The Outlaws: Jess Read online

  The Outlaws: Jess

  Title Page

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  About the Author

  The Outlaws: Jess

  by Connie Mason

  Copyright 2011 by Connie Mason

  Smashwords Edition

  Prologue

  Dodge City, Kansas 1868

  With a heavy heart, Jess watched his brothers ride off in different directions. It was his fault his brothers were now outlaws with a posse breathing down their necks. If Jess had admitted to Mr. Wingate that the baby the banker's daughter, Delia, was expecting could be his, he and his brother wouldn't have been falsely accused of bank robbery.

  Guilt rode heavily upon Jess's shoulders. He hadn't wanted to be tied down with a wife he didn't love and a child that might or might not be his. Delia Wingate wasn't a bad girl, just a misguided one. She would make some man a good wife, but he wasn't that man.

  When Wingate had offered him and his brother the loan they so desperately needed to save their farm, he'd added a stipulation. One of the brothers had to marry his pregnant daughter. Since the Gentry brother were of one accord when it came to being forced into marriage, they had strenuously objected and left the bank in a huff.

  The situation had abruptly changed when Wingate had taken exception to their refusal and accused them of robbing his bank after they had taken their leave. That false claim had sent them fleeing for their lives. And all because Jess hadn't spoken up. He should have admitted bedding Delia. But he knew he hadn't been the only one.

  Jess prayed hard for his brothers' safety. Had they eluded the posse? When they split up, Rafe had headed West, Sam South, and he had ridden North, all the way to Wyoming territory. But no matter how hard he tried to dispel his fear, it was entrenched firmly beside his guilt. He'd never forgive himself if anything happened to his brothers.

  Jess had to wait a whole year to learn his brothers' fate. They had agreed to meet at the Antlers Hotel in Denver a year from the day they had parted. Meanwhile, Jess could only hope and pray nothing happened to them in the interim. If one of his brothers failed to show up at the appointed time, he'd never be able to forgive himself.

  All three Gentry brothers had survived the war. Their father had not. And their mother died shortly after their jubilant homecoming. Unfortunately the family farm had suffered in their absence. Draught had ruined crops three years in a row and raiders had taken their toll. A bank loan had been their only hope of salvaging what was left of the homestead. A loan that banker Wingate had refused to extend without a wife and unborn child thrown into the deal.

  Jess still couldn't believe what had happened. An outlaw. Jess Gentry, the best damn doctor in the Confederate army. He had returned to Kansas with the idea of hanging out his shingle and practicing the profession he so loved. But Kansans were an unforgiving lot. They could neither forgive nor forget that the Gentry's had fought on the losing side when Kansas had opted to join the Union in their cause against slavery.

  But the Gentry's were true to their roots. Originally from Tennessee, they had remained Southern sympathizers and ultimately joined the Confederate cause.

  When Jess hung out his shingle, not one patient showed up. In fact, threats were made on his life. Hotheaded Sam was all for finding the culprits and punishing them. But the older, more levelheaded Rafe had calmed him down. The result was that Jess couldn't practice medicine in Dodge.

  Now here he was, far from home in Wyoming territory, with no idea what the future held for him or his brothers.

  Chapter One

  Wyoming Territory 1868

  Jess Gentry reined his weary horse into a stand of cottonwood trees lining the banks of the Lodgepole River and dismounted. Lines of exhaustion etched his handsome features. Except during those war years, when his medical skills were needed twenty-four hours a day, he couldn't recall when he'd been this tired.

  Jess unsaddled his gelding and tethered him to a tree, well within reach of sweet grass and water. Dimly he wondered if he dared ride into Cheyenne tomorrow and spend the last of his money on much needed supplies. He felt fairly confident he wouldn't be recognized; it was far too soon for wanted posters for his arrest to reach Wyoming territory.

  Jess stretched his weary bones and set about building a fire from dry wood and kindling he found nearby. Once the fire had caught, he rifled through his dwindling sack of supplies for the battered coffeepot he'd picked up in some nameless northwest Kansas border town. With dragging steps he walked down to the river and filled the pot with water. He produced a nearly empty sack of coffee, dumped it into the water, and set the pot on the fire to boil.

  While he waited for the coffee, he found some beef jerky, a dry biscuit, and a single can of beans. He opened the beans with his knife and placed his dinner on the ground beside a battered tin plate and bent tin cup.

  Almost too weary to eat, Jess leaned back against his saddle and sucked appreciatively on the freshly brewed coffee. It was just the way he liked it. Hot and murky. Strong enough to curl his toes. He closed his eyes and savored the hot liquid as it passed through his gullet and settled in his stomach like a welcome blast of heat on a cold winter day.

  Unwelcome images appeared behind Jess's closed eyelids. The war. The dead. The horrible stench of mutilated flesh. Flesh he'd tried to repair but didn't always succeed. Men died. Young men with beardless faces, looking to him with hope-filled eyes to save them. Older men with hardened visages, hoping for miracles but too battle scarred to expect one.

  God, war is so senseless, Jess thought with a sigh. In his own capacity he had served the Confederacy proudly, saving men who would have died without his skills. In the end, the Confederacy had been demolished, never to rise again, but Jess knew his skills would always be needed.

  Jess was very nearly asleep when he heard someone approaching his campsite. Abruptly sluggishness fell away, replaced by wary caution as he drew his gun and waited, his body tense and alert.

  Two men rode up to the perimeter of the campsite and dismounted.

  "Howdy, pilgrim," one of the men greeted. "Smelled your coffee a mile away. Mind if we join ya?"

  "I only have one cup, and I'm using it," Jess hedged, none too eager to welcome the rough looking men into his camp. Each wore a week's worth of beard and smelled of beer and stale perfume, the kind preferred by whores.

  "We have our own cups," the man said.

  "In that case, help yourselves," Jess replied, slapping his gun back in his holster.

  "Much obliged. You from around here?"

  "No, I'm from Kansas."

  "Kansas, huh. Me and Lucky visited Kansas a while back. The name's Calder, Jay Caulder. This here's my brother Lucky."

  "You're the infamous Calder brothers!" Jess blurted out before he could stop himself. The Calder brothers had robbed a bank in Topeka a few months ago and killed a man. But he'd heard there were three brothers, not two.

  Jay poked his brother in the ribs. "What do ya know? The pilgrim's heard of us." He gave Jess an assessing glance. "You have the look of a man on the run yourself."

  "You could say that," Jess said cryptically. He wasn't about to admit anything to these hardened outlaws.

  "W
ell, well, birds of a feather," Lucky guffawed. "What's your handle, pilgrim?"

  "Jess will do."

  Jay retrieved two tin cups from his saddlebags, filled them with coffee, and handed one to Lucky. Then they sprawled cross-legged on the ground, rolled cigarettes, and smoked and drank.

  "I heard there were three Calder brothers," Jess ventured.

  Jay's mouth turned downward into a fierce scowl. "We buried Danny yesterday. He took a bullet during a bank robbery we pulled in Cheyenne two days ago. Thought he was gonna be okay but he bled to death before we could get him to a doctor we trusted. Damn shame. He was the baby of the family. Don't know how we're gonna explain this to Ma. Promised her we'd look after him."

  They drank in silence, the Calders mourning their younger brother and Jess wondering how in the hell he was going to get out of this with his skin intact.

  A gentle breeze stirred the air as the figure garbed in unrelieved black crouched unseen behind a cottonwood tree. So stealthy was the mysterious figure's approach that neither Jess nor the Calders was aware of being watched. Hat pulled low over a face obscured by darkness, the watching stranger drew and cocked a pair of lethal looking six shooters.

  While the three men were relaxed and inattentive, the intruder emerged from the darkness beyond the campsite and boldly stepped into the circle of flickering firelight with both guns drawn.

  Jess and the Calders jumped to their feet, each man reaching for his gun.

  "Freeze. Hands over your heads. Make one move for your guns and I'll shoot. Dead or alive, it makes no difference to me."

  The voice was low, throaty, almost feral.

  "A goddamn bounty hunter," Jay spat. "Where in the hell did you come from?"

  "I'm here, that's all that matters. Drop your gunbelts. Bringing in all three Calders at once is a bonus I hadn't counted on."

  "Now hold on a minute," Jess blustered. "I'm not a Calder."

  The bounty hunter's eyes slid in his direction, skewering him with a contemptuous glare. "Shut up. You and your brothers killed a bank guard in Cheyenne two days ago. I don't care who did it, you're all guilty."

  "But I'm not..."

  "Drop your guns," the bounty hunter repeated. "Real nice and easy. When Jay was slow to act, the bounty hunter aimed a shot so precise that it nicked Jay's ear.

  "Owwww!" Jay yowled, clapping a hand over his ear. "You didn't need to go and do that."

  "Then do as I say."

  The voice was so coldly challenging that Jess gave an involuntary shiver. He unbuckled his gunbelt and let it drop. Lucky followed suit, so did Jay. The bounty hunter walked more fully into the light, revealing a tall slim figure clad in unrelieved black. Trousers that hugged hips far too slim to belong to a man, baggy shirt tucked into the waistband spanning a narrow waist, and black hat that concealed nearly every facial feature but for startling green eyes.

  "You," the bounty hunter said, nodding at Jess. "Get your rope and tie up your brothers. Don't try anything funny if you value your life."

  Jess bent to retrieve his rope from his saddle and gingerly approached Lucky, intending to tie him first. The bounty hunter was too trigger happy for his liking and he wasn't going to do anything to rile him. Later the authorities would discover the mistake and all would be well. Unless, of course, they had somehow learned that Jess Gentry was a wanted man.

  Suddenly all hell broke loose. From somewhere in his clothing Lucky produced a small pistol. The bounty hunter realized the danger and got off a shot at the same time Lucky fired. Jess watched in abject horror as both shots hit their mark. To Jess it appeared as if it happened in slow motion. Lucky did a slow spiral to the ground, a blossom of red spreading beneath his shoulder. The bounty hunter let out an unmanly, high-pitched scream and pitched forward.

  Jay fell to his knees beside his brother at the same time Jess ran to the bounty hunter.

  "He's alive!" Jay crowed. "Ya ain't gonna die like Danny, are ya, Lucky?"

  "Get me to a doctor," Lucky gasped, holding his wounded shoulder. "That damn bounty hunter shot me."

  "I know," Jay bit out. "I'll take care of him. We gotta get you to a doctor pronto."

  He glanced over at Jess, who had turned over the bounty hunter and was feeling for a pulse. "Is the bastard dead?" Jay asked.

  Jess was on the verge of lying to save the bounty hunter's life. Unfortunately the bounty hunter chose that moment to emit a loud groan.

  "He's still alive!" Jay spat. "Kill him, pilgrim. If you don't, I will."

  Jay scrabbled on the ground for his gunbelt and drew out a gun, turning it on the bounty hunter. Jess knew he had to think fast and act faster if he hoped to save the bounty hunter's life.

  "I'll do it," Jess said, reaching for his gunbelt.

  Jay gave Jess a hard look, then turned back to his brother. Jess stood and aimed his gun several inches wide of the bounty hunter's head. Abruptly the bounty hunter opened eyes as green as grass and stared up at him. Jess's hand faltered.

  "What's keeping ya," Jay called out. "Are ya too chicken to kill a man? Should I come there and do it myself?"

  "No, take care of your brother. Press on the wound to stop the bleeding. I can do this."

  "Make it fast. I ain't leaving until I know the bastard's dead."

  Those unwavering green eyes were still focused on him. He saw neither fear nor pleading in their startling depths. What he recognized was acceptance, and perhaps regret.

  "Close your eyes and don't move," Jess whispered, hoping the bounty hunter had the presence of mind to realize what he intended.

  Holding his hand steady, he fired into the ground scant inches from the bounty hunter's head. Then he immediately dropped to his knees and smeared blood from the previous wound onto the bounty hunter's head, making it appear as if Jess's shot had been a fatal one.

  "Is the bastard dead?" Jay called out.

  "Can't get any deader," Jess replied.

  Jay gave the bounty hunter a cursory glance. "Good. I gotta get Lucky to the doc. Why don't ya join us? We could use another gun."

  "Reckon I'll have to decline," Jess replied. "Always been a loner. Go on, get your brother to a doctor before he bleeds to death."

  "Yeah, you're right. If I were you I'd hightail it away from Cheyenne before the body is found."

  The tense silence nearly got the best of Jess as he watched Jay hoist a swaying Lucky up into his saddle. By some miracle Lucky kept his seat and the two outlaws rode off. It couldn't have been too soon to suit Jess. He turned back to the bounty hunter, praying it wasn't too late to save his life as he dropped to his knees, noting that the bounty hunter's eyes were closed.

  Jess lifted the man's shoulders so he could peel off his vest. He stared in mute disbelief as the man's hat fell off, releasing a cloud of long black hair. Resisting the obvious conclusion, Jess refused to believe what his eyes were telling him.

  Carefully he removed the bounty hunter's leather vest. With shaking fingers he unbuttoned the black shirt, revealing a blood-soaked camisole trimmed in dainty lace. He stared in disbelief and no little amount of dismay.

  What in the hell. A woman!

  Never in his life had Jess encountered anything so ridiculously absurd. Women belonged at home, raising children, cooking, and seeing to their husband's needs, not traipsing around the countryside packing guns and chasing outlaws. The profusion of blood spreading over the woman's right breast turned Jess's thoughts to more important matters. It wasn't for him to judge another human being; his mission in life was to heal people.

  Focused now on saving a life, Jess retrieved his black medical bag that never left his sight and returned to the wounded woman. He used his scalpel to cut away the bloodied shift, concentrating on the gaping wound instead of the most perfect pair of breasts Jess had ever seen on a woman. Milky white mounds topped with pert, rosy hued nipples.

  Reaching once more into his bag, Jess uncorked a bottle of carbolic acid and poured it over his hands. Then he probed the wound with his fi
nger. The woman moaned and opened her eyes.

  "Don't...touch...me..." Her voice was riddled with pain.

  "I'm not going to hurt you. The bullet has to come out. I have some laudanum in my bag that should help dull the pain."

  "Don't...touch...me..." she repeated through clenched teeth.

  "Look, lady," he explained gently, "it's either I remove the bullet or you die. Those are your only options, and there's no time to waste. You've lost a lot of blood."

  Vivid, pain-filled green eyes bored into him. "Your brothers..."

  "They aren't my brothers and they're gone." He reached into his bag for the laudanum. "Are you going to cooperate or do I have to pour this down your throat?"

  She pressed her lips together and gave him a belligerent glare.

  Jess sighed. He was so damn weary; he shouldn't have to deal with this. Uncapping the laudanum, he held it to the woman's lips. When she refused to drink, he pinched her nostrils until her mouth opened, then he poured a generous dose down her throat.

  She shuddered, gagged, and swallowed. Satisfied, Jess sat back on his haunches and laid out his instruments on a white cloth he'd brought forth from the depths of his bag. Then he poured carbolic acid over the lot. By the time he built up the fire to provide sufficient light for the surgery and turned back to his patient, she had fallen under the spell of the laudanum.

  "Good," Jess said to himself as he reached for the scalpel. He didn't want to hurt her any more than he had to.

  Jess studied the wound before probing for the bullet. The bullet had entered two inches below her shoulder, just above her right breast, missing the lung by a hairbreadth. His concentration was so intense that beads of sweat dotted his forehead and ran into his eyes. His hand was steady as the scalpel bit into flesh and hit lead. Jess's relief was profound as he eased the bullet out. The rush of blood that followed worried him and he exerted pressure until the bleeding slowed to a trickle.