The Long Road Home #5

"We had to see if it was true." That was what the Green Lanterns told Hal when he asked why they'd disobeyed the Guardians' wishes. Apparently, the signal he'd sent out through the relay network had been picked up by a few other Lanterns as it made its way to Oa, but the quarantine prevented any of them from answering directly, and they could only listen as Hal argued his case. "After they cut off your transmission, those of us that heard it decided that it should not be dismissed," the more human-looking Lantern said -- while his skin color was rather ashen and his eyes a little too blue for close-up inspection, at a glance no resident of Earth would even notice the difference. "We three were the closest in proximity to your planet, so we were chosen to come investigate."

"Not that I don't appreciate you coming," Hal said, "but aren't you afraid of reprisals when you get back to Oa?"

The second Lantern, a tall fellow with a broad face and two sets of pitch-black eyes, flashed a toothy grin at him. "From what I've heard about the great Hal Jordan of Earth, you never seemed to concern yourself with such thoughts when it came down to obeying the Guardians or doing what was right."

"Later is for consequences," the third, insect-like Lantern said, "now is for action."

Hal agreed, and the sooner the better. The only question was what sort of action to take. They had relocated to inside the warehouse, and after a getting-acquainted period with the residents of Maple (which involved a lot of the kids being fascinated by the "big bug"), the Lanterns, Hex, Stiletta, and a handful of the residents got down to business. "First priority is getting that engine out of the hands of the Slabberz," Hal said. "Hopefully, they haven't tried dismantling or scrapping it yet. Once we secure it, we have to see if it still works, and then try to figure out if there's any way we can direct the energy to suit our needs."

"So we're plannin' a raid, thet it?" Jonah pulled out one of his guns and cocked the hammer. "Hell, Ah'm game."

"No...no guns." Hal answered. "We do this the Corps way: no killing, not unless it becomes absolutely necessary."

"Ah'd love tuh see how yuh plan on corralin' all them skunks, then."

The tall Lantern used his ring to grab Hex by his gun hand, pick him up off his feet, then pull him over to where he stood. A little extra force made the bounty hunter drop his Magnum into the Green Lantern's outstretched hand. "Is that enough of a demonstration?" he asked, lifting Hex up until he was looking straight into the alien's four eyes.

"Reckon it'll do. Mind puttin' me down, big fella? We's on the same side, last Ah checked." With a laugh, the alien set Jonah back on his feet and handed him the gun. "Ah still think some backup couldn't hurt," he grumbled.

"It looks to me like you don't even need help," Stiletta said.

Hal shook his head. "Even with the rings, we're not invincible. The more people we have with us, the easier this will be.”

“But if you don’t want us to use guns, how are we supposed to help you out?” Red asked, Mookie by his side. “Are you guys passing out those rings to everybody?”

“Not quite.” Hal had taken a moment earlier to charge up his own ring, and used it now to construct what appeared to be an ordinary rifle, save for the fact that it was fashioned out of green light. “These won’t fire normal ammunition, but they will pack enough punch to stun anybody hit by it,” he explained, holding it by the stock, “and so long as our rings are powered up, they’ll never run out of ammo.”

“Let me see thet,” Jonah said, and took it from Hal. He was surprised at the heft the thing had, even though he could see through it like it was made of glass. When he worked the loading mechanism, it made a solid kla-chack just as a real, metal rifle would. “Ah’ll be damned. Kin yuh make anything with thet there ring?”

“Just about.” Hal turned to the others. “Mookie suggested earlier that the scavs might be taking the night off because of the holiday, and if that’s true, then we can catch them off guard. We need to do this hard and fast. Don’t give them a chance to retreat or figure out why we’re really there. And remember, the only purpose of this is to get that engine back. This isn’t a smash-and-grab or vengeance mission. Anybody that wants to come along to take care of a grudge against the Slabberz can stay right here. Those that really want to help can meet us at the motor pool in a half-hour.”

The group dispersed after that, some deciding to opt out, others sticking around to talk more with the newly-arrived Lanterns. Hal went over to confer with his fellow Corpsmen, leaving Jonah to examine his new weapon some more. As he did so, Stiletta came up to him, standing quietly beside him until he noticed her. “This is a fine trick, ain’t it?” he said, holding up the rifle. “Just think ‘bout something an’ there it is.” Then he saw the look in her eyes. “Whut’s the matter?”

“You know.”

He was about to say that he didn’t, then realized what she meant. “This don’t change nothin’, sugar. Ah ain’t packin’ muh bags, Ah swear.” Jonah touched her face, but she pulled away.

“I...I need to do some things before we leave,“ she said. “I’ll see you in half an hour.” Stiletta then walked away from him and down the hall leading to the sleeping quarters. Jonah watched her go, feeling like he’d been punched in the gut.

While he hadn’t been standing near enough to overhear the conversation, Hal did see Stiletta’s departure, and left his own group to check on the gunfighter. “Everything all right, Hex?” he asked.

“Right as rain,” he answered, not meaning a word of it, then turned and began to walk towards the motor pool. “Ah'd better get muh ride warmed up.”

Hal put a hand on Jonah’s arm to stop him, saying, “Forget it. I‘ve got something better for you.”

“Whut did yuh have in mind?”

“Just something that you told me the future was a mite short on,” he said with a smile.

When the dust settled, over 150 cutthroat scavs had been defeated by a band of only a dozen people. There were a few bullet wounds to patch and some other minor injuries, but otherwise neither side suffered any loss of life. It was the most bloodless battle Jonah had ever participated in. Kinda takes the fun out of it, he thought as he helped with moving the captured gang members to one of the intact buildings near the parking garage. Many of them had been stunned into submission, but some of them were still up and kicking...and punching and biting and whatever else they could think of doing in an effort to get free. Those that tried to pull any of that nonsense with Jonah soon got knocked out the hard way. Personally, he didn't understand why they were making such a fuss to keep the little maniacs alive, but Hal made it very clear that none of them were to be permanently harmed. It's a lovely sentiment, Hex said to himself, but damned impractical.

Once all the gangbangers had been herded inside their temporary prison, Jonah went inside the garage itself, joining Hal and his fellow Green Lanterns as they busied themselves with repairing the Casimir engine. They’d been at it for hours, going over the machine inch by inch to determine what caused the original malfunction that brought Hal to this reality, and to see if it could be safely duplicated. Stiletta had been helping out where she could, and she stepped away from the others when Jonah came up the ramp. "How's things going out there, cowboy?" she asked him, hugging her thick coat to her body.

"As well as kin be expected," he said, "them skunks ain't too happy 'bout us kickin' 'em out of their home." The two of them walked over to the machine. "So, is this thing gonna do the trick or no?"

The insect-like Lantern poked its head out from behind the machine. "Very soon. Device is almost disengaged."

"Ah don't follow...yuh mean yo're turnin' it off?"

"Just part of it," Hal explained. He reattached some of the outer housing, then stood up to face them. "From what we can tell, Dr. Steveling and his team got a little overzealous: apparently, a true Casimir engine is only good for one use. Once it's extracted energy from the quantum vacuum and expelled it, the engine burns out. They thought they'd found a way around that problem, but the truth is, they had inadvertently wired the thing so it would never stop extracting energy. It just keeps cycling over and over." He twirled a finger in the air to emphasize. "Luckily, when it let out that burst that knocked me here, it burned out the mechanism that allowed it to draw power. This thing's been idling for the last four days, just waiting for somebody to give the order to expel its full load."

"Ah ain't even gonna pretend thet Ah understood a bit of thet," Jonah said.

"He means it still works," Stiletta told him, "and as soon as they finish disconnecting the energy-cycling thing from the rest of the engine, it'll be safe to turn it back on."

"Once we get rid of that piece of equipment, we should be able to control the engine with our rings and not have to worry about it sucking them dry like before," Hal continued. "All we need to do then is manipulate the quantum-energy field to make another hole in space-time, and we can slip right through."

"'We'?" Hex said. "Don't yuh mean..."

"No, you heard me right. This engine should have enough energy stored in it to open two portals, one for each of us." He put a hand on the gunfighter's shoulder, saying, "I know you told me that you didn't want me to get your hopes up, but I'm not playing around here: you're finally going home."

Jonah stared at him for a moment, then at the engine. "Ah'm...Ah cain't," he said eventually. "W-whut Ah mean is..."

Stiletta took Jonah by the hand and said, "Can I talk with you for a minute? Just the two of us?" She pulled him away from the Lanterns and led him over to the far end of the garage. The tarps had been torn down in that section, and a gray, pre-dawn light was pouring in from outside.

As soon as they were alone, the first thing Hex said was, "Ah'm not goin' back."

She put a hand over his mouth. "Don't talk, just listen. I know that you love me, and you're willing to just walk away from this chance at going home to stay with me, but...it's not right. You don't belong here, and no amount of love will change that. I had to think about that long and hard before I realized it was the truth. I wish it wasn't true, because...I'll admit it, the thought of letting go of you hurts, but it's the right thing. We may love each other, but in the long run, that still won't make this place your home."

"Don't Ah get any say in this? Ah don't want tuh leave yuh, sugar. It don't matter tuh me where Ah am, just so long as yo're there, too."

"You say that now, but what about five years from now? Or twenty-five? This isn't some bus ticket you can cash in whenever you like. If you don't go now, then that's it, no second chances. Can you live with that for the rest of your life?" Jonah turned his head away, but Stiletta wouldn't let him ignore what she was saying. She placed a hand under his chin and made him look at her. "When you love somebody, even a little, sometimes the best way to show them that is to give them up. I want you to be happy, Jonah. Not just now, but forever. And I know that if you stay here, you won't be."

He closed his eyes for a moment, taking stock of what she'd said. He'd had similar thoughts, but he'd refused to acknowledge them. Just once, Ah'd like tuh get whut Ah want, he thought. Maybe someday...but not today. When he looked at her again, tears had begun to form in his eyes, but he held them back. "If'n yuh think it's the right thing, Ah'll go...but Ah think it'll be a long time afore Ah'm happy 'bout it." He reached down and patted the Magnums still sitting in his gun holsters. "Reckon Ah'll have tuh get one of them Lanterns tuh fetch muh Dragoons. Cain't go back with these things."

"I know," she answered, and opened up her coat. From one of the large inner pockets, she pulled out Jonah's old guns, carefully wrapped in one of his shirts. "I stopped by your room before we left Maple," she explained, handing them over, "just in case."

He turned the guns over in his hands. They had been loaded with the bullets he'd bought the other day: three in one gun, two in the other. He hadn't even thought about bringing the Dragoons along, he'd had no intentions of leaving...but Stiletta knew, she knew before he did. "Maybe...maybe yuh could come with me," Hex said to her. "Yuh ain't got nothin' tyin' yuh down here, so why don't yuh..."

"And what then? I don't belong back there any more than you belong here. Can you imagine me running around in a hoop skirt...and I'd love to see you try and explain me to your girlfriend Emily."

"Her name's Emmy," he said quietly, "an' she ain't muh girlfriend no more. She done left me a couple of months afore Ah got stuck here."

"I'm sorry. The way you've talked about her..."

"Ah still love her, if'n thet's whut yo're thinkin'. Ah've loved a lot of women over the years, fer lots of dif'rent reasons...an' Ah've never stopped lovin' any of them, deep down." He brushed a hand against her cheek. "Same goes fer yuh, Stiletta: Ah may never see yuh again, but Ah'll love yuh 'til the day Ah die."

Tears rolling down fer face, she threw her arms around his neck. "God damn you, Jonah," she sobbed.

He held onto her tightly, wishing that he never had to let go. "Ah think He already has, sugar."

"Oh my God! What's happening to him?"

Emmylou Hartley stared in horror at the spot where Jonah Hex had stood only moments before. This isn't real, she thought, this is a nightmare, it has to be. She'd been telling herself that off and on for two months now, ever since Brett had kidnapped her off that stagecoach to St. Louis. When she bought passage, Emmy thought she was moving away from trouble: she'd decided to leave Jonah before he broke her heart yet again, as he always seemed to do. If she'd known what lay ahead of her, however, she would have stood through the heartache to spare herself the torture she'd endured after Brett got hold of her. Beaten, starved, locked in a closet for days on end, all in an effort to break her spirit and make her a part of his gang. Emmy wondered if the two other women in his "family" had gone through the same trials before giving in to his whims.

But Emmy was resolved to never give in, not even after she accidentally shot Jonah when he tried to rescue her during that robbery in the assayer's office. She held on, and when she got the chance, she ran. Brett wasn't about to let her go, though, and chased her down as she made her way back to the town of Red Dog, back to Jonah, back to the man that had saved her countless times before. And now...and now he was gone, whisked away in a blaze of red light. The afterimage still hung in front of her eyes, the shock on Jonah's face before he disappeared matching her own. The bar's patrons gaped as well, and who could blame them? This was 1875: things like this just didn't happen, not in Red Dog, not anywhere.

"Looks like that johnny-reb decided you're not worth the trouble," Brett said. The incident had shaken him as well, but it wasn't enough to take his mind off why he'd come in there. He leveled his revolver at Emmy. "Don't worry, I'll save a couple shots for him in case he changes his mind."

Emmylou backed up against the bar, her mind still reeling. There's no one left, she thought, nowhere else to go. She braced her hands on the bartop, her fingers brushing against the whiskey bottle Jonah had been pouring from when she'd run in. Barely aware that she was doing it, she grabbed the bottle by the neck and swung it as hard as she could at Brett's face. The glass shattered on impact, tearing up his cheek and shards lodging in his eye. He fired blindly, missing Emmy by inches. She froze for a moment, watching him as he fell to his knees yelling in pain, then she bolted for the door. Once out in the street, she ran as fast as she could, not knowing where to, just so long as it was far from Brett. People blundered into her as they tried to figure out what all the commotion in the saloon was about. "Get out of the way!" she screamed, pushing them aside.

"Come back here, you tramp!" Brett had recovered himself enough to come after her. He emerged from the bar, gun still in hand, blood running down the side of his face. The sight of him was enough to make folks move out his way. He fired a shot at Emmy, missing again, but it was enough of a scare to make her stumble, slowing her down just long enough for him to catch up and tackle her. They wrestled in the street, Emmy doing her best to free herself from his grip, but in the end, Brett was just too strong for her. Flat on her back, choking on dust, she looked up at him as he straddled her. "You just had to make it hard, didn't you?" he growled. His injured eye was squeezed shut, and flecks of blood hung from his moustache. "Figured you'd learn to behave after a while, but it looks like I was wrong. Now I ain't got any other choice." He then shoved the barrel of the gun under her chin, saying, "End of the line, pigtails."

From behind them, a voice called out, "Get the Hell away from her, yuh yellowbellied skunk!" Brett turned his head to look at the man speaking, perhaps even shoot him for daring to interrupt, but when he saw who it was, his blood ran cold.

In the middle of the street, not far from the entrance to the Red Dog Saloon, stood Jonah Hex. The Confederate uniform was gone, replaced by a black shirt and dark blue trousers that clung to his tall frame, and black boots with oddly-thick soles. A breeze stirred Jonah's shoulder-length red hair as he glared at Brett, death in his eyes and his hands dangling inches away from the Dragoons strapped to his hips. "Get up," the bounty hunter told him. "Ah've been waitin' a damn long time tuh finish this."

Brett didn't move. He had the advantage, surely Hex saw that. All he had to do was twitch his finger and the girl would die. But the look in Jonah's eyes, the snarl on his lips...it was like staring down a bloodthirsty wolf. And if Brett didn't take him down first, the man would jump on him and tear out his throat. He quickly stood up and swung the gun around, cocking the hammer as he took aim at Hex.

Those who saw the shootout in Red Dog that day would swear they never saw Jonah Hex draw his guns. One moment the Dragoons were resting in their holsters, the next they were in Jonah's hands, the report deafening as he fired five times at Brett without hesitation. One bullet knocked the pistol from the man's hand before he could even pull the trigger, three more drilled straight through his chest, and the last ended up squarely between the outlaw's eyes. He staggered forward a few steps, then collapsed, dead before his body even hit the ground.

"Jonah..." Emmy cried weakly as he ran over to her, falling to his knees beside her and scooping her up into his arms. She pressed her face to his chest and sobbed, barely taking note of how strange the clothes he was wearing felt, all slick and unnatural. She just wanted to reassure herself that he was there, that this wasn't a dream. Jonah was crying as well, shedding the tears that he'd refused to show Stiletta as he kissed the top of Emmylou's head, her cheeks, her lips.

"Oh God...Ah missed yuh so much," he said, his voice quivering. "Ah kept hopin' an' prayin' Ah'd get back, but it's been so long...seems like years..."

She looked up at his face, then touched his hair -- it was longer now than it had been minutes before in the saloon. "What happened, Jonah?" she asked. "You disappeared, I saw it...where did you go?"

Jonah realized then that people had begun to gather around, not too closely. They were staring at him, at the clothes he was wearing. He could already hear folks whispering to each other, speculating as to what had just occurred in their small town, and waiting to hear an explanation from him. Emmy was waiting too, gazing at him with trusting eyes.

Slowly, he felt the lie forming on his lips. It was a simple lie, but one he'd repeat to everyone that asked him about the incident for the rest of his life. Gently pushing a stray lock of blonde hair from Emmy's face, he said to her, "Ah don't rightly know whut happened, sugar. All's Ah kin remember is seein' this real bright red light, then a bright green one right after. Everything in between...reckon it's just a big blur."

The first chance he had, he burned the clothes. Jonah wanted no reminders of his life in 2050, no evidence that he'd ever been anywhere else but his own time. The only things he kept were the Dragoons, of course, and the gunbelts he'd taken off his own corpse -- while the leather was cracking from centuries of neglect, they seemed to be in serviceable condition for now. He found a man, a former son of the Confederacy like himself, that was willing to part with an old uniform for a reasonable sum. It wasn't the same as his original cavalry coat, but it was close enough.

He soon discovered that it would take more than a change of clothes to restore any sense of normalcy to his life. After Emmylou had been cleared of the criminal charges against her, and Jonah had rounded up the rest of Brett's gang (collecting a tidy fee for his services in the process), the two of them left Red Dog behind. The spark of love was still there between them, but that wasn't why they stayed together: they clung to each other emotionally like lost children, both desiring the comfort that familiarity brought, neither wanting to be alone with the memories of their personal traumas. Sometimes Emmy would talk about what Brett had done to her, about the fear that still dwelled in her heart, and Jonah would hold her and kiss her and do his best to show that she was safe now, the man was dead and would never touch her again. It helped her over time, but for Jonah, there was no consolation. He refused to speak about what occurred during his brief disappearance, even when he woke up in the middle of the night, crying out in confusion because he couldn't remember where he was. There were moments when he'd just stop what he was doing and stare around him, sure that what he saw was a dream or hallucination, that he was still trapped in a world where it wasn't even safe to walk out in the rain or drink from an open stream.

After a few months, his odd behavior began to put a strain on their relationship. One night as they lay in bed, Emmy pressed him about what really happened that day in Red Dog. "I hear you talking in your sleep," she said, "but it doesn't make any sense. There's something you're holding back from me, and I want to know why."

Stubborn as always, he replied, "Ah told yuh, Ah don't remember nothin'."

Emmy wasn't about to let him off that easy. "Jonah...who's Stiletta?"

He tried his best to not let the shock show on his face. Hex knew that he had a tendency to mumble things when he was having bad dreams, but he didn't know he'd let that much slip out. "Ah cain't tell yuh," he said, the words sounding weak and pathetic as he spoke them.

"If you loved me, you'd tell me."

"Ah do love yuh, darlin'...an' thet's why Ah won't." He left her in the morning, checking out of the hotel they'd been staying at and never looking back. It was an easier choice for him than trying to live with that lie hanging between them. Unfortunately, being out on the trail alone did nothing to help stop the nightly visitations from ghosts of people that hadn't even been born yet...or may never be born, if he understood what Hal told him right.

By the beginning of the Centennial Year, Jonah had wandered down the Texas/New Mexico way. The man had become uncomfortable in his own skin, unsure of how to go on with his life in the past now that he'd seen the future. He started drinking again, not as heavily, but enough to blur his memory of what may or may not happen. It was hard to look at the world around him and think that, in less than two centuries, it could all be gone, wiped away by both progress and foolishness. Slowly, Hex began to fall away from his old path, no longer caring about the reputation he’d worked so hard to earn over the years, and he soon found himself on the wrong side of the cell door more often than not, living the life of an outlaw instead of a bounty hunter. That in turn led him to places that, in his previous life, he never would have thought existed. They had always been there, of course, but after the things he’d experienced in 2050, the strangeness of his own time became more evident: worm creatures, talking bears...not to mention a little troll of a man that could raise the dead.

Though he didn't know it, Doc “Cross” Williams did Jonah a favor. What the ugly skunk did to unsuspecting folks in general was nothing short of blasphemous, but when he resurrected the corpse of Wild Bill Hickok just for a bit of revenge, he inadvertently hit an area a bit too close to home for Jonah, especially with the silly fringed and embroidered outfit Doc made the dead man wear. It was Jonah’s worst nightmare come to life...or un-life, rather. To make matters worse, the Doc tried to do the same to Hex, and that just didn't sit well with him. Once he’d laid old Hickok to rest with a pair of bullets to the braincase (and another pair for the Doc’s knees), Jonah found himself sleeping a lot better at night. He knew that the Hickok corpse wasn't his own, but facing the thing head-on in a gunfight the way he did put something in his soul at ease.

Not long after that, Jonah began his journey back to the “civilized” world, doing his level best to rebuild his reputation as a hunter of men. He even managed to find a more suitable replacement for his old cavalry uniform along the way. Despite the time he'd spent out on the fringe of society, he soon found that little had changed in his absence. There would always be a need for men like him, ones that weren't afraid to get their hands bloody in the name of justice...and for now, that knowledge would have to be enough to get him by. It had taken a couple of years, but Hex had finally made peace with the thought that, try as he might, he'd never be the same man he was before he'd walked into the Red Dog Saloon. The months he'd spent in that hellish future had left a scar on him as deep and permanent as the one on his face, and if he could go on living with that twisted memento staring back at him from the shaving mirror every day, then he could live with the secret one in his mind and heart.

Time passed, as it is wont to do, and one evening Jonah rode into a town called Morrow deep in the Arizona Territory, dog-tired and in dire need of a bath. He wasn't normally inclined to such things, but after getting caught in a sudden downpour and subsequent mudslide two days previous, he figured soaking his old bones for a few minutes wouldn't kill him...providing he got out quick enough. The local hotel fulfilled his needs nicely, and he even sprung for a shave and haircut at the barber down the way the next morning. When he walked to the sheriff's office afterward to check for wanted posters, he looked almost respectable. Almost.

As he perused the papers tacked to the wall outside, the sheriff stepped out. He recognized Hex immediately and said, "You lookin' for work, bounty hunter?"

"Just 'til muh inheritance comes through," Jonah deadpanned. "Figure Ah must have a rich uncle somewheres thet'll kick the bucket soon."

"You and me both." He leaned against the doorframe, saying, "Got a job that's right up your alley, but it ain't on that there wall."

"Ah'm listenin'."

"Blond-haired fella named McAllister, he done shot up some folks 'bout a week ago, includin' one of my deputies. He lit out right after, headed north into the desert. We ain't been able to turn up hide nor hair of 'im since. I sent a wire to this little town just north of here, tellin' 'em to keep an eye out, but he ain't showed so far. Figure maybe he's tryin' to wait us out."

"Stupid move. This time of year, desert's hot enough tuh fry the Devil's tail off." He hitched his thumbs in his new gunbelt -- the old pair he'd brought back with him from the future had finally given up the ghost a couple of months ago, and he was back down to only one holster, the left-hand gun tucked beneath his belt like before. "How much yuh offerin'?"

"I can give you two hundred myself, and if I pass around the kitty, I might be able to get you a bit more."

Hex thought about it for a moment, then said, "Thet'll do fine." He headed back to the hotel to gather his gear and horse, then hit the trail. The rain the other day hadn't reached that far north, luckily, and there were still a few signs of McAllister's passing to be found. For hours, Jonah scanned his eyes over the country about him, searching for anything that would point him in the direction of his quarry. The heat of the day tore at him, threatening to boil him right out of his skin, but he didn't let it deter him in the least. As the sun moved closer to the west, the gunfighter began to think about making camp for the night, preferably in a shady spot. Those thoughts went right out of his head, however, when he saw movement off to the west: vultures...and they were circling.

Could be a stray cow, or maybe even a hobbled mustang, he thought, turning his mount in the direction of the birds. An' on the other hand, might be a man. Standing in the saddle, he drove the horse to a full gallop. There was the possibility that whomever or whatever lay out there was already dead, but if they weren't, then time was of the essence. Ain't many things worse than dyin' alone an' thirsty. Ah'm not a sociable man by nature, an' Ah'd just as soon cuss a man as look at 'im, but this is dif'rent. An' besides, could be Ah've found the man Ah've been lookin' fer!

The vultures appeared to be focused over a dry riverbed. Jonah rode alongside, and they fled at his approach, which was fine by him. Saved him the trouble of having to shoot them. He spurred his horse down the bank, but soon found himself almost thrown from the saddle as the animal reared up, veering away from an emerald shaft of light shooting up from out of the riverbed. He cursed and did his best to control the horse, then moved with caution towards the bank again, unsure of just what was going on. As he peered over the side, he saw a man with brown hair sprawled out below, dressed in clothes that had no Earthly reason for existing in 1878. The uniform was slightly different from the last time Hex had seen it, but not so different that he couldn't recognize an old friend.

Well, would yuh look at thet? Jonah thought. Hal Jordan, as Ah live an' breathe. A grin began to spread over his face, and he was about to call out a greeting, but then the Green Lantern raised his right hand. Another beam of light bolted past the gunfighter's head, missing it by inches and spooking the horse again. All thoughts of being friendly left his mind as he cursed once more and yelled, "Ease up, boy! Yuh tryin' tuh get a man killed?"

"Move one inch closer, cowboy, and dead is just what you'll be!" The black-and-green clad man propped himself up with his left hand, the ring on his right still trained on Hex. Sweat was pouring down the Hal's face, and it looked like he was on his way to a decent sunburn, as well. The mask he wore hid a good portion of his face, but Jonah could read his expression well enough to see that Hal meant every word he said.

Jonah was stunned, he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Why was Jordan acting like this? Hex was about to ask if the man had lost his mind from the heat, then he suddenly realized what year it was, and where he was...and he knew right then, even though the sheriff hadn't told him such, that the little town to the north he'd mentioned was called Desecration. A cold chill ran down his spine. While Jonah knew who the man was, Hal Jordan...this Hal Jordan...had never met him before. Their positions had been reversed from the last time, and unless Jonah wanted to tempt fate, he'd have to keep his trap shut about all he knew, or else risk screwing up the entire timestream.

Hal tried to stand, but he just didn't have the strength to pick himself up off the ground. He looked wasted, and Jonah wondered just how long the man had been out here in the middle of nowhere. One of the birds, seeing him struggle, dipped a little lower as it circled overhead with its brethren. The motion caught Hal's attention, and he asked in a raspy voice, "Those vultures up there...what are they doing?"

The bounty hunter didn't respond right away. When he finally did, he took account of every word he said before he spoke it, afraid of letting the wrong ones slip out. "They're waitin' on y'all tuh die, stranger." It was odd to call him that, after spending almost a week in his company all those years ago, but until Hal said his name outright, Hex would have to play dumb. "Looks tuh me like they might not have long tuh wait, either."

His right arm began to sag, as did the rest of him. "I don't know what you're talking about..." he managed to get out before collapsing, falling back onto the riverbed.

The irony of what Hal had said struck Jonah as funny, and he couldn't help but smile. "Ah'll bet yuh don't," he muttered, and swung out of the saddle. He didn't know how the Green Lantern had come to be in such a mess, but it was obvious to him that it wasn't a planned excursion. He grabbed a canteen and headed down the side of the bank, saying under his breath, "Comin' out in the desert without a horse...without proper clothes...why, son, it's a miracle Ah found yuh breathin'!" He soon found that his lecturing fell on deaf ears: Hal had passed right out, finally giving in to the oppressive heat. Figured he would, Jonah thought as he knelt down, didn't seem like he had much push left in him. He pulled out an old bandana, soaked it with water from the canteen, and laid it across Jordan's forehead. He then sloshed some more down the man's throat. Judgin' by his burn, he's been out in the sun eight, ten hours, bareheaded. Only a durn fool would try a stunt like thet.

But he knew Hal Jordan was no fool. A bit uppity maybe, as most Yankees were, but he had a good heart, and a willingness to go out of his way to help folks, whether they liked it or not. Whatever reason Jordan had for being out there, so far from his proper time and place, it was a good one. And Hex also knew that he'd soon find himself entangled in that reason as well, at least for a day. Jonah wished that the Green Lantern had told him more during their last time together, so he'd know what to expect, but things never worked that way for him. He'd just have to get through it like he always did, relying on his quick wits and quicker guns. At least this time, he'd have a friend by his side to get through it with.

Jonah looked up at the sky. The vultures had gotten the hint that the Green Lantern had been taken off the menu and moved on. A lucky break, since it meant that he wouldn't have to worry about wrestling Hal's unconscious form onto the horse. They would make camp there for now, and as soon as Jordan recovered, the two of them could get down to whatever business awaited them in the town of Desecration.

"Reckon Ah don't know whut'll happen when we get there, Hal," he said, "but Ah know it's gonna be a Hell of a day."