Give My All to Jessie (Third in Outlaw Series)

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Jeremiah took a swig of whiskey from his canteen as he rode into the tiny Texas town. He weaved in the saddle as he fumbled to shove the cork back into the canteen and then stick the canteen into the waistband of his trousers.

Jeremiah nearly toppled backward off his horse when he swiped the sweat from his dirty brow and his eyes widened as he clutched at the reins for support. Jeremiah glanced around him as he scratched at his dirt crusted shirt. The streets were pretty damn empty and it was pretty damn hot.

His belch filled the silence and he tipped his hat to a proper little lady walking down the road. Her face filled with disgust as she covered her mouth with her glove covered hand and hastened her pace away from him.

"Well don't you think you're somethin' special, ma'am," he grumbled as he tipped his hat again and pitched sideways. Jeremiah was laughing as he righted himself.

He was drunk. More drunk than he normally allowed himself to get. Honestly, he'd been drunk more than he'd been sober since he'd let his nephew get shot and arrested. And since that same nephew had thoroughly ripped him a new backside.

Jeremiah had never bothered with worrying what anyone thought about him but, dammit, Langley's words had cut him to the core. Jeremiah might not be a Marston but what was so wrong with that? He wasn't just a whore hopping drunkard. He should have knocked that boy's teeth a full foot down his throat for saying so.

Oh well. Jeremiah was here now and the brat would have to eat his words. Jeremiah rode to the jail and hopped off his horse. Normally he avoided places like this so he wasn't real comfortable climbing the wooden steps to enter one. But he'd given his word to Langley that he'd be there to pick him up and he meant to keep it.

Jeremiah stumbled to the window of the cell Langley had been in before but instead of seeing his nephew, he saw an old man snoring in the chair. Jeremiah frowned. Where was that boy?

A knock on the door found it answered by an old lawman who glared at him with annoyance. "Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for someone," Jeremiah replied, trying real hard not to slur his words too badly.

"Do I know you?" the sheriff asked suspiciously.

Jeremiah flashed a sloppy grin and gripped the doorframe to steady himself. "Nope. I don't believe I've ever been here. I got a letter from my nephew saying he was in jail and would be getting out the twenty-eighth."

"Langley Jacobs?"

Jeremiah nodded and covered his hand quickly when he hiccupped. "Yep. That's the one."

"He was a good kid," the sheriff stated. "He just got caught up with the wrong people. He was released right on schedule."

"You let prisoners out this early in the morning?" Jeremiah asked as he pulled out his pocket watch and squinted to see it was indeed only nine in the morning.

When he turned his gaze back to the lawman, the man was frowning. "Usually I let them out around lunch time. And that's about the time it was when I let Langley out—one week ago."

"But he told me it would be July Twenty-Eighth!" Jeremiah exclaimed, taking a step forward.

The lawman gagged a bit before covering his mouth and nose and taking a step back. Jeremiah knew he smelled—maybe he should have taken a bath. It probably wasn't a good idea to go waltzing into a jailhouse smelling like a whiskey vat with a month's worth of sweat and dirt clinging to you.