Shellie Williams

August 15, 2001

JD's fingers slid dry against cool buttons as he dressed in his room. The early morning felt dark and quiet. His window opened a square of grayness in the brown wall. Brisk streams of air blew in through gingham curtains and fingered through JD's hair, lifting strands from his forehead.

Thoughts of walking into the saloon, smiling at Inez, and breathing in the salty meaty smell of cooking sausage dissipated when someone knocked at his room. The wood rattled as the door vibrated in its frame.

He glanced briefly at his guns where they hung on the straight-backed chair beside his bed. The idea of crossing the room, draping the guns around his hips and buckling the belt seemed to be too much trouble. Two steps took him to the door instead. His warm fingertips melted against the cold ceramic doorknob and a twinge of danger pinched his mind just as he twisted the door open. Should have gotten my guns.

Two men stood in the hall. A wide-brimmed, sweat-stained hat shadowed a dark glare. The second man stood slightly behind the first, pinprick brown circles in his wide-open eyes. The glaring man moved -- the toe of his boot shifted forward -- and JD slammed the door shut. He twisted, reaching across the room, fingers stretching far short of his guns.

The boom of the door slamming open and hitting the wall warned him an instant before hands grabbed his shoulders and pulled him away from his weapons. The grip shifted; the hand shot beneath his armpit, then scooped over his shoulder and gripped the nape of his neck, effectively trapping his left arm. His right arm was caught behind him, sandwiched between his body and his captor's. A burly, coat-sleeved arm snaked around and cinched tight to his waist.

A false calm masked his fright, and his anger bubbled just below the surface. JD caught it and clung to it, ignoring the fear.

"Where is he?"

Sneering at the man through his mask, JD shrugged awkwardly in his attacker's grip. "I don't know." Who the hell are you? What the hell do you want? He drowned the demands, unwilling to unleash his anger. Better to let it smolder and build into an explosion rather than sending out useless smoke signals.

"I know he was with Lizzie last night." The man's forehead crinkled into folds. "I smelled him when I walked in the door."

Like cogs of a machine falling into alignment, JD abruptly knew who the men were and what they wanted -- Abraham Otwell and Lester Hopkins. Otwell's on again/off again romance with Elizabeth Bagert, one of the saloon girls, was a tired piece of gossip around Four Corners. Otwell had been out of town for a week, and apparently Buck had taken up the slack with Lizzie.

JD shrugged again, his resolve a steely clamp on his tongue.

Otwell shifted his feet and his eyes darted around the room. His gaze froze and he reached for the small bowl on JD's dresser. JD cleaned out his pockets every night and filled the bowl with a few coins, his extra keys to the jail, his pocketknife, and a tiny cameo that held his mother's likeness. Little things that jingled as he walked, or he fiddled with in his pockets when he sat or stood around trying not to look awestruck when Buck told him yet another story of a special night with a lady.

Otwell upended the bowl, dumping its contents to the floor. With his eyes on JD, he lifted his boot and brought it down forcibly on the trinkets. The tiny crackling of breaking glass crunched in the sudden silence. The sorrowful loss of the personal memento of his mother beat in his thundering heart, but JD held still and didn't react. His gut told him Otwell had slipped past the line of wounded pride, and had landed in a puddle of dangerous rage. Without a moment to think about it he knew he'd protect Buck, no matter what Otwell broke.

His resolve obviously reflected on his face.

Otwell's frown deepened. "You ain't gonna tell me where the bastard is, are you?" He glanced over JD's head at Hopkins. "I bet he wouldn't tell us if we broke every bone in his skinny body."

"Oh yeah?" Hopkins loosened his hold, probably to test Otwell's theory, but JD took advantage of his freedom and bolted for the window. Hopkins bowled into him from behind like a charging army. The momentum sent them both into the wall, but JD took the brunt of the impact. His chin cracked hard against wood. Teeth cut easily through soft flesh and he immediately tasted blood. His legs weakened beneath him and he sagged against the wall. Before he could convince his bones muscles to work again, Hopkins had him, brawny arms clamped tight around his chest. JD's legs wobbled and his arms swung out wildly when Hopkins manhandled him roughly, adjusting his hold for a tighter grip.

He blinked and the haze around his vision lifted. He watched Otwell step closer. "Where is he?"

JD shrugged again, as casually as if he'd just been asked if he wanted a beer. "I dunno."

His nonchalant attitude infuriated Otwell. The man's lips rolled inward against his teeth. "Guess we'll just have to do this the hard way."

His balled fist hammered into JD's gut. JD closed his eyes with the hit, then opened them and looked at Otwell -- and grinned.

Veins in the man's forehead bulged beneath his skin. With madness rimming his eyes, he scooped in low again, his knuckles cutting into JD's belly like a serrated knife.

JD slumped in Hopkins' hold. His refusal to offer information was obvious.

Otwell apparently recognized the defiance. He shifted back and glanced around the room as if to check if they had an audience. "Let's take this out back--" he gestured with his chin to the door. "We'll have more room to work in the alley."

Hopkins let go and JD melted, heading for the floor. Fists gripped his shoulders and pulled him up before he could fall.

"Let's go, kid," Hopkins ordered and shoved JD forward and out of the room. JD had no choice but to obey.

They left the boarding house and turned directly into the back area behind the building. JD's arms were jerked behind him and his wrists were tied together with rope. He grunted when Hopkins pushed him, forcing him to his knees.

The sun rising in the east behind the boarding house cast long shadows that kept the alleyway in darkness. The mornings' coolness lingered, sheltered in the shadows, and chilled JD. An ominous click sounded. He glanced over his shoulder to find a gun aimed at his head.

Dammit, this is happening too fast! "What are you doin', Otwell? This is crazy!" JD swallowed and nearly coughed because of the dryness in his throat. He glanced up at Hopkins and saw the nervous insanity of a man caught where he didn't want to be. "Someone's gonna hear the gun -- you don't wanna do this!"

Obviously undaunted by JD's warning, Otwell stepped closer. JD turned to face forward, unnerved with the gun barrel that seemed ready to pierce through his skull.

"I don't know nothin'." Air rushed through him and he felt his heart surge painfully in his chest. "Please -- don't do this."

No wavery apology answered his plea. A gun fired in the next instant, and JD jerked in reaction, certain he'd feel his head explode. Instead, Otwell toppled like a felled tree and landed beside him in the dirt. Hopkins' feet shuffled, then he fled. In a daze, JD watched Buck hurry to him from around the building's corner. He heard Chris' voice raised to override Hopkins' yells in the distance; obviously Larabee had caught the escaping criminal.

Buck reached for him and helped him to his feet. Cold steel slid between his wrists and the rope fell away. "You all right?"

He nodded, still not sure he wasn't the one dead. "Yeah."

Buck looked him over, his gaze critical as he moved in front of him. "What the hell did he want?"

"You."

The answer surprised Buck, his eyes lifted high on his forehead. "Why didn't you tell him where I was?"

JD shrugged and looked down at his hands. He rubbed his wrists where the rope had pinched his skin. "Because I thought --" Abruptly the idea that he'd been protecting Buck from certain death didn't seem so certain. Otwell was a stupid drunk who'd talked himself into fighting Buck for Lizzie. He probably wouldn't have done anything worse than scare him, and JD suddenly felt very foolish. "I thought he was gonna hurt you." He kept his eyes down, waiting for the laughter. When he couldn't stand the silence any longer he lifted his head. He found Buck watching him, his eyes squinted, his lips pressed together, an altogether serious expression aging his face.

"Thanks for protecting me, JD."

Relief spread warm and slow through JD. He smiled and nodded, shrugging off the compliment. "That's what friends are for."

Buck reached and touched his chin. His finger came away red. "Let's get you cleaned up."

They walked out of the shadows into the sunlight.

The End