. There was talk, now and then, of building a "real" church, but nothing much ever seemed to come of it. Both the members of the congregation and the parents knew that they shared a much nicer building than either group could afford on its own. Judge Humphreys was a church elder. That guaranteed him a seat in the front during the service, so he could see -- and be seen -- by just about everyone. They were about halfway through that Sunday's service, when the Judge saw Paul Grant slip in. Paul glared at the Judge. "You... me... talk." He gestured silently. "Now!" "Later," the Judge answered, pointing to his watch. Paul didn't like it, but there was nothing he could do without disrupting the service. He bared his teeth at the Judge and sat down. Someone handed him an opened hymnal and he began singing along with the others. *** Being in the back of the room, Paul was able to get out of the building as soon as the services were over. He stood off to the side of the line as people left, watching for the Judge to come out. The Judge was in the front. And he was an elder. Paul wasn't the only one who wanted to talk to him. Yes, he would be at the monthly board meeting. No, he didn't think the sermon had been too long. Or too short. Of course, he'd be glad to have dinner with Mr. Gilmore to talk about a donation; Thursday would be fine. 'Well,' the Judge thought to himself. 'That's what a politician does. His time and interest are his basic commodities.' He finally got out the door. It was a beautiful late summer morning. He took a deep breath of air to brace himself and walked over to where he saw Paul waiting. Paul saw him coming and pushed himself away from the tree he'd been leaning against. "I want to talk to you, Judge." There were still people milling around the schoolyard, including Rev. Yingling. "Shall we go around the side of the building, Paul?" The Judge gestured with his arm. "We're less likely to disturb anyone or to be disturbed ourselves." "I don't care where we talk; just so we do." Paul walked quickly around the building, leaving the Judge to hurry after him. "I expect that you want to know why I wouldn't allow you to go back out after Jessie." The Judge said before Paul could speak. "Yeah, I --" "Don't interrupt. First of all, it's standard procedure to keep the entire posse around for the trial when they bring a man in." "But I wasn't --" "I said, 'don't interrupt', Paul and _please_ let me continue. Secondly, you may not have been there when they caught Jake, but you _were_ at Toby's cabin. In fact, you were the one who first... examined his body." "Joe saw him first. It was him that lifted up the blanket off Toby's body," "Yes, but you were the one who looked closely at the body. Joe just put the blanket back over him afterwards." He paused a beat. "Doc Upshaw's got the body now for an autopsy, that's the term for a medical examination to see how someone died. I'm convening an inquest tomorrow, right after Jake's trial, if I can -- Tuesday at the latest. "Is it a kind of trial, too?" Paul's anger was mixed with curiosity now. "No, we can't have a trial without Jessie, but I can listen to evidence. I can issue warrants, too, on probable cause. You can use one to get help, especially from the Army. And you can use it to claim Jessie if she's gotten herself arrested by somebody for something else. Unless she's in jail for something _really_ serious, a murder warrant would establish a prior claim." "You know, Dan looked at Toby's body, too. Couldn't he --" "You might as well stop arguing, Paul. I'm as muley-headed stubborn as you are and _I_ can back it up. Consider yourself _ordered_ to appear." "What the hell does that mean?" "It means that if you aren't there for the inquest, you're in contempt of court and I can throw your sorry ass in jail. The Sheriff's, too, if he lets you go." The Judge put his hand on Paul's shoulder. "You're a good man, Paul. Please don't make me do that." *** "Hi, R.J." The barman looked up from the glass he was wiping. "Hey, Paul. You here on official business or can I get you something to drink?" "A little of both," Paul said. "First off, give me a beer." He tossed a silver dollar onto the bar. R.J. nodded and filled the glass, handing it -- and the change -- to Paul. The deputy took a long drink and sighed, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "Damn, I needed that." "What's the matter?" R.J. asked. "The Judge says I can't go out after Jessie till tomorrow, at least. I found her trail -- I think -- when we were all at Toby's place last night. I just couldn't be sure in the dark. It'll be colder 'n ice by the time I can get back up there." "Why won't he let you go out today?" "He wants to hold some kind of a trial... an inquest and issue a warrant. It seems like so much --" He slammed a fist on the bar. "Dammit! I should've stayed at the cabin and started out from there in the morning, instead of coming back to town like I did." "Wait a minute. Aren't you the guy who said he could track anything. You've been bending my ear with stories like that the whole time I've known you." "Well now, I rode line for Mr. Charles Goodnight for almost three years, winter and summer up, in Colorado, doing nothing but tracking down strays from his herds. Jessie may be smarter than a lost steer, but the principles of following tracks are the same for the both of them." "There's the overconfident man that I know." R.J. laughed. "Now you said you were here on business, too. What else can I do for you?" "You can tell me where Wilma is. I want to talk to her about where Jessie might have gone." "Sounds good to me. She's in the kitchen helping Maggie with lunch. Good luck, I don't think she'll be much help." "Probably not, but it's worth a try." He finished his beer and headed back to the kitchen. *** Maggie was chopping vegetables when Paul walked in. "Deputy, what brings you to my kitchen?" "I came to talk to Wilma for a bit if you don't mind." Maggie nodded and tilted her head as if pointing. "She is over there." Paul looked in that direction. Wilma was at the sink watching dishes, her back to him. "Hello, Wilma," he said, walking towards her, "I come to have a little talk with you." She turned now at the sound of her name. "Talk to me? What about?" "Your sister," Paul said, bracing for trouble. "And where she might be heading right now." "I'm busy. Come back later." She turned back to the sink and picked a dish out of the soapy water. Paul walked over and stood beside her. "It's just a few easy questions. I'll even help you while we talk." He pulled a second dish out of the water. "I can do it _myself_." Wilma grabbed for Paul's dish. "Gimme that." Paul jerked it away from her. "Oh, c'mon, Wilma. Just a few questions. I'll help you and you'll help me." "You think I'm gonna help you catch my sister, you're even dumber than I --" "Oh, ye'll be helping, Wilma, lass. I'll be making sure of that." Paul and Wilma both turned. Shamus was standing by the door, his arms crossed over his chest and a serious look on his face. "R.J. told me ye was in here, Paul," Shamus said walking over to the pair, "and I figured ye'd be needing a bit of me help." Paul grinned and put the dish back into the water. "I think you just may be right, Shamus. Okay, give it a go." He grinned and leaned back against the kitchen counter. "Damn both your souls to hell," Wilma said, glaring at them. "We can be discussing the condition of our immortal souls later," Shamus said. "Right now, we got other matters of concern." He took Wilma's chin in his hand and turned her head, so she was looking directly at him. "Wilma," he said very firmly, "Paul's going to be asking ye some questions. I order that ye answer them truthfully and completely. Do ye understand?" Wilma's eyes narrowed in anger. "Yes, I... I underst-stand." "Your turn, Paul." Shamus said. "Okay, Wilma, do you know where Jessie is headed?" "No," Wilma said hesitantly, not wanting to answer. "N-Not for certain." "Why not?" "There's a lot of places she... could be going?" "Try asking where she _thinks_ Jessie might be going?" Shamus suggested. "Good idea, Wilma, where in Arizona do you think Jessie is headed?" "I... I don't know." She was trying to fight Shamus' order. "We... she don't know Arizona too... good." "You don't? What do you mean?" "The first time we was ever in... this here territory was when we r-rode in to Eerie from New Mexico to g-get the Sheriff." Paul jumped on what sounded like a solid hint. "So then you think she's heading back to New Mexico?" "No... no, I don't." "Why not? Why wouldn't she ride back to a place that she knows?" "'Cause she ain't gonna want to admit what... happened to her. There's fellas in Santa Fe'd laugh their fool heads off to hear that Jesse Hanks got changed into a little bit of a gal. And there's a whole 'nuther bunch'd be looking to settle some old scores." She shivered at the last, just for a moment. Paul nodded grimly. He could imagine the sort of scores... and how the men involved would want to settle things. "Then where do you think she would go?" "M-Mexico, maybe... or California. Some place with a lot a people where she'd be harder to find." "Anything else you'd like to tell me?" Wilma's mouth curled into a wicked grin. "Oh, I got a _lotta_ things I'd _like_ to tell you, you son of a --" "That'll be enough," Shamus said quickly. "Wilma, ye can be going back to the dishes now and I don't want ye to be saying another word till ye're done." Wilma tried to answer, but couldn't. She nodded and did as she was told. "Not too much more to go on," Paul said glumly. "I sure hope that _was_ her trail I found up at Toby's place." "I'm sure ye'll be finding the trail," Shamus said, "and Jessie -- eventually. I just wonder about one thing, though." "What's that, Shamus?" "Me potion should still be working, still making her follow my orders. Only I told her she couldn't escape -- and she did, somehow. I'm wondering about me order not to be hurting people and if she's done figured out some way around that one, as well?" "You think she has?" "No, Jessie's a smart lass, sneaky, too. I don't think she can beat it -- not completely -- but she's like to be trying _something_, I've no doubt o' that." "Probably," Paul said. "I just hope she doesn't hurt herself... or anyone else, of course." Shamus' eyebrow went up. "Now just why would it be bothering ye so much if that pretty little lass went and got hurt?" Paul saw the barman's face widen into a teasing grin. "Go to hell, you damned, crazy