Bounty of the Heart

Bounty of the Heart By J.M. Snyder Dedicated to…you know who. The last of the sun’s dying rays stretched across the frozen land, tingeing the hard-packed snow a dusky rose. A few miles south of the small mining town called Aliak, the makings of a low campfire struggled to burn among the jagged foothills. A man sat hunched over the fire, his weathered face exposed to the elements beneath a fur-lined cap. He wore a black duster jacket, ragged and worn, over which was thrown the treated hide of a grizzly. When the wind blew in fitful gusts through the trees, the bear’s fur stood up along the man’s back, enhancing his already large bulk. Nearby, twenty-two-year-old Emmett Ward stood on a rugged outcropping and peered through an old set of binoculars at the quiet town nestled in the snow-covered valley below. He stood tall against the cold and the wind, a scarf pulled up over his mouth and nose to protect his face. Each gust tugged at his blond curls, tumbling them together atop his head in a disheveled manner, like a master petting a favorite dog. A patchwork of hides covered Emmett’s thin frame, shielding the rest of him from the weather. Weariness ached in his bones, and he grimaced at the unsavory thought of spending another night sleeping on the hard ground by the evening’s meager fire. Alaska was a harsh land, he was discovering. One he didn’t care for much. What ground wasn’t covered in snow was frozen solid—the cold ate into a man’s bones, stiffening his muscles and making sleep impossible. Any fire Jack managed to light would barely give enough warmth to cook by, let alone stave off the chill. If the fire even took. In this wind? Emmett doubted it. As he listened to his partner curse the low flames, Emmett raised the binoculars again and adjusted the sight to hone in on the warm glow of a tavern window down in Aliak. What he wouldn’t give to sit by that fire. Keeping his voice light, he called out, “You get it going yet?” “Shut the f**k up,” Jack growled. Emmett laughed at the malice curled in his partner’s voice. Jack Robison might be one of the most feared bounty hunters in all the western territory, but Emmett had been with him long enough to be able to read his moods. Jack’s bad attitude stemmed from their arduous journey—they’d spent most of the day trekking through desolate wilderness over rocky ground, heads bent against wind that cut through their clothing like a sharp boning knife. The morning’s light had seen them disembark from a whaling ship that had agreed to take them north from Juneau; a week ago, they’d been at a logging camp in Oregon, trying not to kill each other after getting hampered down by a sudden blizzard. Jack hated the cold. Traveling so far north this late in the year pissed him off. Emmett also suspected their reason for being in the frigid clime in the first place bothered Jack. In two days dog sleds would race through Aliak, and the town’s narrow streets would be lined with spectators out to watch the mushers and their mutts. Local bookies took bets on the race—small change gambling, nothing that would normally interest the two men out on the ridge. But word had it the race was rigged this year, and the odds favored Lin Ji, a Korean gangster gouging a name for himself in Seward’s Folly. Where Lin Ji went, his cutthroat mother Kim couldn’t be far behind. Last week, Emmett had squeezed next to Jack in a wooden booth of a dodgy bar down in Oregon while across from them sat a nameless messenger, face hidden in a dark cowl. On the table between them had been placed a pouch straining with an obscene number of gold coins. Real gold; Jack bit into one to ensure its worth. The courier had given them instructions in writing, a nondescript block print on a page torn from the back of a Bible. No words had been spoken. No niceties exchanged. The note read simply, Lin Ji, and provided coordinates to Aliak and a date two days hence. The money was theirs upon return. Though Jack hadn’t said it, Emmett knew this bounty worried him. He could see it in the nervous way Jack chewed the inside of his lip as he stacked the wood for the fire, in the scowl furrowing his brow, in the anger blazing in his one icy eye. And if it worried Jack, Emmett thought maybe it should worry the hell out of him, too. Lowering the binoculars a second time, Emmett ran a hand through his curls to corral them, but the moment he opened his fingers, the wind played with his hair again. He pulled up the hood of his coat, its fur lining protecting him from the worst of the gusts, and turned from Aliak. They’d enter the town tomorrow, sometime after dawn, when they could blend in with others traveling to enjoy the race. If they approached tonight, their appearance so late in the day would surely be noticed, and even in the wilds of Alaska, a countenance like Jack’s would stand out. Returning to their fire, Emmett watched Jack hunch over the pit he’d dug earlier as he tried to start a flame. Jack’s movements were sharp and fast, angry, his lips drawn down in an ugly scowl that matched the white jagged scar low across his right cheek. Emmett approached from his right, unable to see his good eye from this angle. Jack wore a black patch over the right one, which Emmett caught sight of when the sound of his steps caused Jack to turn. One hand flew into Jack’s coat, where Emmett knew he kept his gun. Seeing it was only him, Jack swore. “Jesus, boy. Sit the f**k down or I’ll shoot you down.” Emmett tossed the binoculars onto his bedroll and skirted around their fire to sit on Jack’s left. “Don’t take it out on me.” Despite the fifteen year gap in their ages, Emmett didn’t scare easily. He’d been with Jack for too long. “Who took this damn job in the first place? You.” Jack glared at a small lick of flame struggling to curl into their tinder. “Shut it.” Wrapping his coat tighter around his thin frame, Emmett stared into the firewood and snuck glances at his partner. Not for the first time, he wondered what those thick arms might feel like around his narrow shoulders. He’d felt their strength before, when Jack had leaned through the open door of a railway car and scooped Emmett up beside him, or when a bounty opened fire and Jack pushed Emmett behind him, out of harm’s way. He knew enough of Jack’s brusque touch to want more, and most nights lay awake wishing for the courage to close the distance separating his bedroll from Jack’s. The quiet between them stretched out like the night sky above. Emmett dared to scoot toward Jack, only partly to avoid the wind. He’d take any little thing he could get of his partner, even if it were just being near the older man for a moment or two. If Jack could trust Emmett with his life—and he did, Emmett knew—why couldn’t he entrust Emmett with his heart? “Do you have to get right up on me?” Jack groused, elbowing Emmett for more room. Emmett just moved closer still, until his hip bumped Jack’s. “It’s cold.” With a quick bark of laughter, Jack muttered, “No s**t. Get used to it.” Silence descended again. Jack stared at their fire, which had finally taken hold among the tinder and now lapped at the logs. Emmett watched Jack’s face—the slight frown on his narrow lips, the stubble of hair on his unshaven cheek that looked like dirt in the firelight, the pale blue eye that moved constantly in its socket. Jack kept a steady watch, glancing first at the flames, then at the hills beyond its meager light, then at Emmett, the fire, Emmett again. When he saw Emmett staring, he huffed and shook his head. “What?” His elbow rested against Emmett’s belly, the touch hardly felt through the layers of clothing they wore. But Emmett welcomed the weight, and the press of Jack’s arm draped over his leg. Leaning against Jack a little, Emmett lowered his voice so his partner would have to strain to hear it. “You’re thinking about Kim Ji, aren’t you?” “Lin’s our target.” Jack pushed Emmett out of his personal space, voice hard and cold. “Get the f**k off me.” Emmett had only wanted to get Jack talking. When they sat together, he could feel Jack’s gruff voice reverberate through his own body—it teased his libido, and made him want something more. Sometimes, when they were alone on a hunt or holed up together waiting for their next job, Emmett would catch glimpses of the man beneath Jack’s tough exterior. When it was just the two of them, Jack might let him get close—physically, yes, the way they sat now, but emotionally as well. Sometimes, talk between them grew soft and intimate. No harsh words, no angry tones. Just two men, alone together. At those times, Emmett felt he stood on the cusp of friendship, and the right word, the right touch, would send them tumbling into one bedroll, lovers at last. But he had to mention Kim Ji. If there were one person in all the world who could terrify Jack, it was the demure but deadly crime boss known as the Dragon Lady. Undeterred, Emmett resumed his position, his knee pressing alongside Jack’s. “What do you know of him?” he asked, meaning Lin. Jack grunted, his standard response. “Much as you.” No, Emmett doubted that. Lin Ji was the reason the two men now traveled together. It’d been years ago, Emmett just a teenager and Jack already building the ruthless reputation that still preceded him. A hit had been out on Lin Ji at the time—come to think of it, a hit was always out on the guy. Jack had tried to cash in on it but something had gone wrong, something he still refused to talk about, even to Emmett, and he’d wound up in Oregon, beaten and bound in one of Kim Ji’s warehouses off the wharf. Emmett shut his eyes against the painful memory of Jack’s once rugged face bloodied from abuse. The scar on his cheek stemmed from that time, as did the patch covering the empty socket where his eye had been. With a sigh, Emmett rested his chin against Jack’s arm and murmured, “We’ll get him this time.” Another grunt, noncommittal. Jack shrugged but Emmett didn’t allow himself to be moved. “Get off me,” Jack said, his voice low. There was no malice in it, nothing mean, and Emmett chose to ignore him.