Chapter Five

Zachariah had a goddamn headache.

His skull had taken more knocks in the last few days than it had in a long long time. Without opening his eyes, Zachariah took stock of his situation. He was sitting in a hard backed chair. His hands were tied behind the chair and his ankles were tied in front of him. He was indoors and he could tell there were quite a few people surrounding him.

Two of those people were currently having an argument.

"Dammit, Jebidiah, quit mother henning me to death! I'm fine!"

"I'm not mother henning you, dammit."

"Just let him love you, Gill. He loves you so good."

"Nobody asked you, Pete," the man, who must have been Jeb, replied. "What the hell happened to your face, Gilliam? Is that bastard the one that hit you?"

"No," Gill assured him.

"Wyatt said he ran into a post," a female voice spoke up.

Laughter rang out and Zachariah cracked open his eye to see a gap-toothed man with red hair. "He never has been real graceful."

Zachariah noticed Gill standing to the side and another man, a man who was tall and lithe in build with short dark blond hair and green eyes, was tending to his face with concern and dedication. Gill appeared stuck somewhere between annoyance and reverence as he watched the man.

Zachariah squirmed a bit and attempted to avert his gaze. It wasn't often he met men who were like him and it happened even less often that those men were in relationships and were openly affectionate.

"I believe he's waking up," the female voice spoke again.

Suddenly, Wyatt's face was directly in front of him and Zachariah opened his eyes fully. He saw the welted cut on Wyatt's cheekbone and growled low. Damn that Gus and his friends for not only picking on someone weaker and smaller than they were, but also someone who hadn't done a damn thing to them to deserve the treatment.

'You okay?' Wyatt mouthed.

Zachariah grumbled. "I'd be a lot damn better if you crazy people would stop hitting me in the head and tying me up."

Wyatt moved when Jeb came to stand in front of the chair. "And I'd be a lot damn better if I didn't have a bounty hunter wandering around my land."

Zachariah rolled his eyes. "I'm not a threat to any of you. Did I, or did I not, just hop into a fight that wasn't mine to protect Wyatt?"

"Bounties are worth more alive," the red-head, Pete, spoke up. "Of course then you have to listen to 'em bitching and moaning the whole way back to town."

"Nothing worse than bitching and moaning," Gill agreed.

Zachariah pulled on the ropes but they were tied tight. He wasn't going anywhere until these jackasses let him go. "I'm no longer a bounty hunter," he admitted. He was speaking to Jeb but for some reason his gaze kept returning to Wyatt who stood off to the side and watched him closely. "I was one for a long time, took down a lot of men and made a fair living. I have a sister, a half-sister, she's seven years my junior. Some men were angry because I took down their boss and they have her. I'm trying to find her and every second counts. I really don't have time for this bullshit."

"You say you were a bounty hunter. Does that mean you're not now?" Jeb asked.

"That's exactly what that means," Zachariah agreed. "Now if y'all don't mind..."

"Who has your sister?" Gill asked, stepping forward.

Zachariah took note of the swollen lip and busted nose the man was sporting. "That's my business..."

"And I'm making it mine," Gill countered, that air of authority once again seeping out of the man's every pore.

Zachariah grumbled. "Clint Garfield. He and his band of merry idiots have her. I took down their boss, Russel Crote and instead of coming after me, they grabbed up my sister."

"That's the way with most cowards," Gill noted.

"Uh-oh.. call him off, Jeb," Pete warned. "That's Gill's lawman face."

"Gilliam... you're not a lawman anymore."

"That doesn't mean I'm okay with standing by while an innocent woman is held captive. Now if Zachariah needs help to rescue his sister...."

"I never said I needed help."

"You won't help do anything."

Zachariah and Jeb spoke at the same time.

"Can you let me go now?" Zachariah snapped. "I've been honest and I can't see any reason for y'all to keep me trussed up here."

Wyatt stepped forward and quickly undid Zachariah's bonds before anyone could speak. Zachariah brought his hands to the front and rubbed at his wrists. "Thanks."

Wyatt simply smiled and nodded. Zachariah quickly looked away from that smile. It was far too innocent and far too wide for the other man's good.

Zachariah stood slowly. "Am I free to go now or would someone else like to knock me unconscious before I leave town?"

Wyatt laughed, though no sound came from his mouth. Zachariah couldn't help but noticing, before he glanced away, that Wyatt's face lit up when he laughed.

"I'm familiar with the men he's after," Gill informed Jeb, paying no attention to Zachariah as he let his eyes scan the tiny cabin they were in for his weapons.

"All the more reason for you to keep your ass home, Gilliam," Jeb grumbled. "We don't need the wrong people recognizing you."

"I don't need help," Zachariah insisted yet again. It didn't appear as though anyone other than Wyatt heard a word he spoke—he wasn't sure why he kept trying.

"Gill, I have to agree with Jeb on this one," the woman, a pretty blond with a large belly, spoke up. "You don't know this man, or his sister, and you can't go running off to help them."

"I don't want him to," Zachariah mumbled. This family was clearly a full bubble off of plumb.

It seemed that his words finally fell on listening ears because Gill turned to face him. "You don't want help?"

Zachariah shook his head, his long braid falling down his back since his hat, which he usually kept it hidden inside, had been lost somewhere along the way. "I made this mess and I'll tend to it myself." He shrugged. "Just as soon as you brain addled folks will let me leave."

Jeb stepped forward, his fists clenched at his side and his jaw popping with tension. "You'll change your tone toward us if you know what's good for you. You were found trespassing on my land and you failed to state your business. You refused to admit to being a bounty hunter before you ran away—"

"Ex-bounty hunter," Pete chimed in. Jeb glared at him and Pete shrugged. "Just keeping everything straight."

"Pete?" Gill groaned, holding the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

"Yeah?"

"Don't."

"Okay."

Jebidiah continued. "You helped Wyatt in town and that's the only reason I didn't kill you the minute you got here. My family has good reason to not trust bounty hunters."

"Your family's criminal history is none of my business," Zachariah assured him. "And I was on your land by accident. I'd be happy to get off it if y'all would give me back my weapons and let me be on my way."

"I still feel like we should help him..." Gill stated.

"Gilliam, I need you more than Zachariah needs you," Jeb stated, his voice low and urgent. Then he turned to Zachariah. "I'll take you back into town since that's where we left your horse."

Wyatt jumped forward and shook his head, his mouth moving a mile a minute. Jeb held up his hand. "What?"

Wyatt's gaze went sky ward and he let out a long sigh before saying what he was trying to say more slowly. "You want to take him?" Jeb demanded.

Wyatt nodded and the woman frowned. "Are you sure?"

Again Wyatt nodded. Jeb shook his head. "Okay, Pete can come too so you're not alone...."

'No.' Wyatt mouthed clearly.

Zachariah grumbled. Did they not trust him to be alone with Wyatt? Hell, he wouldn't hurt the man. And they kept treating Wyatt as if he were a child.... The man might be a little off center but he seemed smart enough.

"Every second you spend arguing and debating is a second my sister won't get back.." he reminded everyone.

The group around him shared one last long look before Jeb nodded toward the door. "Don't come around here anymore," he warned.

Zachariah was quick to agree. Damn brain-addled bunch of lunatics. With Wyatt on his heels, Zachariah made his escape, surprised to find that his weapons were sitting just outside the door.

As he armed himself, Zachariah felt a tug on his shirt sleeve and he turned to look into Wyatt's wide brown eyes. 'Sorry.' Wyatt mouthed. 'Thank you,' he added.

Zachariah shrugged. "Gus and his posse deserved worse than they got. I won't stand by and watch someone be abused like that. Though, I have to admit, you and your pals here are the most paranoid bastards I've ever met."

Wyatt chewed his lip a moment and headed quickly for the barn. Zachariah sighed, wondered if he'd ever understand these people, and followed after the man. As he followed the quiet man, his gaze was helplessly drawn to the way his gray trousers hugged his rather perfect ass.

At least the view back to town wouldn't be too bad.

***

Wyatt stood outside the livery and watched Zachariah ride out of town. The man had seemed eager to leave and itching to be away. Wyatt couldn't blame him—hell, he and his family had to have come off as more than a little crazy to the giant, scarred up ex-bounty hunter.

Nibbling at his lip, Wyatt wondered about his feelings. He was attracted to the other man and not at all happy with knowing that he'd never see him again. Zachariah had helped Wyatt. Wyatt may very well have died had the man not come along when he had. It just didn't settle well in Wyatt's gut to let Zachariah go off and face the danger of rescuing his sister alone—Wyatt owed him.

Then again, Wyatt owed his family more. He couldn't simply abandon them—even if they were all busy with their lives and didn't seem to remember he was around very often any more.

Movement caught his eye and Wyatt smiled when he realized Craig was stepping out of the brothel beside the saloon. That was just what Wyatt was in bad need off—some time spent with his best friend.

Wyatt jogged up the road to catch up to the other man and he was smiling ear to ear as he tapped Craig on the shoulder. That smile vanished the instant Craig whirled around.

The man looked terrible.

His eyes were bloodshot, his skin pale and his clothes stained. He smelled like three day old sweat and a whiskey vat. Craig scratched at his stubble covered cheek and sneered. "What the hell do you want? Are you checking up on me? Dammit, Wyatt, I told you I'd be back in a few days! I don't need you acting like some goddamn mother hen to me all the time!"

Wyatt felt as if he'd been punched in the gut. He stumbled back a step or two. Craig simply spit in the dirt and turned again, stumbling toward the saloon.

Wyatt stood there in the street and desperately fought back the tears burning his eyes. He had always done everything he could for his family and now.... Now they all acted as if he were in the way—especially Craig.

Swallowing hard, Wyatt squared his shoulders. If Craig didn't want him around then Wyatt would give the man what he wanted and make sure he wasn't around!

He grabbed up a few supplies from the mercantile, carefully watching the doorway to ensure no one was going to come after him, and then, after leaving a note with Maria so she could get it to Gill and Jeb, Wyatt hopped on his horse and headed out of town.

He owed Zachariah a debt and he might as well see to getting it paid.

n