Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

C al finished half a bottle of whiskey that night as he sat outside the jailhouse beside the front door. He had taken his rifle with him, but he knew in his fucking gut he wouldn't take a shot at Jesse if he somehow got loose and took off running. Which was why he was so goddamn frustrated and half-drunk. The night was cool and quiet. The beautiful stars sparkled high above, and the distant sounds of the creatures of the night sang to them.

The sky started to warm into a sleepy shade of rose and gold playing off the faint clouds left over from the night. Distantly, a rooster announced the coming dawn, and the world was slowly waking. It would be a little bit before people started trickling into town for the market to fetch orders being brought in from neighboring towns. Right now, it was still quiet, with only a soul here and there milling slowly into place.

What the hell had made everything go so sideways?

The warmth of the alcohol mixed well with his blood, calming his thudding heart and racing thoughts but did nothing to dull the ache for more contact. Each time he let his hazy mind wander, it floated right back to the ghost of Jesse's breath against his neck, his firm body pressed to his, and the whispers against his skin.

Don't stop.

Please.

More.

Fuck me, Cal.

"This is bad," he whispered to himself, rubbing his tired eyes with his finger and thumb. There was no sense to be made from this situation, and Cal felt like he was not only up a river without a paddle but without a boat and with a boulder strapped to his fucking leg. Jesse was sinking him, and he wasn't too sure he wanted to fight it.

Yeah? What the hell are you going to do when they hang him, Cal?

He shuddered at the thought. Like he was going to let that happen now. That made him snort in amusement. Damn, he was really losing his mind now.

"Sheriff." A deep baritone caught his attention, jerking his gaze up from where he had been rubbing his eyes. Standing at the bottom steps of the jailhouse, dressed in his normal slick, expensive attire of a man who liked to flaunt his status and size, was the thorn in Cal's ass whose visits he never enjoyed. Standing as tall as him and rivaling in size, Jack Rowlett eyed Cal with a look of amusement and pity.

"Marshal," Cal grunted, not hiding his scowl. "What can I do for you?"

"What the hell are you doing sitting out here, Cal? Don't you have a prisoner inside?" Jack cocked a dark brow up before sliding his silver eyes over to the whiskey bottle. "Ah."

"He's inside the cell. No way out but the front door." Cal wasn't going to explain himself to this asshole.

"I see the practices at Stallion Ridge have gotten… lax. That's disappointing, Sheriff. Especially from you." Jack shook his head in mock disappointment.

"Especially from me," Cal echoed, knowing what he meant, but he was too tired, drained, and frustrated with everything to not push back. "By that you mean, what?"

"Centaurs are so sensitive." Jack laughed, a dimple pushing into the left side of his cheek. Cal wanted to punch the other side to give him a matching dip in his face.

"Uh-huh. And Minotaurs are known for their manners," Cal tossed back. "Did you come here to jab at me or did you want something?"

Jack smirked, delighted in obviously getting under Cal's skin, which annoyed the hell out of him. He was usually so much better at deflecting the pompous marshal, but he was just too worn down from everything to care.

"I came to see the prisoner, Sheriff. Kind of my job." Jack tapped his Marshal badge, the five-pointed star pinned to his vest was polished and bright. Cal's gut twisted.

"You taking him for transport?" Cal pushed to his feet, trying to keep his tone even, but his pulse was starting to race.

"Maybe." Jack came up the steps, taking his hat off as they entered the small building. Jesse was lying on the bed and turned when they came in. His brown eyes flicked from Cal to the big man beside him, and he slowly got to his feet as his eyes locked onto the silver star on Jack's chest.

Jack sniffed the air and furrowed his brows. "Why does it smell like sex in here?"

Cal coughed, rubbing his mouth, forgetting that he didn't clean up after the madness that happened hours before.

"Sheriff gave me some privacy." Jesse grinned, making an obscene gesture with his fist. "Been a while, so it kind of got away from me."

"Charming," Jack grumbled, turning his attention back toward Cal. "I can see why you were outside now. He always this way?"

"Pretty much," Cal confessed, watching carefully as Jack stepped closer to the bars to look Jesse over.

"You're not much to look at. You really one of the famous Iron Bandits?" Jack crossed his big arms, the fabric straining over his biceps. In the typically smug Jesse fashion, the bold human behind the bars gave a lazy shrug and mirrored Jack's stance.

"Nope."

"Then why would the good sheriff of Stallion Ridge write my office and say that you are?"

"I think the good sheriff of Stallion Ridge is mistaken."

"That so." Jack didn't sound convinced, and Cal knew the man was just having fun.

"That is so, Marshal, sir. I was just out minding my business, helping my poor mama on the farm, you see. It's been a hard year for us, and she's never quite got her strength up after Daddy passed away two summers ago. I was riding into town to get her some medicine from Thompson's shop, when the bandits road through trying to get a train. Luckily, the sheriff and his men were right behind the bastards, but I just got caught up in the fray. It's all one big misunderstanding, sir." Jesse wrung his hands on the bars with big, brown, puppy dog eyes.

"Well, I am impressed, son." Jack pointed a finger at him with a look of amusement. "You are quite the actor. I like the Thompson's reference, but sadly they don't sell those types of tonics. Not bad though."

Jesse smiled brilliantly and gave a little bow. "Thank you, thank you. I do accept tips if you'd be so kind, Marshal. Trying to upgrade to a better suite." He motioned around to his cell.

"You must drive Cal up the damn wall, don't you?"

"I do my best, sir." Jesse smirked, winking at Cal and making his heart skip and his scowl deepen.

"Good, lad." Jack nodded approvingly.

Mack, bless his soul, came inside, armed with fresh coffee, and saved him from further torment.

"Morning, Marshal." Mack nodded to the man. "Want some coffee?"

"No thanks, Mack. I was just on my way out." Jack slipped his hat back onto his head and turned toward Cal. "I'll be around, Sheriff."

Cal followed Jack outside and stopped him once the door was shut behind them. "What about him?" He motioned back toward the jailhouse with his thumb. "Are you taking him to court?"

"I'm going to send a message up the chain and see what they say back. If they think that he's worth their time, we'll send him up. If not, we'll deal with it here."

"Deal with it here?" Cal shook his head. "How we going to hold a trial here?"

"With the judge, jury, and executioner standing right in front of you." Jack put his hands on his hips. "They're probably not going to want to bother dragging this out over one punk kid member of the bandits. They want justice."

"Jack, that kid wasn't part of any of the murders. He was the runner who stopped the train while the others robbed it. You're right. He is just a punk kid, not the leader. The rope is too much."

Jack snickered in bewilderment. "You hearing yourself right now? You're siding with that little shit?"

"I ain't siding with anyone. I'm just saying fact. You know if I felt strongly the other way, I'd be the first one helping you knot the noose, but this just doesn't fit. Put him on a chain gang, have him do some labor, but for God's sake, Jack. Hanging?" Cal shook his head, meeting the man's eyes.

"Cal, it's not my call." Jack's voice softened. "Even if I felt the same way—"

"He saved my life, Jack," Cal bit out, scrubbing a hand over his face. Goddamnit, he didn't want to have to play this hand, but he was getting desperate.

"Saved your life? What the hell are you talking about?" The man laughed. "What's next? He cured the sick and saved some fucking orphans?"

"We had a Blight Wraith show up on Smith's farm a couple days ago. Jesse helped us get rid of it and saved my ass in the process. The fucking thing had me on death's door, and Jesse killed it just in time." Cal huffed, pulling up his shirt to show the man his wrapped torso.

Jack's eyes widened. Then he adjusted his hat on his head and let out a long breath.

"Are you telling me that you let your prisoner out of his cell to help you fight something? Have you lost your mind ?" Jack hissed, keeping his tone quiet like he was worried someone might overhear them. "What were you thinking, Cal?"

"It was a Blight Wraith, and he knew how to fight it. We needed help, and he helped. Jack, listen to me. That man in there is worth more than setting an example. I know we don't typically see eye to eye on much, but I know you agree with me here."

The silence stretched between them, their eyes locked on each other as the two lawmen regarded the words that had been said. Cal wasn't sure what was going through Jack's mind, as the Minotaur rarely said anything to him that wasn't a jab, but he knew the man was an honest one, and a good man of the badge. He didn't abuse, he didn't step on people, and he was typically fair, even if he was a pain in the ass most of the time. After a long, pregnant pause, Jack sighed and looked away, his jaw set.

"One of the people killed was Rick Boone's son-in-law," Jack said finally.

"Boone as in Boone's Textiles? Fuck." Cal hung his head as Jack nodded.

"He wants blood, Cal, and so do all his friends with seats of power. That kid might be innocent of doing anyone real harm, but he's guilty as sin by association."

"Do what you can, Jack. Can you give me that?" Cal looked up, hoping he didn't look as torn down as he felt.

Jack gave him a nod and finished going down the jailhouse steps onto the street.

"I don't know that it'll do much, but I'll give you that," Jack said over his shoulder as he left, not doing anything to quell the fist of doubt clenching in Cal's stomach. Jesse was as good as dead with Jack there, and the timeline for the inevitable had been slashed in half. He had been hoping it was going to take them longer to get there, that Jesse would have to be transported and tried before anything happened.

But now…

But now what?

Cal made his way home after checking in with Mack, needing to try and get some sleep, though he knew the likelihood of that was slim. His home wasn't far from town, a small wooden house he had built himself with Mack and Gunner when he first moved close. Each of his men lived just a stone's throw from his own place. The humble but cozy home had a stone fireplace, simple furniture, and a large front porch perfect for viewing the stars on cool nights.

The sun was mostly blocked by the massive oak tree outside, the canopy of thick branches and leaves blocking out the harsh sun. Behind the house, Cal had set up a simple garden of tomatoes, carrots, and potatoes, and a small coop with two plucky hens and a lazy rooster. He loved his home, his only little slice of comfort, even if the inside was always quiet.

The massive bed built for a man of Centaur size, squeaked as he sat. Cal let himself feel the weight of everything press down on him. In a moment of forgetfulness, he reached for the necklace he sometimes touched for comfort but only felt skin. A small wave of sadness spilled over him, but he shook it away. West would have wanted him to use the metal for the greater good. It wasn't the necklace that held the memories of his brother; it was him. The loss shouldn't hurt, but it quietly did.

Lying back on the bed, Cal shut his eyes and let his head drift where he wanted to, welcoming the excuse to not think about his brother. Not wanting to fight anymore, Cal let the filthy images of Jesse float back up to his mind's eye. The way he sounded echoed through his head as he opened himself up to the daydream. He could feel the hot breaths panting against him tickling his skin, how it felt when his hips moved against his torment, and how his cock felt throbbing in Jesse's grip.

Cal's blood buzzed through his veins as he shamelessly fantasized about what taking Jesse from behind would be like, fucking him against the bars like he had been begging him to do only hours before. Pulling his belt buckle loose, he freed his painfully neglected dick from its prison and took himself in his hand. Pulling up his bank of stored memories and newly crafted fantasies, Cal let his imagination run wild.

Fuck it. Fuck it. I need this. Maybe I can finally think straight afterwards.

Cal imagined Jesse gripping the bars in front of him with his perfect, firm ass on display for him, his whiskey eyes watching him over his shoulder.

"Please fuck me, Cal,"

"Yes…" Cal shut his eyes as he began to stroke, letting his mind craft what it would feel like sliding deep inside Jesse's tight ass, how he'd moan and bare down to swallow him whole. Lust curled in his belly as his dream Jesse bounced against him in pleasure, begging to go fast, harder, gripping the bars and pushing back against him to fit all of Cal inside. Hands on his hips, Cal would give him what he wanted, fucking the man senseless, his hand reaching around to stroke Jesse's ample, thick cock he now knew intimately. Just as Jesse would arch back against him, flush against his chest, he'd kiss that smart mouth deep and experience Jesse exploding over his fingers as he screamed his name.

Cal called out as he lifted his hips, coming so intensely it splashed against his chest and kept going, all of his pent-up sexual frustrations firing out full force. Keeping his head back in ecstasy, he let himself gasp and whisper how good it felt as he milked himself completely, imagining he was emptying himself into his sexy-as-hell prisoner .

As his body vibrated all over with post-orgasm bliss, his cock softening and his breathing calming, he realized very clearly that what he had hoped for didn't work. He didn't have Jesse out of his mind after finally allowing himself to get off and relax.

Now he wanted to feel it for real.

"Shit."

Jesse normally slept during the day, since his nights were usually spent playing poker with a certain Centaur, but his mind was all over the damn place. On the one hand, Jesse ticked off one finger as he thought to himself, Cal completely floored him by giving him the hand job of his life last night, something that Jesse was still feeling all over. The way that man had pressed him against the bars, pumped his cock, licked him, then demanded he come all over the prison bars was the hottest damn thing Jesse had ever experienced.

There had been a part of him that had hoped he could persuade the stony sheriff to let Jesse blow him when he noticed the man reacting reluctantly to his open flirting, but never had he imagined Cal losing control in Jesse's favor like that. It had been even more surprising when the man left right afterwards, not even demanding repayment for the bone-melting tugging.

On the other, more serious hand, a fucking marshal had shown up that morning on account of Jesse's current imprisonment. He ticked off a second finger and tapped it against his thumb in thought. Time was quickly running out, and soon Jesse would be loaded up into a wagon with said marshal and hauled off to meet his fate. There was no way in hell they were going to give him an inch, even if he did save Cal's life only days ago. As soon as he set foot into the wagon, he was a dead man.

Maybe I'll get lucky, and some Natives will attack the wagon. Then I can give them the slip .

"Yeah, if they don't kill me first," he whispered to himself, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms.

Mack glanced over from his whittling and leaned his chair back.

"You say something?"

"Just thinking about escaping, don't worry about it."

"Oh, alright." Mack went back to his carving, used to Jesse's comments. Ever since Jesse had given Mack the slip, the guy was way more cautious around him but never mean. Mack was a laid-back guy who liked coffee and woodworking but was not much of a talker. Jesse much preferred Cal, or Cody, since he could always get that kid's feathers ruffled in a heartbeat.

Back to the matter at hand—not the sexy Centaur with large, warm hands, a killer grip, and gravelly, deep voice that made Jesse's cock stand up—but the fact he might die soon. That was what needed focus, but his traitorous dick wasn't giving him much peace. Jesse needed to figure a way out of there, or that was going to be the last orgasm he was ever going to have.

It's a good one to end on, but let's aim for a couple more, shall we?

Sleep eventually won out for a little while, and Jesse woke in time for dinner and Cal coming in for his shift. Jesse was floored the man showed his face, figuring after turning tail and running after their encounter, that he'd be done with Jesse. That didn't seem to be the case, and Jesse found himself damn excited about that fact.

Cal and Mack spoke a little, ate dinner at the desk, and then Mack was on his way as usual. Cal sat at his desk, going over some paperwork that probably involved Jesse's pending demise, and didn't look his way. After Jesse gave the man a little while of peace, he finally moved to the bars and leaned against them to look over his Centaur.

Mine? Man gives you a hand job, and suddenly he's yours? Get a damn grip .

"Hey." Jesse nodded to the table, even though Cal wasn't looking at him. "We playing or what?"

Cal looked his way, his dark eyes betraying nothing, before glancing over at the table. Cal had cleaned it off discreetly once the marshal was gone and moved it back to its normal place, but the cards were still neatly stacked on the surface.

After a couple heartbeats, Cal sighed and got up, moving the table over and pulling up a chair. Jesse stayed quiet, moving his bed over and letting the silent man deal out their hands. After a nice, calm round, Jesse won and glanced up to see Cal visibly tense. The man was on edge, waiting for the other boot to drop and Jesse to bring up what Cal was clearly avoiding.

"Do you have an ax?" Jesse had to stifle a laugh as Cal's face shot up in surprise, his brow arched at the question.

"What?"

"An ax. Like, a battle-ax."

"No…" Cal shook his head, slowly getting the meaning of the question. "No, my family fought with swords and shields."

"That right? Centaurs pass down their weapons, don't they?" He began shuffling the cards, smirking as Cal started to relax.

"Yeah, they do. I have my grandmother's shield with our crest on it. West had the sword."

"Damn. The only thing passed down to me and Cooper from our parents was a broken pocket watch my grandfather had and shitty farmland. I'll take a shield over that."

"Land's always valuable."

"Thanks, Dad ," Jesse teased. "It's not if it's sour and can't grow anything."

He dealt out the cards and let their familiar, somewhat comfortable silence fall over them as they played.

"Say, Cal." Jesse glanced up to see Cal raise his eyebrows in acknowledgment as he studied his hand. "Calhoun doesn't sound like a very Centaur name."

"Calhoun is a human name," he said flatly, like it was obvious .

"Then what's your Centaur name?"

Cal lifted his eyes and narrowed them. "I don't see you with a winning hand."

"Not for the game. Just asking for the sake of asking."

"Is that how we're doing this now?"

"I still wanna play. You don't have to answer. I'll just beat you again and get it that way."

"You're pretty damn sure of yourself all of a sudden, Woodlock."

"Oh, low blow, Sheriff." Jesse pointed at him. "That's playing dirty."

Cal's lips twitched to stifle a smirk, and Jesse bit his cheek to keep from grinning back in return.

"Put up or shut up." Cal lifted his eyes from his cards to glare at Jesse, who motioned for him to go ahead. Laying his hand down, the cocky sheriff did have a good hand that go-round, but Jesse's once again trumped him.

"You just don't have lady luck on your side tonight, Sheriff." Jesse leaned on the bars expectantly. Cal huffed and gathered the cards, shuffling.

"Hycall. Calhoun is my middle name."

"Hycall Calhoun…" Jesse paused, waiting for Cal to fill in the rest.

"Klelbor."

"Hycall Calhoun Klelbor. Now that's a name. James Theodore Woodlock doesn't quite have the same flow. I sound like a man of Congress, right?"

"Gods help us." Cal snorted, shuffling the cards in his huge hands with ease. The man seemed to have fallen back into a comfortable rapport with him, which started to pick at the back of Jesse's brain. For such a big, brave man, this Centaur sure as hell ran away from a lot.

Guess that's true to his half horse nature. Wild horses and all that bullshit …

"Why'd you run?" Jesse blurted before he could reel in his thoughts, surprising himself as much as the now-paused Cal. Instead of backpedaling, since Jesse didn't know how at this point and was never very good at trying, he watched the large man in front of him stare down at his cards with a frown.

"I didn't run," Cal spat, the words falling as flat as the cards on the table that was earlier covered with their sinful exchange.

"You have any idea how hurtful to the male pride it is to have someone run out in a quick hurry like they just committed a crime and steal their whiskey on the way out? Damn, Sheriff." Jesse had been trying to keep his tone light, but the sting of it was just too much. "You didn't even let me return the favor."

"You didn't need to return the favor… I was…"

"You can just say what's on your mind, Cal. You ain't gonna make me cry." Jesse sneered, his wounded pride bleeding at how Cal refused to meet his eyes now.

"It was a mistake." Cal rubbed his eyes with his fingers, his voice rough around the edges. "That whole damn thing was a mistake."

Cal may as well have punched Jesse in the damn stomach because Jesse winced like he had when Cal wasn't watching.

"Why? ‘Cause I'm your prisoner? Who gives a shit? What does that change? We're just strangers exchanging a little friction, that's all." Jesse ignored the pain pricking his chest when he said it and rubbed it like he was fighting off something real. It shouldn't hurt this way, be this painful, because Cal was nothing real to him. The man was a barrier keeping him from his life. Granted, he was a brave, good-hearted fool who made Jesse's toes curl in desire, but he was still an obstacle to overcome.

Cal stayed stony silent, his eyes down and to the side while the gears turned in his head. Most likely, the lawman was raging in his head about trying to stay professional, not let himself get caught up in this wild game and let himself have a little fun. Jesse was a criminal after all, a no-good train robber bound for the gallows.

Yeah, fuck that.

"Your luck's not been great tonight, Sheriff, but let's make this night interesting." Jesse grinned, shoving his hurt heart down to let his much louder desire flare up with his pride.

"I don't think I can handle any more interesting nights." Cal finally glanced back his way, the man suddenly seeming so damn tired. It would have made Jesse hurt to see him look that way if he wasn't already licking his own wounds, so he pressed on.

"C'mon, don't be that way. Just focus on here and now. It's just us. You and me. I wanna play for something else tonight."

A big hand came up and scrubbed over Cal's face, but he didn't respond either way. Good. There was still a part of him that wanted to continue.

"Winner gets their dick sucked," Jesse purred.

"Fuck you, Jesse," Cal said through his teeth. "I'm not playing this game."

"Aw, I hit a nerve. What's wrong? Know you'll lose and worried you can't fit all of me into your mouth?"

Cal actually scoffed an offended little laugh. "You ain't that big."

Ouch.

"You know damn well and good how big I am, Sheriff. I wanna know how big you are. Play me. I want that pretty mouth on my cock."

"You're insane if you think I'm doing this! I'm done with your bullshit!" Cal raged, slamming his meaty fist onto the table and rattling the damn thing. Jesse glared at the big man and armed himself with the best fuck you smile he could muster.

"I didn't realize Centaur's bellies favored the color yellow."

If Cal's eyes could have grown darker, the man was attempting to do so with how black his glare was toward Jesse in that moment. Anger was rolling off him, spiced with the unchecked heat that never seemed to fully die when they were around each other. Jesse let his eyes drift to Cal's mouth, and his lips—that were currently a straight line of anger—seemed to twitch at the scrutiny. A bolt of excitement raced through him as the tip of Cal's tongue ran along his bottom lip before he caught his gaze again.

The big Centaur's shoulders rolled back, and he snatched up the cards.