"Who is it, Daddy?"

Ennis heard the tremor in Alma Junior's voice and saw the fear in her round face. He wiped sweat from his brow with his sleeve and squinted at the horizon. The cloud of dust resolved into the lone figure of a man on a horse. "Don't reckon it could be one a Newsome's," he said. "They come in packs."

Alma Junior shivered. Three months ago, a gang from Newsome's spread had ridden into the yard of the small Del Mar ranch. Led by foreman Joe Aguirre, the men had torn around the sod-roofed cabin, firing their guns and hollering like savages. Ennis had sent his girls inside as soon as he'd heard hoof beats, but they'd seen one of bastards shoot at the henhouse and hit their mama instead. Ennis had burned with impotent rage as he chased the sons a bitches with the very mattock he held in his hands right now. He'd felt the desire to bust heads instead of sod, and at Alma's insistence, spoken with her dying breath, he'd spent half the night on his knees praying for forgiveness. Since he wasn't sincere in his remorse, he doubted any grace had been granted.

Alma now lay under the soil she'd hoped to make fertile, buried at a sad little funeral attended by five. None but Parson Malone and his young wife had come to mourn with the Del Mars. Ennis's outraged visit to Sheriff Monroe had finally convinced the farmer that Boss Newsome owned the entire town of Childress, Texas and everyone in it.

"Go on," Ennis said. "Git in the house, girls."

Alma scurried away like a small brown hen, herding Jenny ahead of her. Ennis stood at the split rail fence and watched the stranger approach. He could see now that the man was slumped in the saddle, and the reins were slack against the horse's neck. Looked as though the animal had simply carried its rider to the nearest water. "Whoa there, little darlin'," Ennis said under his breath as he reached for the bridle. The mare stopped and the man on her back slid sideways in the saddle. Ennis caught him with one arm as the horse stood still as stone. Impressed by the animal's lack of skittishness, Ennis dropped the reins to the ground and lowered the stranger down next to the trailing ends of the leather. Sitting back on his heels, Ennis noticed the wet patch on the ragged red shirt and looked at his hands. He wiped the blood on the other man's sleeve and pulled open the shirt. The stranger's side was bruised storm cloud purple, but there was no sign of a wound. Ennis poked the man in the ribs and watched his eyes fly open.

"Shee-it! That hurts like fire," the stranger said breathlessly. "What the hell're ya doin'?"

"Fell off a your horse in my yard."

"Sorry t' inconvenience ya. Got any water? I'm dry as a ninety year old virgin."

Ennis's lips tightened at the vulgarity, but he went to the pump and brought back a dipper of water. He held it out and the stranger tried taking it, but his grip was too weak and he spilled it all down his front. Ennis filled the dipper again and held it to the man's mouth.

"Much obliged," the stranger wheezed. "Name's Jack."

"Anymore to that?"

"Naw, just Jack's good enough for the likes a me. You reckon I need a doctor?"

Ennis glanced at the other man's well-worn clothing. It didn't match the horse. The mare was a bright-eyed, finely conformed piece of horseflesh and Ennis was beginning to suspect that she was stolen. He sure didn't want anything to do with a horse thief. In territory where your life could depend on a good mount, horse theft was a hanging offense. Ennis knew from bitter experience that it was far more serious than killing an innocent woman. Reluctantly, he offered the Christian charity that Alma would have insisted on. "I can git ya fit to ride, and ya can be on your way."

"Thank ya, mister…"

"Del Mar," Ennis said curtly as he stood and hauled Jack to his feet. "Junior," he called out as he half-carried, half-dragged the other man to the cabin. The door swung open and Alma Junior peered out, her eyes solemn. When she realized the stranger was hurt, she hurried to help her daddy get him inside. With patience beyond her years, the little girl helped bind Jack's midsection. It was her idea to bring him a piece of cornbread.

"Much obliged, ma'am," Jack said, inclining his head to the little girl. "Mighty hungry." Jack was starving, but he ate the bread slowly, thanking Alma Junior again when she brought him a cup of water. "Nice place ya got here."

Ennis snorted. "I don't care much for liars, mister."

"Well, it sure could be nice. Just needs some fixin' up. Reckon your missus has got her hands full."

"She's dead," Ennis said, glancing over at Alma Junior washing Jenny's face.

"I'm real sorry to hear that. Say, would there be any chance ya needed a hand 'round here?"

Ennis shook his head. "We git along just fine."

"Ain't sayin' ya wouldn't. Just offerin'. And for a man that don't like liars, you sure are tellin' a big 'un. Ya need help and ya know it."

"Don't make no difference whut I want. Cain't pay nuthin'."

"Then this is a lucky day for both a us. I'm willin' to work for a place to lay down at night and enough food to keep body and soul together." Jack could see the struggle in the other man's face, but necessity won out over inclination.

"I'll try ya," Ennis said. "But if I don't like ya, ya better clear off fast."

Jack spit in his palm and stuck out his hand. After a brief hesitation, Ennis shook it, letting go almost immediately. Jack gave him an inquiring look, but the other man turned away to resume his chores without a word. In a few minutes, Jack hauled himself to his feet and went to find the stone-faced farmer, watching silently until he caught on and then pitching right in. Ennis didn't protest, nor did he make Jack feel particularly welcome, just kept on working like he would have done if he'd been alone. And so it went for days that became weeks: they rose with the sun, ate the cold hoecakes left over from the last night's supper, went out and worked side by side until Alma Jr. found them with a pot of beans, went back to work until the sun went down, ate food they were too tired to taste and were asleep as soon as they lay down. Ennis never asked one question about how Jack came to be hurt, or anything else for that matter. Nothing much changed until the day Pastor Malone stopped by to see how the Del Mars were doing and why they hadn't been to church in so long.

Jack looked up from the hoecakes he was making under Junior's instruction. Going to the doorway of the cabin, he watched the horse and buggy come to a stop in the farmyard as Ennis walked out of the barn. A big man, as big as Del Mar, got out, dusting off the knees of his black suit with his hat. From a distance, there wasn't much to choose between the two men for height or reach, and they had similar coloring, but even though Ennis was leaner, he somehow had more weight than the visitor, seemed more solid-like. Jack strained to overhear the conversation outside and Ennis made it abruptly easier by raising his voice.

"I done told you, Pastor; I ain't joinin' up with ya."

"We need everyone," Malone said. "If we all stand together…"

"Where were ya all standin' when they killed Alma, huh?"

"We have to make sure that kind of thing doesn't happen again. That's why we're getting together to talk. Just come to the parsonage Friday night and…"

"Forgit it. Now git on out a here before ya bring more trouble on me. Already lost a wife over this; don't want a lose my girls.

Jack turned quickly back to the hearth as Ennis walked away from the preacher without saying good-bye. Randall Malone shook his head in frustration and got back into his buggy. Jack glanced up from stirring the pot of beans hanging over the fire, as Ennis came in and sat down. It was the first time Jack had seen the hard working farmer sit down during daylight. As Jack returned his attention to seeing that the cornbread didn't burn, out of the corner of his eye he saw Ennis slump forward. The stoic man dropped his head in his hands and covered his face. Junior and Jenny hovered, obviously wanting to comfort their father, but they didn't approach him. Catching Junior's eye, Jack motioned her and her sister over to the fireplace. Putting his arms around the girls, he hugged them briefly before letting go.

"Reckon your daddy misses your mama somethin' awful," he said softly.

"He's always sad," Jenny confided with a lisp, subsiding at Junior's sharp look.

"It's all right," Jack said. "Ain't nothin' wrong with missin' her, or bein' sad about it."

"I know," Junior said. "But we cain't be cryin' all the time. Too much work to do."

The little girl sounded so much like her father that Jack's hostage heart thawed a little with a twinge that made him wince. "We're friends ain't we, Alma Junior?"

She smiled shyly. Truth was, she thought Jack was the handsomest man, besides her daddy, that she'd ever seen. He had the biggest, bluest eyes, and the brightest smile, and he would get out his harmonica and sing songs with her and Jenny for as long as they wanted. Jack never said she was being foolish, and often acted foolish himself, blowing on that old harp even though he couldn't play anymore than she could. "I reckon we are," she said.

"Good," Jack smiled. "It's important t' me that we're friends."

"Me, too," she said, her cheeks pink as she pulled her hand from his and went back to stir the beans. Jenny trailed behind Junior, clutching her rag doll with one hand and a fold of her sister's skirt with the other. Jack rose and went to the table. Taking a deep breath, he did what he thought best, though it was going to be hard on everybody and the furniture.

"Well now," he drawled. "Looky here. Ain't this a sad sight?" Ennis blinked and looked up as Jack continued. "That all it takes t' break ya, Del Mar? The death a one woman? Hell, I had lots a folks die on me and I'm still kickin'." Jack saw a spark flare in the farmer's dark eyes, igniting the coals that smoldered there. "Ya look kinda mad," he said. "Guess ya can still feel somethin' after all. So why ya settin' on your behind like a whipped pup?"

"You want a shut your mouth, mister, or I'll shut it for ya." Ennis didn't raise his voice; he lowered it and bass rumble resonated in Jack's groin.

"Them's big words from a man that ain't even got up on his hind legs yet."

"I done told you to shut it."

"Heard ya," Jack replied. "Ya don't say much but I do recollect that particular phrase."

"Ain't gonna warn ya again."

"Let's make sure. Ennis Del Mar, you are a sorry excuse for a man and a yellah…" Jack's words ended in mid-sentence as Ennis launched himself from his chair. Jack was prepared, but even so, Ennis's charge knocked him off his feet and out the front door. They hit the ground in a tangle of long limbs, Ennis pulling back his fist for a punch, Jack wrapping his arms tightly around Ennis's ribcage. Jack surged up and Ennis's blow struck the ground beside Jack's head as they rolled over. Ennis's speed caught Jack by surprise and the next jabbing punch tagged him high on his right cheekbone. Jack fell onto his side, his knee coming up as Ennis's head came down. Kneecap and nose collided in a spray of red and effectively cut off Ennis's air supply. He reeled back, swallowing the blood that ran down the back of his throat.

"Shit!" Jack exclaimed, scrambling up and trying to staunch the bleeding with his sleeve. Ennis pushed him away with a stiff forearm and Jack dropped onto his ass in a puff of dust. Getting to his feet, Ennis headed for the pump. Jack glanced toward the door of the cabin and waved the girls back inside as he went after the other man. Pulling the bandanna from around his neck, Jack dipped it in the trough and wrung it out. Ennis took the cloth away from him and held it to his nose, tipping his back, cutting his eyes at Jack. "Sorry," Jack said, rubbing his cheek. "Ya got me purty good if it makes ya feel better."

Ennis's brows drew down. "You crazy," he said in a thick voice.

"That's the opinion a most folks I run across, but ain't it good t' git your blood stirrin'?"

"Feather-brained, mule-headed, woods-colt," Ennis muttered as he walked away.

Jack hurried after him, stopping him before he reached the cabin. "Pull up on the reins, pard," he said. "Lissen t' me for just a minute; you'll only have t' hear it once. Ya got two girls in there that love ya and you're all they got now. You savvy?"

"They ain't never gonna go hungry," Ennis said angrily.

"That ain't enough. They got a know that their daddy loves 'em back. You lost your wife, but they lost their mama."

"You applyin' for the job?"

Jack blinked. "Mister…" he took a deep breath, hands dropping from his hips, unclenching his fists. "Ya just won't let anybody help ya, will ya?"

"You could help me by gittin' out a my way."

Jack stepped aside and watched as Ennis went into the small house. He held his side, easing the ache of his barely healed ribs as his breathing slowed. It hurt as much as he'd expected it would, but he figured it was worth it if he'd jarred Del Mar out of his daze. If there was one thing Jack Twist knew, it was how badly a child could crave a daddy's love. Shaking off an unwelcome memory, Jack retrieved his hat, holding it in front of his crotch to hide the evidence of his lust for his own kind. He found it more difficult than usual. His body persisted in remembering the feel of Ennis's lean-muscled body and the hard ridge of flesh that had pressed against his lower belly for just an instant when they were grappling. The notion that Ennis had been as roused as he kept Jack awake for some time, listening to the soft breathing of the man that lay an arms length away and of the girls in the loft. Jack smiled wryly into the dark. Things were proceeding as they always did once he was involved: from bad to worse.

Read Chapter Two of Bailey's Boot Hill