Chapter 3

Chapter Three

C al spent the rest of the night guarding their troublemaker prisoner with no more incidents. When morning came, the man was finally snoozing with his hand resting on his stomach and the other arm curled behind his head. Asleep, he almost didn't look like a devious little shit who jumped onto his back so brazenly. The son of a bitch hadn't realized the intimacy of the action, for which Cal was forever thankful. There was no way the man would have let him live it down if he did, and Cal may have actually stomped his damn head in.

It was painful to have the man in the state of undress as he was, especially with him asleep and free to openly stare at without risk. The stubble around his jaw was getting long, the beard growing in dark and thick. His arms, even relaxed, looked strong and firm, and the way his chest moved with each inhale caused Cal's dick to stir. The creeping summer sun was warming the building, causing a light shimmer of sweat to glisten on the man's tan skin. A bead was running down his chest, inching down with each slow breath.

Cal was watching that little drop, willing it to keep traveling down toward his abs so he could watch it dance around the muscles—

"Cal?" Gunner's voice knocked his head back into reality. Cal stretched to draw attention away from him, adjusting himself casually, and lifted his brows to let Gunner know he was listening.

"I asked if you ever got the last name."

"Oh, no. He won't give it up."

"What do you want me to put in the message to Worthington?"

"Use what we have and let them know we'll keep him here until they bring transport for his trial. The sooner we can get him out of here, the better." Cal tossed the sleeping man another glance. "Ask for a time frame so we know what we're looking at."

"You think they're gonna believe he's one of the Bandits?" Gunner sneered some at Jesse and shook his head. "He's just some punk."

"They'll believe us, Gunner."

"They'll believe you," Mack corrected as he came in. "Gunner, you forget Cal's a veteran."

"Everyone's a veteran," Gunner pointed out. "Hell, we arrest veterans constantly for being rowdy or stealing from the general store."

"Not this veteran." Mack grinned. "Did he ever tell you—"

"Let's not go into that." Cal cut off the head of the beast before it got out of control. "Write it up and send it out. Where's Cody?"

"Out patrolling. Where else? That kid is begging to find more trouble." Gunner shrugged.

"Give him an hour, then go get him. Kid can be making himself useful helping around the town, not out hunting shadows." Cal rubbed his eyes, which were dry and rough from lack of sleep.

"Yeah, speaking of, Mr. Thompson asked if you could come take a look at his sign. It fell down again. "

"Again? I've fixed that damn thing three times now!"

Gunner clicked his tongue. "Well, apparently it doesn't listen to the law, Sheriff. Also, Mr. Moore says someone's still stealing bricks at night from his well and wants us to stand guard."

Cal let out a heavy sigh and rubbed his temple. "Mack, you handle the brick issue. I'll go talk to Thompson. Gunner, you got this?" He waved his hand toward the cell, and Gunner gave a nod.

"I got it, Sheriff. Go save the town."

Jesse woke up to the late afternoon sun pouring into the building from the windows. His cell, which was a cage inside of the wooden building, didn't have windows looking outside, but the rest of the building did. He expected to see the Centaur, but instead, the other deputy, Gunner, was sitting at the desk writing. Unlike Mack and Cal, Gunner wasn't as hulking in size but still strong and put together. The man didn't even glance up from his paper as Jesse walked to the bars and leaned on them with a yawn.

"I couldn't possibly trouble you with some water, could I?"

"By your bucket."

Jesse glanced over at his waste bucket they had so kindly provided for his bodily functions to see a jug of water and a plate of cold food. The hours-old eggs and bacon with burnt toast weren't exactly delicious, but it wasn't terrible. It did bother him that they put it next to where he'd pissed earlier though.

"Ah. Well, thank you. Had to put it by the bucket, huh?" He cringed.

"Yep."

"Guess that's payback for last night?" Jesse sat back down on his cot with his water and food, taking a couple bites of the somewhat rubbery eggs.

"That and I don't like you. "

"Don't beat around the bush, do you, Deputy?"

"Nope." He blew lightly on the ink after putting the quill back in place. Jesse peered at the man quietly, swallowing his bite of food.

"What are you working on?"

Gunner pushed to his feet, taking the piece of paper and holding it up near the bars. The food in his mouth turned to ash, and his appetite vanished with the blood in his face.

"Soon as you let us know your last name, your family can know where to go pick up your corpse. After they let us know where you're going for the trial and all," Gunner said behind the sketch of Jesse's face with the information about his capture written at the bottom.

Gods, they were going to smear his face all over the damn country with these flyers, and his family was going to see it. Jesse the fuckup, the liar, the cheat, the thief, and murderer.

I can't let this happen. I can't let them see this…

"Holy shit, you actually got him to shut up?" Cody chimed in with a smirk as he came in. "You're looking a little pale, mister. Gunner's pretty good at drawing up thugs, don't you think?"

He wanted to call the kid every name he could think of or shoot back with something nice and dry for his remark, but instead, he just set his plate aside and tried to calm the churning in his belly. His brother didn't deserve to learn about all this from a piece of paper tacked to the side of a building, instructing him on where to go to pick up his criminal little brother's body. The heartache and defeat that would cause him is the last thing he needed.

He had to get out of there and take that fucking paper with him.

It was another couple hours before Cal showed up to take over the watch. He seemed tired, stiff, and a little frustrated but nodded approvingly at Gunner's handiwork. The smell of fresh coffee had followed him inside, the silver kettle he was holding containing the wonderful liquid that smelled so fantastic.

"I can stay and cook you something to eat, Cal," Cody offered like the little kiss-ass he was. "Or let you rest and I can guard the prisoner."

"I got it, Cody. If you're not ready to go home yet, go help Miss Gabby get home safe. Don't go out riding around. Either help her or go home. Clear?" Cal glanced up from his desk, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Yes, sir." Cody sighed, grabbing his hat on his way out.

"Boy, does he love being your golden boy," Jesse murmured, annoyed with the kid's enthusiasm to please.

"He's a good kid, just full of piss and vinegar," Cal grumbled, pouring himself a cup of coffee and taking a couple careful sips.

"You good for the night, boss?" Gunner asked as he grabbed his own hat and tucked it onto his head.

"I'm good. Have a good night, Gunner. Give Scarlet my regards."

Jesse watched the man go, tilting his head in thought before glancing back at the sheriff.

"Is Scarlet the woman with the long red hair at the saloon?"

"That's the one." Cal didn't seem surprised that he knew about her.

Jesse pushed to his feet and leaned on the bars, doing his best not to stare at the paper with his face etched into the page. "Could I get a cup of that coffee?"

"After the shit you put me through last night?" Cal snorted. "You're lucky I gave you food and water today."

"Yeah, about that. I'm grateful, make no mistake, but could I request it not be set next to my piss pot next time? That's just unsanitary, Sheriff."

Cal let out a bark of laughter that was shockingly wonderful to hear, even if it was at Jesse's expense.

"Gunner's a bit of an asshole," he said with an affectionate smile regarding the man. A little spike of jealousy pricked at Jesse's senses.

"So, that's a no on the coffee then?"

"That's a no on the coffee." Cal leaned back, sipping from his cup and picking up a book to read. Jesse let himself sigh heavily and walk around his cell in slow, bored circles. His mind was bouncing all over, thinking of ways to fix his situation and trying not to ogle the big, currently human Centaur reading and drinking delicious coffee.

After an eternity of silence and pacing, Jesse finally sat against the bars and stared up at the ceiling.

"So, how does it work? The Centaur thing?" When Cal didn't respond, Jesse tried a different question. "When you shift. Does it hurt?"

He glanced over his shoulder to see the man was ignoring him, reading his book. Jesse turned back around to face his bed, then leaned his head against the bars and let himself smirk.

"What happens to your cock? Does it go away?"

"I don't believe that is any of your business."

There we go. The Centaur does have buttons.

"Just curious."

"Curious about my Centaur genitalia?" he asked flatly, and Jesse sent a smirk at him over his shoulder.

"You could say that."

"Keep it to yourself."

"C'mon, Sheriff. When am I gonna get the chance to ask a real-life Centaur the burning questions, huh?"

"Can it."

Jesse turned around to face him, sitting cross-legged on the ground so he could rest his arms through the bars and watch him. With a grin, he wiggled his finger at him.

"You ever have sex in Centaur form? Or is it just in human form that you have all the fun? "

Cal exhaled and tossed his book onto the desk with a solid thump, turning his annoyed gaze his way.

"You're asking me about the mechanics of Centaur sex, Jesse? Really?"

"What else am I gonna do?" Jesse shrugged helplessly, waving his hand toward the cage. "I'm a bit lacking in options here." It was a little too fun to see the lawman rub his temples like he was trying to fight back a headache, so Jesse asked another burning question.

"How about that fancy towel you wrap around yourself before you shift? Obviously, it's for covering your shame when you shrink back down to your two-legged form, and all your bits are out—"

"That towel is a Centaur garment called a Kadah my mother made me. We are given this when we hit puberty," Cal snapped.

"To cover your bits."

"To shield poor human decency from the evil anatomy they all have. You ever see a Scotsman's kilt? It's kinda like that. A battle garment." Cal shook his head. "Why the hell am I telling you this?"

"That's damn informative!"

"If I give you something to read will you leave me alone?"

Jesse wrinkled his nose and leaned his head against the bars in thought before holding up a finger. "How about a compromise?"

Cal eyed him warily. "Does it include you giving me some peace?"

"I leave you alone for the rest of the night, and tomorrow you let me have a proper bath and shave. I've been dying to try out the water from the hot springs this area is known for. Deal?"

"Deal. Not a damn word from you, or the deal is off the table," Cal warned, and Jesse made an X over his heart with his finger, winked, and stayed silent.

It took more willpower than he thought to stay mute the rest of the night, sheer boredom racking his brain and making him restless as hell. Cal ended up still giving him a book to read after mentioning that Jesse's pacing was driving him crazy, but the book wasn't terribly interesting or fun. Still, it was something to do and helped Jesse eventually fall asleep as the morning sun was creeping over the horizon. When Jesse woke, it was afternoon again, and Cal was nowhere in sight. Jesse kept to himself and tried to get through the book to keep his mind from drifting to dark thoughts. The early evening sun was hanging low by the time the Centaur showed up again.

To his credit, the sheriff held up his end of the bargain and marched Jesse out behind the jailhouse where he spied a large tub steaming with water from the town's hot springs, along with some soap and a razor.

"Ah, Sheriff, this is a dream. I'm so sick of being grimy, and my beard was getting away from me." Jesse grinned, wasting no time in starting to scrub his skin clean.

"Once you're done shaving, you're leaving the razor behind. Don't do anything stupid, or I'll have to shoot you," he warned, hand resting on his pistol as he surveyed beyond the town toward the open fields and the picturesque plateaus framing the horizon. Jesse had noticed the man wasn't eying him as hard when he was washing, which helped with his own blood pressure.

"Wouldn't dream of it." He sighed happily, running hands over his smooth cheeks, now free of the wild beard. It was amazing what a good shave and clean skin could do for a man facing the gallows. The sheriff shocked him further by tossing him some clean clothing, not the same he had arrived in, but they fit fine. Once he was clean, dry, and clothed, Cal hauled his ass back inside and locked him inside the cell.

The evening crept into night, and the town fell silent like before, the building quiet with only the two of them inside. Jesse got bored of counting the bars and glanced over at Cal's large figure leaning over his desk, playing a riveting game of solitaire.

"Who's winning? "

"I thought you were going to leave me alone," Cal grumbled, putting another card down.

"That was last night. Tonight is a whole new discussion."

"No discussion. Read your book and keep quiet."

"Oh, yes. The Wayward Entomologist is just so gripping," Jesse replied, droll. "Really gets the blood pumping."

Cal shrugged his big shoulders and almost looked offended. "Everyone's a critic."

"How about this." Jesse sat up, throwing his legs around to the front of the bed.

"Here we go." Cal sighed, already annoyed. "What are you bargaining for silence this time?"

"How about we play cards? I bet I'm more fun than the deck. Hear me out." Jesse held up his hand before Cal could tell him to go to hell. "We can play between the bars. Pull the table over there to the bars, and I'll play from right here."

The Centaur watched him for a moment, then glanced at the table in question. It wasn't in use at the moment, not beyond holding some old paper and files. He seemed to roll it around in his mind before flicking his gaze back down to his current spread of cards and sighing. Pushing to his feet, Cal began moving the papers off the desk, and Jesse let himself grin. As the big Centaur dragged the table over to the bars, Jesse pushed his cot-style bed to the bars to use as a seat.

"Poker?" Jesse asked hopefully, causing Cal to give an impressive snort.

"You don't have much to wager."

"What if we put something else on the line besides money?" Jesse snaked his arms through the bars to rest them lazily on the table. Cal gave him an unamused look.

"Like what?"

"Winner gets to ask any question, and the loser has to tell the truth. "

"And how do I know you're actually being honest with me, outlaw?"

"'Cause I'll give you my word, Sheriff. How confident are you in your poker skills?" Jesse aimed a disarming smile at Cal as he sat in the chair across from him and started dealing the cards lazily. The first round didn't last terribly long, and when Jesse placed his winning hand on the table, he made a show of rubbing his chin while he tried to think of a good question. Cal was reshuffling the cards and didn't look too worried.

"Let's start with something easy." Jesse pointed to the book lying next to him on the bed. "You seemed a little upset when I didn't like that book. Why?"

Cal blinked, taken off guard, and his dark eyes bounced to the book before focusing on his cards as he gave a lazy shrug.

"I like it."

"And? C'mon, Sheriff. Game's not fun unless you're honest." He wagged a finger at him.

Cal let out a long breath and met his eyes.

"The author, C. Beagle, is my favorite naturalist. My mother got me into collecting beetles when I was younger and showed me his books. I wanted to be an entomologist when I was younger."

Cal's tone was easy, but his glare was daring Jesse to laugh or tease him like surely most people had. That was the furthest thing from Jesse's mind. The answer had been surprising but honest and a little sweet. Trying to imagine the big, brawny Centaur as a man arranging bugs on a tray in a museum was the most charming thing he could possibly imagine.

"Why didn't you pursue studying bugs?"

"Money." Cal started dealing cards out again. "There was no way I was getting into college to make that an actual career choice."

"Do you still collect them as a hobby?" When Cal narrowed his eyes at Jesse's question, he smiled and held up his hands. "I'm not teasing you. I'm really asking. As shocking as you may think, I don't think that's a weird thing to be fascinated by. I used to collect rocks as a kid. Loved geology."

"…I dabble," Cal hedged, not going further with it. "You collecting rocks seems fitting."

"How so?" Jesse couldn't mask the amusement in his voice and swiped his cards up.

"You like shiny things."

"You got me there." He grinned and tossed him a wink. Cal huffed and focused back on the cards. The game was a little more intense that time around, and Jesse's big opponent actually put some effort into the match. When Cal tossed down the winning hand, he leaned back in his chair and caused the wood to whine in protest.

"Why did you start robbing trains?"

"Hell, Sheriff. Not even gonna ease me in, just go full force, huh?" He laughed but honestly had been expecting him to go for the throat right away. Cal waited patiently for Jesse to take a breath and press on.

"The short answer is I needed money. The long answer is I needed money for my brother."

"Why your brother?"

"Win another round, and I'll tell you."

"Bullshit. You didn't answer my question."

Jesse tilted his head and smirked. "Yes, I did. If you want to ask another question about why I'm getting it for my brother, that'll take another winning match. You're the one who offered up more information than just why you liked the book. That was on you."

Cal growled, and Jesse held out his hand for the cards. "Easy, big boy. I'll shuffle and deal. Beat me again, and I'll tell you more secrets."

The sheriff was smoldering when he was a little grumpy. The way his dark eyes gleamed when he looked like he wanted to pounce was making Jesse's heart skip. When the big man begrudgingly handed the cards over, Jesse rewarded him with a little chuckle. Shuffle, cut, deal, and the game was on. Cal was hell-bent on kicking his ass, and Jesse was adoring the way his dark brows furrowed when he concentrated.

When Jesse tossed down a winning hand, Cal set his jaw and openly glared.

"How long were you in the war?" Jesse leaned on the bars to study him.

"How did you know I was in the war?"

"I didn't. I guessed. How long were you in?"

"Five years." Cal scooped up the cards and started to shuffle, obviously wanting to busy his hands.

"Five years is almost the whole time. How old were you?"

"Fifteen at the start of the war."

Jesse gave a low whistle. "I guess a fifteen-year-old Centaur could pass as an eighteen-year-old human. I was ten when my dad went in. I wanted nothing more than to go with him."

"What side was he on?" Cal glanced up, and Jesse snorted.

"Not yours. I love my daddy, but we didn't see eye to eye on everything. Guess it's probably a good thing I was too young to go with him, or I probably would have ended up fighting against him at some point. Five years is a lot to take, Sheriff."

Cal didn't give a response but dealt the cards out and adjusted a little in his seat. The tension in his shoulders was obvious, and his eyes began to cloud over some as he stared at the cards in front of him. A slice of guilt stabbed at Jesse for bringing up the past, knowing war talk always made his dad have the same glazed-over look. His father never talked about the war much, but he was only in about two years before he had to be sent home. Body and soul, his father was never the same after that, always a little bent from the horrors of the battlefield.

"Can I ask you something not related to the game?" Jesse raised his eyebrows .

"Hardly seems fair," Cal grumbled.

"Can I see your collection?"

That got Cal to look up finally, squinting in wariness. "Of beetles?"

"Yeah." Jesse shrugged. "Can I see them?"

"…Why?"

"Never seen one before," he said easily. "I'd like to see one before I die. You got any of those really shiny green ones that look kinda purple in the right light? Are those real?"

"…You're serious," Cal stated as he stared at him, confused and a little bewildered.

"By the god's right hand, I am. The way I figure it, Sheriff, is that I'm gonna die probably within the month, so why not experience everything I can before I get strung up?" Jesse didn't actually believe he'd die by the law's hand as he was too slippery to stay in one place long enough to actually get killed. He was still working on his plan on getting out of there, and that plan included wiggling the loose link in the chain until it finally gave in.

Who knew the weak link would be the biggest one there?

Cal shifted in his seat again and glanced around some, like he was worried someone would hear him. "I'll think about it."

"Alright, then." Jesse nodded, going back to the game. The hand stretched a little longer than before, but eventually Cal put down winning cards and looked at Jesse expectantly.

"Okay," Jesse began, "my brother is four years older than me. He was basically the person who looked after me when our dad was gone. Mom passed away, and our aunt was… not the best person. Needless to say, we're close. I owe him a lot 'cause I was a bit of a shit when I was younger."

"You don't say." Cal cocked a brow.

"Anyway," Jesse pressed on. "Just before the war ended, he met a nice respectable woman and got married, had my niece, which I adore more than the moon and stars. Her name is Marybell, and she wants to be a ranger when she grows up. You'd like her. Unfortunately, my sister-in-law caught a vicious fever that took her a couple winters back. My brother… didn't take it well. He fell into some mess with the Spades and has been trying to dig himself out since."

"God's fist. The Spades?" Cal grimaced, shaking his head slightly. "How much?"

"A dollar is too much when it comes to those heartless fuckers," Jesse spat. "But a lot. He's a smart man, works the books for major banks, and does what he can, but he'll never be able to keep up with what they're asking him. That's where I come in."

Cal was studying his face quietly, probably looking for traces of falsehood deep within his eyes, but the windows to Jesse's soul were wide open. Nothing about the story was even a shred false. If he was going to gain the big man's trust, he had to start with baring his wounds to the man. As much as it ached to tell Cal about his own blood's misgivings, it was a necessary evil.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Cal gave a slow nod and eased himself back from where he had leaned forward to glare.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Jesse."

The words were honest, simple, and felt like a bolt through the chest. The man not only believed him, but his sympathy struck a deep-rooted cord in him. There was no reason for the man who was charged to deliver him to his death to give a flying shit about Jesse and his troubles, but he seemed to genuinely care, and that was something Jesse apparently wanted.

Badly.

"Thanks, Sheriff." Jesse forced a smile, fighting the urge to rub his chest where Cal's words had stabbed him. "How about another round?"