Chapter Text
Jeff Morgan was an early riser. With the slivers of dawn at the horizon he left his tent to make sure there was enough coffee brewing at the camp fire. They hadn't been in this new camp spot too long yet, but after the fiasko at Burlington they had to leave their old spot at Devil's Canyon for good. The heat was just getting too much and he was glad that Jensen and Jared had found this secluded spot at Black Oak Falls. It was perfect. Only accessible from one side, enough lush grass for the horses, and fresh water in walking distance.
Morgan straightened his black vest and reached back inside his tent to get his coat, for this morning air by the waterside was quite chilly. The horses snorted happily at the other side of camp and Jeff trudged on to reach the coffee he needed so much. He found he wasn't the first person up. Besides the guards they always had out, there was Jared already sitting on a log made into a stool by the fire, sipping on the hot, bitter brew.
"Morning sunshine," Jeff greeted and rubbed his fingers together against the chill before taking his tin cup and pouring himself some of Jim's famous blend.
"Hey Jeff," Jared replied, sounding tired. Jeff raised an eyebrow.
"What's wrong with you, my boy?" He asked before taking his first sip and fighting hard to suppress a moan as the death raiser brew ran down his throat trying to wake the last of Jeff's spirits.
Jared shrugged. "Couldn't sleep."
"Still sore from where the bullet winged you last week?" Jeff frowned. When all went to hell in Burlington and they had to shoot their way out of the little town, Jared had taken a slug to the side. Made a long furrow along his ribcage but luckily had just glanced off the bones.
"Maybe."
The boy was as tight-lipped as ever. But before Jeff could get more into the topic, the soft clapping of hooves and Kendrick's "Who goes there?" redirected Jeff's attention to the newcomer.
"It's Jensen," the horseman called back in return and sure enough Jensen's pitch black Arabian slowly peeled out from the faint light of dawn. The young man hitched his horse and walked to the back of it to retrieve a rather sizeable buck.
"Mr. Sheppard up yet?" Jensen called in way of greeting and carried the carcass across his shoulders to drop it on the butcher table of Mark Sheppard. Then he returned to his horse to fetch two decent sized turkeys to go with the buck.
"You been hunting at night, boy?" Jeff asked as Jensen returned to his black beast with a bucket of water and some hay.
"Hunting at dawn, Jeff," Jensen replied and joined the coffee drinkers. "Morning Jared."
Jared blinked and seemed to have to force himself to look up. "Ackles," he then nodded reluctantly. Jensen took it in stride. He was used to the younger man's curtness. He accepted a mug of steaming coffee from Jeff and slurped the first few sips.
"And what kept you from sleeping then?" Jeff inquired.
"Oh I slept," Jensen muttered between sips. Sometimes Jeff could be as overprotective as the mother Jensen hardly remembered. It's what at times drove him to do just the kind of things like an early morning supply hunt. "I needed time to think."
"Time to think?" Jeff parroted. "About wh..."
The last word ran dry as the pounding of a horse galloping at speed drew the attention not only of the guards but also of the three coffee drinkers.
"They got Misha," an out of breath Matt shouted as he jumped off his Appaloosa before it had come to a stop. Matt ran up to the three, looking frantic. "I don't know where they were coming from but when we crossed the bridge at Spider Gorge they sprouted like mushrooms from the ground."
"Wait, what? Who has Misha?" Jeff was confused and agitated the same time. Misha Collins was a hot head and didn't care much for listening to orders. But he often provided the gang with info on stage coaches that were worth stopping or similar big loot jobs. On the downside he would sell out his own mother if it saved him.
"The law, Jeff. They're bringing him to jail in Blackberry," Matt was still trying to catch his breath. "I just managed to get away and lose the two uniforms they sent after me."
Immediately Jensen scanned the brush on the outskirts of their camp.
"You haven't been followed?"
"No, Jensen. I lost them way back at Crescent Lake," Matt asserted.
"We cannot afford to have him sell our location, Jeff," Jensen addressed the older man. "We only just got to this place. And it's a perfect hideout."
Jeff nodded and turned to look at Jared. Then he locked eyes with Jensen. "Right. I want you and Jared to ride out to Blackberry. Scope out the place. If you can, get Misha's sorry ass out of jail. But Jensen, make sure you find out if he sang. Because if he did..." Jeff trailed off.
"If he did we have to move before Blackberry sends a damned possé on our asses," Jensen nodded. "But I'll be damned if I'm not tired of saving his ass. Wish we could just let him rot there. Guy gets us into nothing but trouble, Jeff."
"He's part of the family, Jensen. He'd get you out if things were reversed." Jensen sighed.
"I can get him alone," Jared piped up. "Don't need no help to get one man outta jail." He shot Jensen a dark look.
"Ah, no, Jared," Jeff denied. "It's a town you gotta get Misha from. Not a Pellegrino campsite by the river. You two need to play together to get him out. But for the love of God, I don't know what's going on with you two, but stow it. Maybe I should have Matt..."
"We will get the job done just fine, won't we, Jared?" Jensen cut in.
"Sure, Ackles," Jared shrugged and walked over to where his silver dapple pinto was hitched. Jeff and Jensen stared at his back for a moment.
"Whatever it is, Jensen, sort it out," Jeff said under his breath.
"Hell, I don't know who pissed in his oats, Jeff. But I'll try my best." Jensen sighed and finished his coffee before heading to his own horse. He patted his neck and swung into the saddle. "Sorry, boy, but we gotta ride again."
With that he trotted after Jared who was already heading towards the small entrance path half conceiled by a waterfall. If you didn't know there was a passage from the outside you would never find it. Jensen had only found it when he chased down a buck he had wounded and it seemingly disappeared into thin air.
Once he was through the fall, Jensen spurred his horse into a gallop to catch up to Jared. Quietly they made their way next to each other, only stopping to have a small meal around noon.
"Right, Jared? I figure we'll be in Blackberry in a hoofbeat now. Only been there once and it's not a big place. Not small neither. We pitch up at the sheriff's in two asking bout Misha they'll be suspicious," Jensen stated calmly as they mounted their horses again. Jared nodded and looked at the other man expectantly. "So, I will head in alone and you could snoop around the place, see if you can find where Misha's at, if there's a window or so."
Jared snorted, clearly not happy, shaking his head. "Of course you're gonna talk to the sheriff. Let me do the stooge's work," he muttered.
"Fine. You wanna go in and do the talking? Be my guest." Jensen was slowly losing his patience but knew they'd have to work together to pull this off. Any dispute between them could risk all their lives.
"Nah, it's alright. You already claimed the talk. I'll do the snooping," Jared replied.
"Just don't get ahead of yourself. We gotta stick together."
"Yeah, Ackles. I got it."
"Good. Let's go then." Jensen kicked his horse into motion and off they rode. About a quarter hour later they hitched their horses outside the sheriff's office.
"Eyes open, Jared. And don't draw any unneccesary attention to you."
Jared rolled his eyes and watched as Jensen made his way up the wooden steps and through the door to the office. Then he turned and wandered about, eyes alert, trying to find whatever he could that would help them with their task.
"Howdy, Sheriff," Jensen greeted. A man in his early fifties with greying hair and a mustache looked up. He was sitting at the desk, his hat laying next to him, and by the looks of it he had been talking to his subordinate who was standing at the opposite end of the room, leaning against the wall.
One glance around told Jensen that the cells were not on the same level as the office, but there were stairs leading downwards on the far side. So the holding cells could be down there or in a different building.
"Hello, Sir. How can we help you?" The Sheriff replied, nodding his head at him.
"I was just passing through and heard you got yourself a prisoner who's likely part of a gang. Now I'm working together with the law over in Cedar Peak and they're looking for any Pellegrino boy they can get their hands on. Wondering if I could take a look to see if your guy's one of 'em." Jensen rattled down his story like it was everyday's business and he was actually rather bored with it.
"Cedar Peak?" The Sheriff asked. Jensen nodded. "Tucker Milton still the law there?"
Jensen shrugged. "Last time I checked he was. Of course that was a few days ago and you never know what happens."
"Too true," the Sheriff nodded. "Miles McKinney. Good to meet you, Mr...?"
"Jay Holloway," Jensen replied, shaking McKinney's hand.
"So you're looking for the Pellegrinos, are you?" McKinney asked.
"Sure do, Sheriff. They robbed a few homesteads around Cedar Peak, killed good people. Sheriff Milton wants them gone."
"And I don't blame him," McKinney agreed. "Well, you can take a look at our prisoner, but I'm pretty sure he follows Jeff Morgan, not Mark Pellegrino."
Jensen blinked his eyes. "That so? What makes you think that?"
"Well he was cursing at this other prisoner we got and called him a damned Pellegrino. Everyone know that amongst gangs, the Morgans hate them Pellegrinos the worst."
"Ah, understand," Jensen nodded. "So there's at least one Pellegrino I could take off your hands, Sheriff."
"Theoretically, yes. But them two? We're gonna hang 'em both. You're welcome to..."
Whatever Sheriff McKinney still wanted to say was aborted by a tremendous noise that shook the walls of the whole building.
TBC