Chapter 2

Chapter Two

M ack tossed Cal his Kadah before they got into town. It was a weird custom that humans were so oddly private about human anatomy, yet they didn't care about his cock and balls when he was in horse form. Cal understood it, since he had been around humans since he was a colt, but he never failed to find it amusing. He tossed the Kadah around him and fastened it, waiting until their prisoner was unloaded off his back before shifting down into his smaller, bipedal, human shape.

The locals were already starting to gather as they hauled the man inside, and Cal lamented that he'd have to address them in his state of undress but didn't want everyone crowding into the damn jailhouse after them. He stepped out in front of the building before he could set foot inside and walked up to the gathering townsfolk.

"Is that one of the Iron Bandits, Sheriff?"

"Just the one? They got away?"

"How many were there, Cal? Everyone alright?"

"Are we safe?"

Cal held up his hands, and everyone calmed down. "We're safe. They aren't going to come for this one. They left him behind during the fight. Everyone's alright. Sky got a bullet in the shoulder, but he'll be fine."

Elliot was making his way politely through the crowd and stepped past Cal with a nod, holding his doctor's bag and supplies in his arms. Cal put his hands on his hips, painfully aware that the breeze was moving his Kadah around and felt eyes on his skin. He didn't mind the attention and had no issues with people seeing him as naked as the day he was born but knew it caused their respect and view of him to shift slightly.

Even in his human form, Cal was bigger than most. Centaurs in general were bigger than humans, so he was used to towering over common folk or only needing to peer down a little for the taller stalk. Humans told him his whole life that he was a beast, that his hair had the texture of a horse even when he was walking two-legged, and that he had a habit of looking like a disgruntled ass.

That was more what Mack said than the general population. But Mack wasn't scared of him.

He straightened his spine and rolled his shoulders back just so, then looked over the crowd and dropped his voice to a serious tone. "I'm sending word that we have one of the Iron Bandits here for transport. He'll be retrieved and taken to trial. No one is to come in contact with him. He's not a sideshow. He's a prisoner and dangerous. Are we clear?"

With their respect and views shifting back into place from his command, they nodded and all mumbled "yes, sirs" in his direction. Slowly, everyone departed once they realized Cal wasn't going to humor them with any more questions. He made his way into the station to see Elliot in the process of patching everyone up. The dark-skinned doctor was a lighter coffee shade than Sky, his hair just as ink black but wound tight in curls. He always kept it pulled back into a bun that seemed somehow still proper in its controlled chaos.

Sky sat with his eyes closed as the doctor stitched his wound closed after having cleaned it. The prisoner sat tied up and dirty behind bars in the small cell they had built into the building. Blood was soaked through his left sleeve from the angry bite of a passing bullet in his shoulder, but he could stand to wait a bit longer.

Cal made quick work of getting himself dressed, not wanting to question their new prisoner while practically nude. When he turned to face him, the man's eyes were trained on him like he was hunting his meal, and a phantom chill ran up his spine.

"What's your name?" Cal asked the man, watching him carefully.

"Jesse."

"You got a last name, Jesse?"

"Afraid not. Can I ask you something, Sheriff?"

"No."

"I've never met a Centaur before. Heard plenty of stories about your kin in the war though. My daddy told me about how you'd ride in with rifles and axes. Y'all really carry axes?"

"He's a lively one all of a sudden," Mack commented with a snort. "You forget you're under arrest for armed robbery and murder, kid?"

" Murder? " Jesse laughed. "I didn't kill anyone."

"The Iron Bandits are responsible for four dead people from four different robberies. That means you are charged with four murders." Cal leaned on the bars with his shoulder.

"That wasn't 'cause of me." Jesse's eyes were wide. "I was just the one who stopped the conductors. Jeb is the one who killed those folks."

"Jeb's not here," Cal pointed out. "You are."

"And someone's gotta answer for it, kid. That's you." Mack made a ticking sound with his tongue and shook his head. "Downfalls of running with a pack of thieves."

"That hardly seems right." Jesse's face settled into a scowl, his handsome features uglying slightly as he did. Cal couldn't deny the man was easy on the eyes, even if he was covered in dirt and blood. His brown hair was light, threatening on turning a dark blond in the sun, and his eyes were the color of whiskey and swam with mischief. He was all muscle wrapped over a lithe frame, wiry but packed solid. Stubble from being out riding for days covered his jaw and framed his full lips. The man seemed keenly aware that his smile could be used as a weapon.

"You'll have a chance to say your piece at your trial, but I doubt a judge is going to see four people dead and you pleading innocent as 'right.'" Cal shrugged his big shoulders lazily. "But who knows."

"Well, I'm saying for the record, I didn't kill anyone." Jesse sat heavily on the cot in his cell, leaning against the stone wall and stretching his legs out as much as the small space allowed.

"You shot Sky in the damn shoulder," Cody said, clearly quite nettled. "That's attempted murder."

"Boy, if I wanted to kill that man, I would have. I shot his shoulder 'cause he was shooting at me, and I took him down. No hard feelings there, Sky. Just business." Jesse tilted over to the side to see around Cal's frame at the stoic Native behind him. As expected, Sky didn't respond.

"Boy? You're the same age as me!"

"I doubt it. I'm just young at heart," Jesse shot back with a wink.

"You're a damn addle-headed—" Cody started, his blue eyes starting to flare. Cal cleared his throat loudly to cow the kid back in line, which he did with a guilty glance. With the room quieted down again, Cal took back control of the conversation.

"Give us your last name, and we can contact your family for you."

"That's right kind of you, Sheriff, but not necessary."

"Suit yourself." Cal shrugged, glancing over as Elliot finished up with Sky's wounds and stood. Cal opened the cell door and walked inside, hand resting on his pistol strapped to his hip. Jesse watched him easily, seemingly calm and too relaxed for Cal's liking.

"Mack's going to untie you, and you're going to sit still while the doctor patches up your arm. You move or do anything stupid, I'm gonna put more lead in your limbs and let that arm of yours fester and fall off. We clear?"

"We're clear, Sheriff."

Mack moved into the cell and cut him loose while Cal stood his ground, ready to pull his gun if needed. Elliot parked his bag next to the cot and had Jesse take his ripped and bloody shirt off to gain access to the wound. The fabric stuck painfully to his soaked and tender skin. Jesse's whiskey eyes connected with Cal's as he pulled his shirt off, exposing the firm, tan skin beneath. Cal wondered if the man was trying to intimidate him by staring him down as he removed his linen. The look in the man's eyes along with the slow exposure of his warm skin had Cal's thoughts spiraling quickly into the area of indecent.

Cal was annoyed with himself that it took all he had not to reach down and adjust himself as he schooled his features to remain bored and unaffected.

I'm going to have to take Scarlet up on that offer soon.

It didn't take Elliot long to get the man situated, and he quickly retreated back around to the right side of the bars before Cal locked Jesse inside.

"Keep the wound clean, and he'll be fine. How long until the marshal comes to pick him up?" Elliot asked as he glanced back behind him at Jesse.

"Shouldn't be more than a couple days. I'm sending word out tomorrow."

"Sheriff?" Gunner leaned in. "Seb's causing a scene in the middle of the town again."

"Ah, hell. It's not even four o'clock yet!" Cal scrubbed a hand over his face and growled. "Mack, you got this covered?"

"I got it, Cal. I don't think he's going anywhere anytime soon." Mack chuckled, thumping down in the chair behind the desk. "Give Seb my regards."

Cal grabbed his hat off the desk and tucked it back onto his head, welcoming the excuse to breathe some air and put some distance between himself and Jesse. The man's eyes seemed to sear into his skin and set something burning in his gut, and that's the last goddamn thing he needed right now.

As promised, Seb was singing loudly in the middle of the town, his words a long string of nonsense, each phrase runny due to the alcohol he was soaked in. Everyone was fairly used to the town drunk, and the man had cooled his heels in the jail plenty of times while sobering up enough to go home. Most just thought he was a harmless idiot, but Cal had spent enough time with the man to know the reason he drank and kept himself in a constant stupor.

Honestly, he couldn't blame him.

When Cal came up to him, the man grinned at him with glazed eyes, staggering to the left as he tried to finish his butchered version of a popular bar song.

"Sing with me, Cal!" Seb threw his arms wide, trying to start the next verse.

"Let's go home, Seb. It's a little early for bar songs."

The man made a "pfft" noise and tried to wave him away, but Cal caught him around the shoulders like one would an old friend before Seb could crash into the ground. The townspeople glared or laughed as Cal walked the poor drunken fool back to his small rented room, Seb singing merrily all the way there. Once inside, Cal dumped him onto the small bed that hadn't been made and stepped over the discarded bottles around the floor.

Seb's cheeks were flushed, his wavy hair mussed and half out of the tie he always kept it in, and his long sleeves bunched around his forearms to expose just the tips of the rune lines etched deep into his upper arms. Cal helped the man out of his boots and swung his legs onto the bed, Seb cackling with his arm over his eyes.

"Get some sleep. No more drink tonight."

"I don't wanna sleep, Cal." Seb hiccupped, shaking his head slowly, his laughter gone. "I see him when I sleep."

"I know." Cal sighed deeply, sitting on the dipping mattress next to the broken man. "I'm sorry."

"It wasn't meant to be this way, you know," he whispered. "We were supposed to live happily ever after. Like in the stories."

"I know." Cal mirrored his whisper, watching outside as the afternoon sky pushed its clouds around lazily. If there was a way Cal could help the man find the peace he desperately wanted, he would have moved mountains to do so. But even Centaurs didn't know how to undo death or a bargain with the devil himself. So instead, he pushed Seb's story to the back of his mind and thought about the next steps on dealing with the bandit he had locked in his jailhouse. He was going to have to keep his mind sharp for this one because it was too tough to reel his lonely mind away from desperate thoughts around the beautiful outlaw.

Seb had fallen into a fitful sleep, his face settling into a wounded mask of hurt and heartache. Even though Cal knew there wasn't a damn thing he could do to help the man, he decided to stay a little while longer in case he woke up afraid. Seb had been an Enforcer on the wrong side of the war, but the runes etched into his skin were the only traces of the man he once was. In his past life, Seb was something to be feared and hated by all things not human, but Cal couldn't bring himself to hate the broken man. He had lost more than just his humanity by getting those runes burned into his skin.

He'd lost the love of his life to the same evil that made him powerful.

Hours passed, and Cal kept a watchful eye over the town from the window of Seb's small room, waking him every so often to stir him out of a nasty nightmare and give him water to drink. When the sun finally sank low and Seb was more soundly asleep, he took his leave to go check on the jail. The stress of the day was weighing on his big shoulders like boulders, and he was in desperate need of a good run and fresh night air.

Mack looked up from his desk as Cal came back in, his boots propped on the desk and a book in hand.

"How is he?" Mack asked before Cal could ask the same about the prisoner, concern worn across his normally jovial features.

"Asleep. He'll be fine. What about him?" Cal nodded toward the bars without looking over but knew the man's eyes were on him again. It was giving him gooseflesh, and he hoped like hell Mack didn't notice.

"Fine. Quiet."

"You good to take first watch? I need to run."

Mack gave him a lazy salute. "You got it."

Cal didn't waste time leaving, deciding to wait until he was out of the town to strip down and shift, so he'd be free of Jesse's gaze. The evening air was warm and sweet, and the summer flowers smelled rich and wonderful with the breeze. Cal loved running at night. The calls of the wild whispered to him in a way only non-humans could hear. In the far distance, wild horses traveled together through the rolling plains between the rocky plateaus, their cadence so familiar to his own. Horses and Centaurs had a bond, a kinship, much like apes and humans would have if they had the ability to feel it. Sometimes Cal would find the herd and run with them, but on this night he wanted to be alone with his thoughts.

Natives came close to hearing what most humans couldn't and had a deep respect for nature that most non-humans could admire. Their Skinchangers could tap into the thread of life and step into an animal they "shared a spirit" with. Cal had no idea how it worked, and every time Sky tried to explain it, it never made much sense.

Running was part of how Centaurs made sense of the world and found peace. His family would run with him each night, galloping over the hills to chase the moonlight. It had been years since then, and he missed it so fiercely it hurt. Alone, with no mate, he found it hard sometimes to let the stress of being sheriff and protector of Stallion Ridge from overwhelming him. Nights like this, running until he was winded and sore, helped keep him feeling strong and alive.

Remembering his loss, he touched the metal he always kept around his neck. The weight of it settling him slightly.

It would be better once Jesse was gone and he could keep his emotions in check. Why had the man's gaze been so powerful? When was the last time he'd allowed himself to have a passionate night with someone? That made him laugh out loud to the stars.

"That's the last thing I should have on my mind when it comes to the prisoner. Pull yourself together, Calhoun."

The sooner he could get that man out of there, the better.

There was a lot going through Jesse's mind as he stared up at the cell's dusty ceiling. It hadn't been the first time he'd been inside of a cage, either from a prison cell or from an actual cage with a much better story attached to it. Living the type of life Jesse had for the past couple years, he didn't have a lot of firsts anymore, but it had been the first time he'd gotten to be on the back of a Centaur.

And what a striking beast he was. In both forms.

It had been a damn delight to see the huge form shrink down to a human that rivaled a marble statue. All thick muscle with tan skin, the sheriff had strong legs and a round, perky ass that was damn unfair to be on such a big man. His wild mane shortened when he turned human but kept its thickness and texture, the rich brown hue matching his dark eyes that were all stony seriousness and gruff. Peppering his masculine jaw was dark stubble, his lips thin but probably tasted like salt and earth.

If Jesse could get a round with him, he'd gladly spend some time in a cage for a little while. While that was mighty tempting and caused Jesse's dick to twitch at the very vivid pictures of debauchery running through his head, he had to focus on escaping.

Jesse watched as Mack leaned back in his chair with his boots on the desk and pulled his hat over his eyes. The town had gone ghost quiet as sleepy towns did after a certain point, and the man in charge of guarding him was falling asleep. It didn't take long for the lawman to settle into sleep, snoring slightly with his hands resting on his stomach.

Against the wall adjacent to the cell door was a whole display of different equipment for handling unruly criminals, both human and otherwise. It wasn't displayed in a menacing way, like one would expect from a torture chamber, but more like one would organize tools. Large slaver cuffs made from iron capped in silver rested on a hook, for wrangling those pesky shifters who were too big for sense. Next to those were smaller ones crafted the same way, both for ankles and wrists, and normal iron ones next to that. They weren't stupid enough to leave weapons out, only methods of containment and restraint, but that's all Jesse really needed right now.

They had failed to think he would be hiding anything important in his boots, having checked his pockets and taken his firearm, of course. Slipping his boots off carefully, Jesse retrieved his lock picks quietly before putting his boots back on and watching Mack for any type of movement. When the man didn't stir, he crept to the door and reached around to begin working the lock loose, his eyes never moving from the sleeping deputy. After a painstaking amount of time, the lock finally slid home and opened with a deep clunk. Jesse froze, staring at Mack, holding his breath .

The man sighed in his sleep and adjusted, but nothing more. Jesse let out a silent breath and gently pushed the door open, wincing as the metal squeaked from the movement. As soft as kitten's feet, Jesse crept over to the hanging shackles and plucked a pair of ankle restraints off the wall before sneaking over to the sleeping Mack. The risk was incredible, but Jesse had to make sure that if the deputy woke up before he could make his escape, he wouldn't be able to run after him.

The hilarious part of it all was that this wasn't the first time Jesse had to make sure someone couldn't run after him, so he had experience in this ridiculous situation. He had grown up with an older brother, scorned more people than he'd care to admit, and had a particularly amusing story about a warlord who had fallen in love with him.

But for now, the sleeping cowboy was the cause of his woes and capture, so he had to make sure he'd stay in one place. The restraints clicked home after lots of waiting, pauses, and breath-holding, and Jesse took several silent steps back once they were in place. Mack didn't stir. The man was out cold and still snoring lightly. Thank the Gods for heavy-sleeping lawmen.

Outside, the town was asleep, and the streets were silent. The moon did an ample job lighting the area, but to Jesse's dismay, no horses could be seen. They'd be able to track him down on foot easily, and he wouldn't get very far, so a horse was definitely the way to go. Sneaking through the streets, Jesse made sure to keep to the alleys beside the buildings, creeping low, and walked as silently as possible. There was no way all the horses were out of the town. It was just a matter of finding the stables or a horse someone left out while drinking too much.

There were lights inside of a saloon, quiet and calm but with the unmistakable flare above the door that signaled working girls being there. For such a small, quaint little place, Jesse was surprised to see that even the nice towns still had its primal desires. If he had the time to spare, he'd lean in and take a peek at what was on offer, but he doubted they'd have anything that catered to his tastes. Near the saloon was an inn with rooms for rent, and Jesse spotted what he had been looking for. A horse was resting near the side of the inn, left by whoever staggered out of the saloon to fumble into their room for the night.

Passing by the saloon, he dared a look inside, spotting two ladies leaning on the bar over their glasses, seeming bored. One of them had deep crimson hair spilling down her back in wild curls, her long legs swinging idly with her calves daringly exposed. From her profile, she was gorgeous, even with a pouty bored look, and was twisting her glass on the counter with long fingers. While he hadn't favored ladies in a while, she was something fun to look at. If her hair was any indication of her personality, she was fiery and fun.

Ah, well. Maybe another time, sweetheart.

With another glance around to make sure the area was clear, Jesse hopped onto the saddleless horse and grabbed hold of the silky mane. He clicked his tongue and tapped his heels into the side, urging the steed to move so he could put some distance between himself and the town. When the horse didn't move, Jesse turned his attention back toward the animal to see what the issue was, then his stomach was suddenly filled with stones.

"You're fucking dead," Cal hissed, his eyes blazing with anger as he glared at Jesse over his shoulder, his cheeks red with fury.

"Oh, hell," was all Jesse was able to manage before he was bucked so hard off the man's back, he flew for what seemed like forever. The ground rushed to meet him violently as he tumbled, landing in a heap halfway on the steps of the store across the street. The wood bit into his back and shoulder, and the air burst from his lungs, leaving him a helpless, gasping mess.

Jesse tried like hell to move to his feet, but his legs had turned into useless strips of rubber that failed to support him properly, and his chest burned for breath. Cal's heavy steps strolled up to him easily, a massive hoof landing on his chest and pinning him to the earth with just enough force to keep him in place.

"Mack!" Cal bellowed, veins still pulsing in his neck from the rage he wasn't trying to hide. Mack crashed out of the jailhouse, rifle in hand but ankles still shackled together. He landed on his knees and caught himself, hauling his feet back under him and looking around in alarm.

"You alright?" Mack called. "Where are the keys for these damn things?"

Cal scrubbed a hand over his face, and Jesse swore he heard the man counting backwards from ten before lifting his head again. With a deep breath, Cal sighed through his nose and glanced back down at Jesse.

"You're going to be a real pain in the ass, aren't you?"

"I reckon so, Sheriff."

"Drawer on the right!" Cal called back to the still struggling Mack, who disappeared back inside with an amusing shuffle.

"Picked the lock?" He turned his eyes back down toward Jesse, who was now catching his breath. This man was fun to look at. So big and brawny with dark accents and wild eyes. Jesse tossed him a grin and a little shrug.

"Yes, sir."

"You got any more lockpicks on you?"

"No, sir."

"Uh-huh." Cal didn't sound convinced or amused but no longer looked ready to flay him alive, which was good. Mack finally made his way to them, cuffs in hand, armed and looking the correct shade of pissed off.

"Hell, Cal. I'm sorry. I fell asleep, and the bastard must have had picks on him," he growled, shoving Jesse onto his stomach with the heel of his boot and cuffing him roughly. Cal followed them back to the jailhouse after Jesse was jerked to his feet and pushed forward. After he was shoved into the cell, he turned back around just in time to see the flash of flesh before Cal finished pulling his pants on. Before Mack could shut the bars, Cal took Mack's rifle and motioned for him to unlock Jesse's cuffs.

"Strip down."

The shiver that danced down Jesse's spine was so fantastic he almost lost a moan to it. Damn, the man's sheriff voice was ringing his bells, and he was starting to worry that stripping might reveal that fact to everyone in the room.

Mack undid the cuffs and stepped back, and Jesse began to do as he was told.

"Not gonna give a man some privacy?" Jesse teased, peeling his shirt off and tossing it on the bed.

"Don't get smart. You're lucky I'm not putting you in stocks for this shit."

"What is the plan for this one?" Mack asked, glancing at Cal, who kept his eyes trained on Jesse.

"I'll keep night watch. I don't need to sleep as much as you do."

Mack was asking Cal a growling question about chaining Jesse down during the night, but the only sounds Jesse was able to really hear was the blood rushing into his ears as he began removing more clothing. Cal's burning gaze was lighting a match under his skin. Each piece taken off was exposing more of himself, which normally he would embrace, but the heat piercing into his senses from the Centaur's unwavering gaze was making his blood boil.

When he was just down to his underwear, he finally looked up at the sheriff with a cocked brow.

"All the way, Sheriff?"

"Mack, take his clothes and search them. I'll think about giving them back."

A little ripple of disappointment went through Jesse, but he didn't dare whisper a word of it. Mack took his clothes and slammed the bars behind him, locking the door with finality. Jesse sat on his bed, almost totally naked and gave a heavy sigh. They found the rest of his stashed picks in his boot, along with the bit of coin he had on him, some tobacco and his lucky dice. Other than that, Jesse didn't have much in the way of useful things since his firearm was already gone, and they'd stolen his hat too.

"You think I could get a blanket since I'm half-naked now?" Jesse attempted but was rightfully ignored. At least it was summer, so the nights didn't get too cold, but he was going to have to keep from staring too long at the sheriff since he no longer had pants to hide how the man was affecting him.

This is going to be a long stay.