AND JILL CAME TUMBLING AFTER

Jimmy had promised to be there for Jack, and while he had made that promise with every intention of keeping it, it soon became easier to stay away than to see the unconcealed sadness in her eyes, to feel her tangible grief cloaking him like a blanket.

In the relatively short time that Jack had been back in Sweetwater, Jimmy had grown used to a life of happiness. Not a day had gone by when Jack had not greeted him with smiles and kisses and laughter; always there was Maddy to play with and tuck into bed at night, to throw her arms around him and beg for a song. Now Maddy was gone and Jack was solemn and subdued, a mere ghost of the lively, affectionate woman she had been. It seemed to Jimmy that not only had he lost the child, but the mother as well.

Life carried on, as it always had before, and soon there was laughter and happiness again, but always with the faint taste of bitterness. Everyone knew that the day would come when they would be able to smile and giggle without guilt or sadness, but it still seemed a long way off. Jack was quieter than before, and laughed less often, but in the end it was Jimmy that they worried about the most.

It started out simply enough, but then such stories often did: a glass of whiskey in the saloon every night to take the chill in his heart away; one glass quickly turning into two, and then three. Pretty soon the whiskey was accompanied by bourbon chasers, every once in a while a bit of tequila for variety. Jimmy began keeping company with the town drunks.

He told himself he had gotten to the lowest point in his life, and the liquor just helped to bring him back up a bit, helped him to feel more like the James Hickok he remembered himself to be. Liquor took the edge off and made life just a little bit rosier. He stopped thinking of Maddy's little voice in his ear, stopped choking from the guilt that threatened to do him in, stopped missing Jack so much he couldn't eat or sleep or feel anything but the ache inside him. Life was just about as miserable as he had ever imagined it could be. He saw no way out, no light at the end of the tunnel, just more emptiness, more unhappiness.

"I just wasn't meant to be happy," he slurred to Lonnie Russell one evening as they both sat nursing their bottles of rye. Lonnie nodded appreciatively, as if he understood completely. In fact, he was barely hanging on to his last shred of sobriety, and Jimmy's words had hardly penetrated his foggy brain.

"Don't ya see? Everything in my life has gone to hell. No matter how good it may seem at first, it goes to hell!" He began to pound his fist on the table for emphasis, striking with each example he made, "My pa -- my ma -- joinin' the Express -- fallin' for Lou -- fallin' for Jack -- lovin' Maddy like she was my own -- askin' Jack to marry me. You see? Everything starts out all right, maybe even looks like it's gonna work out for me, but it don't! I just get kicked around a bit more!"

Lonnie nodded again, his lids dropping down over his cloudy eyes. With a crash, he fell face-first on to the hard table and lay there, drooling. Jimmy ignored him. He had noticed his apathy increasing the more he drank, and he just couldn't make himself care. On the flip side, his temper had grown shorter. It seemed now that it only took the smallest fuse to light it up. Earlier this morning he had lashed out at Lou when she had admonished him on his new drinking habits. Then later he had stepped on one of Adam's toy soldiers and nearly scared the poor child senseless with his yelling. He hated this new side of himself even more, but he couldn't seem to stop it. He shuddered as he recalled how Kid had stormed out of the house at that moment, catching Jimmy as he stood over the boy and shouted at the top of his lungs.

"Jimmy!" Kid's voice, usually so calm and placid, had roared deep from the porch.

Jimmy had stopped abruptly, coloring with shame. Adam stood with tears running down his face. Never in his young life had Jimmy spoken to him that way. When Kid spoke again, his voice was hard as steel.

"Jimmy, your new drinkin' buddies might not think much of bawlin' out a little boy, but I'll damn sure knock you to hell and back if you ever speak to my son that way again."

"I'm sorry, Kid, I --"

"I know you're sorry. That's the perfect word for you, Jimmy Hickok: sorry. You're one sorry bastard, usin' sorry excuses for the new sorry life you're leadin'." Kid had taken Adam's hand in his and stopped to give Jimmy one last, lingering look of disgust. "If you ever decide to straighten up your act and be the decent fella I know's hidin' in there somewhere -- well, you know where to find us. In the meantime, do yourself a favor, do Jack a favor, hell, do us all a favor, and stay away until that time comes."

Now Jimmy thought of these words and wished he hadn't. He shook his head to ward them off from bothering him further and took a long pull on the whiskey bottle. If he had had the presence of mind to be ashamed of himself he certainly would have, sitting there drinking straight out of the bottle like a common drunk. But he didn't feel shame. He only felt tired and worn out, tired of failing people, tired of life failing him, tired of having things snatched right out from under his nose before he even had the chance to enjoy them. It was just time to give up on life. He sure as hell wasn't doing anybody any good sticking around.

Fingers tapped on his shoulder. "Are you Wild Bill Hickok?" The gruff voice behind him didn't sound terribly friendly.

"Dammit, how many times do I have to tell you ignorant knotheads my name is *James* Hickok?" Jimmy spun around on his barstool and faced his visitor.

"Well, I don't really give a damn *what* your name is, fella," the man answered. "I just wanna be sure you're the same low-down piece a'trash that got away from me in Apple Ridge some years back. And you are. One and the same." The man was six feet-four inches of ugly unpleasantness made no more
appealing by the amount of alcohol Jimmy had imbibed.

"What the hell are you talkin' about?" Jimmy hiccupped unselfconsciously. "Where the hell is Apple Ridge?"

"You don't remember me, son? About six or seven years back? Runnin' around lookin' for a friend of yours, and makin' me look a fool in the process?"

"Mister, I don't have a clue who you are. Now go away and let me be. I ain't never been to no place called Apple Ridge." Jimmy turned back to his bottle and froze. Something was making its way through his alcohol-clouded brain. That name: Apple Ridge. Another thought slowly connected: Jack. That was the Express station Jack had been with when she arrived in Rock Creek all those years ago. Suddenly his head cleared and he knew that he had never laid eyes on this man before, but that he was somehow connected to Jack. He whirled back around. "What do you want with Jack?" he demanded.

The man's face lightened. "Ah, so you *do* know what I'm talkin' about."

Jimmy shook his head. "Not exactly, but if it's got anything to do with Jack, then I'm makin' it my business, whatever it is."

"Well, I'm Bart Phillips, and that little whore you call Jack worked for me out at the Apple Ridge station, back when the Express was still runnin'."

Jimmy felt his spine stiffen. "Don't you call her that." He pointed a finger in the man's face.

"Easy there, boy. Time enough for a fight later on, when you've sobered up."

Jimmy had never felt more sober in his life. "What the hell do you want?"

"I got a score to settle with you, Hickok."

A small crowd had gathered round, interest piqued. They had noted Jimmy Hickok's sad, slow decline with the bottle, and everyone around had their bets placed on what his next move might be. A penchant for fighting seemed to be winning out. Jimmy laughed, a short bark of a laugh. "Do you mean to tell me you've had nothin' better to do these past few years than sit and wait for your chance to even the score against a little thing like Jack?"

Bart's eyes narrowed. "I've had plenty to do these past few years, you arrogant pup. I ain't wasted too much energy on that girl. But I ain't never forgot that there was a debt to be collected, and now here's my chance. I believe in settlin' old scores, you bet I do."

"If you so much as lay a finger on her, I'll cut your heart out and feed it to my dogs." Jimmy spoke low, his voice menacing.

"I wouldn't touch that girl if she was the last woman on Earth," Bart scoffed. "But she made me look a fool, and I don't take kindly to bein' made a fool."

"I wouldn't think it was Jack that made you look a fool. Surely you can handle that all by yourself, you pathetic sonofabitch."

All Jimmy heard was a loud crack. All he felt was Bart's meaty fist connecting with his jaw. Darkness fell over his eyes for a moment and then he regained his vision long enough to swing out at Bart in return. He was rewarded with a howl of pain from the man, before his own knees gave way and he went crashing back onto the wooden table, finally awakening Lonnie. Glasses and bottles went flying, amber liquid shooting into the air, crashes reverberating on the hard floor. Bart bent over Jimmy, grabbing hold of his collar, pulling him up. And then there were running footsteps, hands pulling Bart up, sending him across the room. Jimmy recognized the Kid through blurry eyes. Within minutes a good old-fashioned bar fight was underway. Bart's cronies joined in, and Jimmy could see flashes of Buck's dark hair whipping around his face, the Kid's hat falling off his head and skidding across the floor, and Cody -- was that really Cody? -- joining in with his usual gusto. Jimmy tried to right himself but somehow couldn't manage the simple task. He could hear punches colliding with bodies, grunts and groans, shouts of pain, and then as quickly as it had all begun, it was over.

A shot rang out. "All right!" roared Teaspoon's voice. "This here brawl is *over*!"

Jimmy lifted his head and found Teaspoon standing in the doorway to the saloon, his gun aimed to the ceiling. Dust and shards of wood fell from the ceiling above where he stood. Silence fell. Teaspoon replaced his gun in his holster. "Now, if I had me a fella who wasn't drunk as a lord or beaten to a pulp I might have someone to make actin' deputy, someone who could help me haul these good-for-nothin's
into jail. Seein' as how I *don't*, I'm going to lead you all by the barrel of this here gun, right over to the jail. And yes, James Hickok, that includes you, too. Everybody up!"

Jimmy grunted and felt hands pull him up to his feet. As he stood he met the Kid's eyes, blue as the sea, full of forgiveness. He gazed seriously at his friend and said nothing. "I'm all right, Teaspoon, I can help you," Kid said after a moment.

"That'll be fine, Kid. Let's go."

Bart spit out a wad of tobacco and blood. "Now you wait here, mister. You ain't heard our side of the story --"

Teaspoon interrupted. "And I ain't goin' to. I ain't listenin' to none of you before I've heard the story from these gawkers we got standin' around. I ain't gonna get much of a clear story from any of you sorry fellas. Now move."

Jimmy's head spun. Where had this all started? How had it all come to this? He knew exactly how it had come to this: that lone figure, sitting so small in the saddle, slumped over, cut and bruised from head to toe, riding into their lives all those years ago with no hint of what her presence in their lives would mean. Life was a funny thing when something as small as a person could alter the course of your entire future.
Cody was walking beside him, shaking his head. "I just don't get you, Hickok."

"What's to get?" Jimmy asked in irritation.

"You got a real talent for takin' the bad and makin' it worse."

Jimmy had no reply for that. They continued the walk to the jail, a silent procession of Bart and his friends, Jimmy and his friends. When they reached the jail, Teaspoon locked them all up and sent Buck, Cody, and Kid on their way. They protested loudly, but he would have none of it. "Go on now, get," he insisted.

Buck stopped by Jimmy's cell on his way out. "You know, Jimmy, there's always a new beginning when some other beginning ends. It don't have to be like this. You can start again. Jack's willin' to try; why aren't you?"

Kid refused to leave, and after a few moments of bickering, Teaspoon relented. Then Teaspoon stood before Jimmy's cell, arms folded, sternly disapproving. "You got a lot to answer for, son. What the hell's got into you?"

Kid looked on with interest.

Jimmy hung his head. "I don't wanna talk about it, Teaspoon."

"Well, you're goin' to talk about it, dammit! Don't you know you're fixin' to lose that woman? She's at home cryin' herself to sleep every night, thinkin' she's done somethin' to make you go away."

"Why would she think that?" Jimmy was bewildered.

"Why *wouldn't* she think that, you fool?" hissed the Kid. "You've kept away from her since Maddy's funeral. You've made it pretty obvious you find a dirty, smelly old saloon and a bottle of whiskey better company than her!"

"I don't think that! She means more to me than any old bottle of liquor."

"Well, you'll forgive her if she finds that hard to believe."

"What's got into you, Jimmy?" Teaspoon asked sadly.

Jimmy rubbed his palms against his eyes. "Nothin'."

"Son, our lives start endin' the day we start bein' silent about the things that matter."

"I don't want a damn sermon!"

"Well you're gonna get one!" shouted Teaspoon. "You may think you're a big shot, son, but I can beat the hell out of you without blinkin' an eye! Now you straighten up, boy, or you're gonna lose the best thing that's ever happened to you! You're gonna send that woman runnin' straight back to England. Do you want that to happen?"

Jimmy's head flew up. "What?" he whispered. "She's goin' back to England?"

"If she thinks you don't want her no more, that's exactly what she'll do."

"Jimmy," added Kid, "don't you know what you're doin' to Jack? She's lost her little girl, now she's losin' you, too."

"But how can I...how can I...? I'll fail..." He couldn't finish. He sighed."I just don't have the courage to face her."

Teaspoon reached through the bars and grasped Jimmy's broad shoulder. "Son, courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says...I'll try again tomorrow."

"She means everything to me. I can't lose her again."

"You're about to," said Teaspoon emphatically.

Then Kid spoke. "You think this was all your fault, don't you?" At Jimmy's blank stare, he went on. "You think if you hadn't given Ben and Maddy permission to play down there none of this would ever have happened. That's what you think, isn't it, Jimmy?" He waited. Jimmy said nothing. "Well, I got news for you, Jimmy: you ain't God, as you once said to Lou. *I* gave them permission, too. Do you hear me? They stopped me on the way to the old station and said that their uncle Jimmy had said they could go, and was it okay with me, too? And I said yes. Do you see me drownin' my sorrows in whiskey? Do you, Jimmy?"

CHAPTER 1 ¤ CHAPTER 2 ¤ CHAPTER 3 ¤ CHAPTER 4 ¤ CHAPTER 5 ¤ CHAPTER 6 ¤
CHAPTER 7 ¤ CHAPTER 8 ¤ CHAPTER 9 ¤ CHAPTER 10 ¤ CHAPTER 11 ¤ CHAPTER 12 ¤ CHAPTER 13 ¤ CHAPTER 14