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Slack Creek, Texas - 1885

The train arrived in Slack Creek early on Thursday evening. Before going to the Sheriff's office, Russ Martin again read the telegram he'd received just days earlier. Russ - Will Tyler dead - Clay Tyler wounded - trial in Slack Creek Thursday - will try to postpone the hanging until you arrive - Tom. So few words and yet they changed his life, changed his outlook.

Four years earlier, the Tyler gang had ridden into his town, into Stillwater. Four years ago, a stray bullet had taken the life of his wife, Ellie. Four years ago, his own bullet had ended Ed Tyler's life. Four years ago, everything he'd ever known had become meaningless.

He knew he'd missed the trial, but hoped he wouldn't miss the hanging. More than anything else, he wanted to see Clay Tyler pay for what his family had done.

Groups of people milled around the main street. He didn't have to ask anyone about the outcome of the morning's trial. The jubilation on their faces told him Clay Tyler would surely hang the next morning.

He wasted no time in getting to Tom Claxton's office. He'd met Tom just after he and Ellie were married, just after he took the job of sheriff in Stillwater. Tom had been visiting family and stopped in to meet the new sheriff. They formed an instant friendship. It was Tom who consoled him after Ellie's death, first with a visit and later with long letters.

"Russ, it's good to see you. Guess I don't have to ask how you're feeling. It's written all over your face."

"It's good to see you, too, Tom," Russ replied. "Can I see him?"

"Of course you can, but I'd better warn you, you won't find what you expect."

"What do you mean?"

"Clay Tyler isn't much more than a boy. I'd be surprised if he's even nineteen. He ain't hardly said a word since I put him in his cell, not even at his trial. Seems like he's just trying to accept what tomorrow morning will bring."

"Nineteen?" Russ repeated. He'd heard what Tom said, but had trouble believing Clay's age. Had Ed been so young? He couldn't remember what the man even looked like.

"That's about what I reckon. He hardly has the beginnings of a beard. Such a waste, but he is a Tyler and you know what they are."

Russ nodded. There was no use in trying to figure anything else. He wanted to see at least one of the monsters that had killed Ellie hang for their crime.

Tom got to his feet and Russ followed him to the cell area. A lantern burned, bathing Clay in an eerie light. "Someone here to see you, boy," Tom said.

Clay raised his head and looked into Russ' eyes. "Did you come to see the condemned man, mister?" he asked.

"Guess you could say as much," Russ replied. "I'm Russ Martin. I won't make no bones about the fact that I came to see you hang. You killed my wife when you robbed the bank in Stillwater."

"Where?"

"Stillwater, in Oklahoma Territory. You must remember. It's the town where Ed got killed."

Clay nodded, tears beginning to spill down his cheeks. "I'm right sorry, mister. I don't remember towns, I don't remember much, but I do remember Ed gettin' killed. Do you know who done it?"

Russ swallowed hard. "I did. At least I think I did. Everyone was shooting. I like to think it was my bullet, like to think I made him pay for what you did to Ellie."

"Ellie? Was she your wife? You don't have to answer. If she wasn't your wife, you wouldn't be here, would you? They're goin' to hang me in the mornin'. Would you mind if I talked to you for a while?"

Russ looked at Tom, who merely shrugged his shoulders as though he could, in no way, understand the boy's motives. "Guess it won't hurt none," Russ finally said.

"I don't want him here." Clay pointed at Tom. "Only you."

Russ nodded and waited for Tom to leave and close the door before he pulled a chair up close to the bars of the cell.

"You must think I've lost my mind, askin' to talk to you and all," Clay began, "but I have to talk to someone. I can't talk to a preacher, it wouldn't be right, me bein' who I am and all."

Russ nodded. He could understand about the preacher. He'd not been in church since Ellie's funeral, not confessed his part in Ed's death to anyone but himself, even though everyone in town thought he'd been the one to bring the man down. "Why me?" he finally asked.

"Because you shot Ed. You know what it's like to kill a man. Most folks don't know, they just don't know what you carry around inside of you. It don't go away. I want you to know about the Tylers, all of them. I want you to understand we didn't start out this way. It won't help me none, but maybe it will do some good for Gary and Jesse."

"Gary and Jesse?" Russ questioned.

"Gary's been ridin' with us for the past three years. They always call him the masked one. Can't understand why Pa hasn't let his name be known, but he will. Gary's different from the rest of us. He don't belong with Pa."

"What do you mean he doesn't belong?"

Clay remained silent for a long moment, as though he wondered if he were doing the right thing. Slowly the words began to come and Russ listened, trying to understand their meaning.

"He - he should have gone on to school, got an education, made something of himself. He'll never adjust to our kind of life. He can't pull the trigger, even to shoot a rabbit. He cries a lot at night, when he thinks no one is awake. I know he hates what he's become, but he can't leave. He's got a price on his head, he'll hang, just like I'll hang."

"How old is he?" Russ asked becoming intrigued with the Tyler he'd only heard referred to as 'the masked one' in the past.

"Gary's gonna turn eighteen in the fall. You'd think he would have learned to do as Pa says by now, but he hasn't. He just takes his beatings and does the same things over and over again."

Russ shook his head to rid himself of the image of an intelligent young man being forced into the life Clay described. "What about this Jesse?" Russ finally asked. "What's he like?"

For the first time Clay laughed. "Jesse ain't a he, Jesse's a she. She just turned sixteen a few weeks back. Doubt she'll ever see twenty, though. If she ain't dead by then, Pa will have sold her off to some bordello in Mexico, probably to someone like Isabella. Pa seems right fond of that old whore. They'll work something out. A fiery redhead with green eyes will bring a handsome price. Knowin' Pa, he'll make some sort of deal to get part of her earnings, too."

"A girl?" Russ questioned, unable to believe his ears. "I've never heard of a girl riding with the Tylers."

"Don't reckon you have. Pa just went back to get her a few weeks back."

Russ listened, intrigued by the words. Little by little, Clay told him about Jesse, little by little, Russ began to picture a young girl treated worse than an animal by her father and brothers.

"She's like Gary, she just don't belong," Clay finally said.

"So why tell me about the two of them?"

"I can't save either of them from Pa or my brother, Frank, for that matter. Maybe by tellin' you about them, I can save my soul, if not my life. It probably won't ever happen, but someday you may hear one of them has been caught. Could be you might remember what I told you about them. I'd like to think maybe you'd tell folks the truth about them. The thought of either of them bein' hanged makes me sick."

"Why do you think I'd ever lift a finger to help a Tyler, especially after what you've done to me?"

"I don't know. I just had a feelin' when I saw you. I know you hate us. I even know you only came here to see me hang, but you don't strike me as a man who would let kids like Gary and Jesse pay for something they ain't done. With me it's different. I've done everything I've been accused of. I became what Pa wanted me to become and I deserve whatever I get. I'm ready to die. At least I won't have to follow Pa's orders or face Frank's bullwhip anymore."

"I can't say I'll ever come to the rescue of a Tyler," Russ said. "It goes against my grain. I will watch you hang tomorrow and then I'm going to start a new life. I plan to get away from this area, away from anyone who even knows the name of Caleb Tyler. He ruined my life once. I won't let him do it again. Maybe you can't understand it, but I doubt I'll ever attend another hanging after today. Watching you die will close this chapter of my life and I swear I'll never so much as think about the Tylers again, as long as I live."

Clay smiled. "I can understand how you feel, but don't expect the Tylers to disappear from your life so easily. Once Caleb touches you, you're never the same. Because of him, you've killed a man. Now, you've come to see me hang. Believe me, you will never be the same again, and Caleb will enter your life whether you want him to or not."

* * *

"Well, that's done," Tom said, once the trap door opened and Clay Tyler dropped to his death. "Will you be going back to Stillwater on the train or can I persuade you to stay on for a few days?"

"Neither," Russ replied. "I'm moving on. I'm going to get as far away from here as I can."

"I don't understand. Don't you want to be close enough to know when someone catches another of the Tylers."

"One hanging in a lifetime is more than enough. I'm going to start over, forget I ever heard the name of Tyler."

"What did he say to you last night?"

"More than I wanted to hear. It doesn't matter what he said. What matters is how I heard it."

Russ turned away from Tom, just in time to see the undertaker removed Clay Tyler's lifeless body from the enclosure beneath the gallows.

* * *

The conversation with Clay rang in Russ' mind as he boarded the train. Where will this train take me, he silently questioned himself. What will my life be like? Can I really start over? Can I forget what the Tylers did to Ellie, to me?

You have to start over again, Russ, Ellie's voice sounded in his ears. Watching Clay Tyler hang hasn't brought me back, nothing can. Put all of this from your mind. Find someone to love and raise a family.

Clarkston, Nebraska - April, 1882

Jesse Tyler closed the worn Bible and got up from the chair. After her father's return in January, her mother began to slip away, as though she no longer cared for life.

Jesse could not remember when her father lived at home. She had only been five or six when he first went away; in another week, she would turn thirteen and be a woman; in another year, her father would return to the farm and take her away with him, as he had done with her brothers.

Over the past five years, Caleb returned to the farm once a year, taking Frank, Ed, Will, Clay and now even Gary away with him. At first, her mother believed Caleb took the boys to work with him on a ranch in Texas. It didn't take long for stories of the Outlaw Caleb Tyler and his ruthless sons to reach Clarkston.

Just last summer, she'd heard how Ed had been killed in a small Oklahoma town. As usual, stories of Caleb's exploits brought looks of hatred from the people in town.

In January, Caleb again returned, taking her last remaining brother, Gary, with him. Now only Jesse and her mother were left to struggle with the farm.

Although Gary promised to keep her safe, Caleb's parting words overshadowed the promise her brother made.

Being two years younger than Gary, she prayed Caleb would forget she existed.

Her mother moaned softly and Jesse returned to the parlor. "Can I get you something, Ma?" she asked.

"Just hold the basin. I no longer have the strength," her mother whispered.

Jesse held the basin while her mother vomited her breakfast, mixed with blood. When Laura lay back against the pillows, she reached out to touch Jesse's hand.

"When I'm gone, get away from here. Don't let him do this to you."

"I will, I promise, Ma," Jesse replied, wondering where she would go and how she would live.

She waited for her mother to fall asleep before going to the kitchen. She rinsed the basin with the last of the water. Taking the empty pail she went out to the pump to refill it.

"I hate him!" she said aloud, as she pumped water from the well, the rusty handle dirtying her hands.

If only Caleb had stayed away, everything would be different. Gary would be in St. Louis going to school, and her mother wouldn't be dying.

Caleb had been harsh with Laura before. This time his anger over Gary's thirst for an education and Laura's insistence he should be allowed to pursue his dream, brought on a vicious beating, one from which Laura hadn't recovered.

She finished pumping the water and turned toward the house. At the end of the lane, she noticed a buggy with two people in it.

No one ever stops out here, she told herself, dismissing the visitors without giving them much thought.

"Are you Jesse?" she heard someone say.

Turing back, she saw the couple had pulled into the dooryard. She put down the bucket and hurried to greet them, to be hospitable.

"Depends on who's askin'," she replied.

The man got out of the carriage and she marveled at his size. "I'm Reverend David Long and this is my wife, Hattie."

For the first time, Jesse focused on the woman. Blinking her eyes, she looked at her again. The resemblance to Jesse's mother disturbed her.

"I'm your Aunt Hattie, dear, your mother's sister," the woman said.

"I-I've heard Ma talk about you," Jesse stammered.

She noticed the man hold out his hand and hid her own hands, suddenly aware of the calluses and dirt, which hadn't mattered moments earlier. "I'd shake your hand, Reverend, but I'm all dirty."

"Don't ever apologize for the dirt from honest labor, child," the man said.

Jesse hung her head and lowered her eyes. "Where are my manners? I should have invited you in right off. Ma would skin me alive, if she had the strength. I have some coffee on the stove and some bread I made yesterday."

She turned away from the woman, still stunned by the uncanny resemblance Hattie Long had to her mother, and led them into the house. For the first time, in too many months, she looked at her home. She remembered how her mother had always prided herself on the neat appearance of her house. These past few months, there had been no time for keeping things neat and clean, no time for anything but doing chores and tending to her mother's needs.

She picked up a towel from the table and wiped out two coffee cups for the people who had followed her into the house.

"I hope you don't mind takin' your coffee black," she said. "I've been savin' the cream for Ma, and I ain't had time to skim it off this morning."

"Black will be just fine, child," David said. "How long has your mother...?"

A fit of coughing from behind the curtain prompted Jesse to get to her feet and hurry to her mother's side. Behind her, she heard her guests get up from their chairs and follow her, but she paid them no mind.

"Are you all right, Ma? Can I get you anything?"

Laura didn't open her eyes. "My Bible, Jesse," she whispered hoarsely. "I want my Bible."

Jesse picked up the worn book from the chair where she'd left it, and handed it to her mother. "We got company, Ma. There's a preacher in town now. He came out to see you. He brought along his wife, she says she's your sister..."

Before she could finish, Laura opened her eyes. "Hattie? Is Hattie here? I must see her."

"Yes, Laura, I'm here. I wish I would have known how ill you were, I would have come to you sooner," the woman said, once she knelt beside the day bed.

"I got chores to do, Ma. I'll go out and do them while you and Mrs. Long have yourselves a good visit."

Jesse left the room, relieved to have someone else to care for her mother.

"Are you all right, child?" David asked, putting his hand on her shoulder.

Jesse nodded. "You'll have to excuse me, Reverend, like I told Ma, I've got chores to do."

"Let me help you."

"I can do for myself. Ma ain't got long. I've known it for weeks. I'd like it if you'd read to her from the Bible. The Twenty-third Psalm is her favorite. I read other passages to her, but she always insists I read the Psalm to her first. She likes to say the words along with me, so when you read it, don't go too fast. I'll be back in as soon as I finish what I have to do outside."

Jesse left the house and went out to the barn. She'd milked the cow this morning, but there were eggs to be gathered and chickens to be fed. She silently wondered how long she would be able to keep the chickens.

The money her father left in January had dwindled quickly. She'd tried to be careful with it, not to spend more than she had, but it seemed as though the price of coffee, sugar and flour rose every time she went into town. She often thought Mr. Clark raised the prices because of his hatred of the Tylers, but she tried not to dwell on such dark thoughts. Mr. Clark had founded Clarkston and like the teacher said, he'd done a lot for the community. He'd started a church and even acted as the preacher for the services held in the tavern.

Thinking of the church in town, she remembered when it first started. Her Ma had been so anxious to go, she had told them that come Sunday she would scrub them all until their skin burned, and get them dressed in their best clothes so that they could walk the five miles into town. Of course it never happened. Ma had gone to town in the middle of the week, only to be told that the church was for the good people of Clarkston, not the Tylers. Even the rejection of the good citizens of Clarkston hadn't extinguished the fire of Laura Tyler's faith. She insisted they read from the Bible every night and even prayed for the salvation of the townspeople, the people who wanted nothing to do with the Tyler family.

As soon as she finished her chores, Jesse returned to the house. There would be things she'd need to do, especially with company. She knew her mother would be upset if she didn't prepare a meal, no matter how meager, for their guests.

When she entered the house, the expression on Mrs. Long's face told her Laura Tyler had passed on to a better life. There would be no more long hours spent listening to her mother cough; no more nights sleeping in a chair to be close by in case her mother needed her; no more reading from the Bible to ease her mother's mind.

"I'm sorry, Jesse. She slipped away while I held her hand," Hattie said, tears spilling from her eyes.

"It's best," Jesse replied, too hardened from the last few months to cry. "She's been powerful sick. I knew she wanted to go home to the Lord. I'd best fix us somethin' to eat. When we finish I'll get her ready for burial. She wants to rest out back of the house with Andy."

"Andy?" David inquired.

"My brother. He died right after he was born. Ma said he couldn't get his breath and he died. They buried him out back of the house. She wants to rest close to him."

David nodded. "I'll go out to the barn and see if I can find some wood for a coffin. Once it's ready, I'll dig the grave."

With Hattie's help, Jesse washed her mother's body and dressed her in the one good dress she owned. She debated about putting the wedding ring back on her mother's finger, but decided against it. Laura took the ring off in January and never put it back on. She'd broken the hold Caleb held over her and Jesse refused to tie her to someone she so despised, even in death.

With the burial finished, Hattie helped Jesse to pack her meager possessions. As the carriage pulled from the dooryard, Jesse said good-bye to the only life she ever knew, and went into town to live with the strangers who professed to be her family.

March, 1885

Jesse finished cleaning the parsonage and set about preparing supper. With her aunt over at the church for a Ladies Aid meeting, and her uncle visiting a sick parishioner, she would be responsible for the evening meal. She didn't mind. Unlike the life she had lived three years earlier, her household tasks had become a labor of love.

Since her mother's death, she had grown from a frightened child to a woman. She smiled as she thought about Walter Carson. He would be coming over after supper to ask Uncle David for her hand. Walter had been working the farm ever since she moved into town. Under his expert hand, he managed to produce a good crop every year.

Ever since Advent, he'd been coming around the parsonage. At first he came to talk about the farm and to tell her how well the fields were producing, but soon the talk turned to the future. Since she would soon be sixteen, he had asked if she would mind if he asked Uncle David for her hand. Of course, she hadn't objected. She fancied herself in love with the tall, lanky farmer and knew she could be happy with him.

A knock at the door turned her mind from Walter and the life they would soon share to her unknown visitor. She dried her hands on the towel she kept beside her while she worked, and hurried to answer the insistent knocking.

As she opened the door, she froze. Her father stood in the doorway, smiling at her, the way he always smiled at her. "It's time, Jesse Girl, time for you to come with me. Your brothers are powerful excited to see you again."

"Stay away from me, Pa. Just stay away from me. I have a life here. You can't make me go with you."

"I can make you do anything I want you to do," Caleb growled, grasping her arm before she could run from him. "Now, you're comin' with me."

Jesse tried to strike out, to free herself from his vise-like grip, but her struggles only infuriated her father. "If you won't come like your brothers, you'll come with me my way."

Before she could protest, Caleb drew back his fist. The instant pain of the blow sent her into the bliss of unconsciousness.

* * *

Jesse fought her way back from the black depths. Her jaw hurt and her body ached. She tried to stretch, but ropes bound her hands and feet, making it impossible for her to move.

"She's startin' to come around, Caleb. I didn't think she'd ever come to," Jesse heard a strange woman say. "You shouldn't have hit her so hard. You could have killed her. She ain't one of your boys, you know. She's a delicate little thing. Let me untie her and get her something to eat."

"Leave her be, Lottie. You can feed her, but you can't untie her. I know what's best. She's got more spunk than the boys. She'd try to run away and I can't have her goin' back to that preacher."

Jesse opened her eyes and saw a large woman bending over her. The woman reached out her hand and stroked Jesse's hair.

"You poor little thing," the woman crooned. "Drink some of this broth."

"I don't want anything from you," Jesse whispered.

Without warning, Caleb pulled her hair and forced her to look into his face. "You'll do as Lottie says. If it were up to me, I wouldn't feed you 'til you begged for it."

"Then why did you take me away? I had a good life. I..."

Caleb slapped her hard, bringing tears to her eyes. Before he could strike her again, the woman intervened. "You've hurt her enough, Caleb. You go in the other room while I tend to her needs. When I'm finished, I'll take care of you."

"Who are you?" Jesse asked, once Caleb went into the other room.

"It don't matter, child. Your pa, he's got a mean streak. I don't think he'd give killin' you a second thought. He told me he couldn't tolerate you bein' brought up by no preacher. You're the only one who can take care of yourself now. Do as he says and he won't hurt you as much. Now drink this broth. I have to get in and take care of his needs. You'll be ridin' out in the mornin' and you can't do it on an empty stomach."

Jesse sipped the rich broth and then closed her eyes. Her worst nightmare had come true. Caleb came for her and changed her life forever. She fell asleep almost instantly, dreaming of what could have been, of what would never be.

* * *

Jesse lost track of the days and nights they spent on the trail to Mexico. When they hadn't been able to find a place to stay, they were forced to spend the night in the open. Even then she hadn't been free. Caleb would bind her hand and foot. Once she was securely bound he would attach a rope around her neck, tying the other end to his own wrist. She knew she had no means of escape, no chance for a better life.

"Over the next rise is your new home, Jesse Girl," Caleb said, late one afternoon. "You'll see your brothers tonight and tomorrow you'll start working for Mendoza. He said he could use a girl at the house. Just remember, even though he'll treat you good, if I hear one word about you tryin' to leave, I swear I'll whip the hide off your body."

Jesse merely nodded. She had said very little during the trip south. She knew there was nothing to say. In the past weeks, her father stripped every shred of normalcy from her life, leaving her frightened and withdrawn.

A crude shack came into view and Jesse immediately recognized Gary tending the fire. Caleb reined his horse to a halt and swung out of the saddle. Jesse merely waited for him to roughly pull her from the back of the horse, the way he'd done so many times before.

Once on the ground, each of her brothers embraced her. She hardly recognized any of them. They had become men while riding with Caleb and their features were hardened. Only Gary treated her tenderly, untying her wrists and holding her tightly.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I tried to keep him from comin' for you, I honestly did. Come over to the fire and I'll get you something to eat."

"I don't want anything from you!" she spat, unable to control her emotions.

"Look, neither of us can change anything. Just do as Pa says and you'll be fine."

"Come over here, Jesse Girl," Caleb shouted, interrupting Gary. "I've got somethin' for you."

Jesse followed Gary toward the fire, afraid not to obey, afraid of taking another beating.

"This is for you," Caleb said, holding out a hand-tooled holster, which cradled a pearl-handled colt revolver. "You're goin' to learn how to use it. Clay will show you how to shoot. Gary will teach you how to handle a horse. By the end of the summer, I expect you to shoot as well as Clay, ride as well as Gary, and be as ruthless as Frank. Do I make myself clear?"

Jesse nodded. None of this made any sense to her. Why did God let Caleb take me away with him? What have I ever done to deserve such a severe punishment?

"Do as he says," Gary whispered to her, as they cleaned up from supper. "It ain't worth the pain."

"Are you as good a shot as Clay, as ruthless as Frank?" she asked.

Gary hung his head. "No, I ain't and I suffer for it. I can't shoot to kill. I can't even hit the target. Believe me, both Pa and Frank enjoy watching me fail. It gives them an excuse to beat me. If it wasn't for the way I handle horses, they would have killed me long ago. Listen to me, do as they say and you won't get hurt. Don't be like me."

Gary went on about his business giving Jesse time to think, time to digest what he had just told her.

When bedtime finally came, Caleb again secured her hands and feet. Bitter tears stung her eyes as he again tied the rope around her neck. "Why bother, Pa?" she questioned. "There's no place for me to go. I don't think I could ever find my way back. Why don't you just let me sleep peacefully?"

Caleb said nothing, nor did he remove the ropes. Alone and scared, she cried herself to sleep, afraid of what the morning might bring.

* * *

Jesse had worked in the Mendoza household for almost three weeks. To her surprise, almost everyone in the household spoke flawless English. Although she worked hard, she didn't mind the tasks they asked her to do.

She'd just finished washing the floor of the dining room, when the Mendoza's five-year-old daughter, Carmalita, came into the room crying. Touched by the child's tears, she knelt down to comfort her. "Are you hurt?" she asked the child.

Carmalita shook her head. "I-I tore my new dress."

Jesse examined the three-corner tear near the hem of the child's garment. "I have to wait for this floor to dry. I saw a room upstairs for sewing. Come with me and I'll mend it for you."

The child stared at her, wide-eyed, as she made fine stitches to repair the tear. When she finished, she could hardly even see where the fabric had been torn.

"There, this will be our little secret. No one will ever know what happened."

The little girl hugged Jesse tightly before running off to play. Jesse carefully put away the needle and thread. Once everything was returned to its place she closed the door silently. She knew she shouldn't have come up to this room, but Carmalita's grateful hug made her glad she acted on impulse.

When she came downstairs, the woman who told her what to do pulled her aside. "You must have done something very bad," the woman cautioned. "Senor and Senora Mendoza want to see you in the library. If you value your life, you will act very humble and beg their forgiveness for whatever it is you have done."

Cautiously, Jesse entered the library. "Come here," Senor Mendoza ordered.

Jesse did as he told her, keeping her eyes downcast as she went to his side.

"Are you afraid of me?" he asked, lifting her chin so he could look into her eyes.

"What have I done?" she questioned.

"Sit down," Senora Mendoza advised. "Carmalita told us she tore her dress when she was playing and you mended it for her."

Jesse began to panic. How could she have expected such a small child not to tell her mother what had happened? "I'm sorry. She seemed so sad I only wanted to make her happy. I know I shouldn't have touched the things in the sewing room, but I put everything back where I found it."

"Did you think we would punish you for helping our daughter?" Senora Mendoza pressed. "On the contrary, we are very happy you helped her. I've never seen finer stitching. I know you will be going north soon, but when you return, I would like to have you do all of my sewing. The woman who has been doing it for me is getting too old to see her work. It is time she rested."

Jesse couldn't believe her ears. Soon she would no longer have to scrub the floors and keep the house clean. She would be able to spend her days doing something she enjoyed.

When she left the house, later that afternoon, Clay met her at the door. "I didn't expect to see you," she greeted him. "What happened to Pa? He's always here waiting for me."

"Pa and Will rode north to check out a town not too far from the border. It will be our first job. You'll see, Jes, once you start ridin' with us, you'll come to enjoy it."

Jesse turned to face her older brother. She could hardly understand how he could believe the words he just spoke. "Does Gary enjoy it?" she snapped.

"No, but learn from his mistakes, Jes. Do as you're told and things will be much easier for you."

"Don't you understand, if I do the things you and the others do, I'll surely go to Hell. I can't rob banks and murder innocent people and still be a Christian."

Clay grabbed her arm tightly and turned her until her face almost touched his. "Don't be a fool, Jes. You'll learn it, just like the rest of us. There ain't no God for the Tylers. If you insist on hangin' onto the hogwash Ma and that preacher told you, keep it to yourself. If Pa and Frank hear you, they'll beat you bloody."

Jesse withdrew into her own private shell and tried to block out the words Clay had spoken. She'd loved him once. He was her older brother, and someone she looked up to. Now, he'd become as heartless as her father.

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