Summary: A torrential rain that hits the Sherman Ranch in Laramie, Wyoming is nothing compared to the fierce storm that engulfs Jess Harper and threatens to destroy his very existence.
Category: Laramie
Genre: Western
Rating: G
Word Count: 108,684
Chapter 1
Although it was barely mid-day in late summer, it was as dull as twilight on a winter’s evening. The sky directly above was overcast and gray, and a steady drizzle was managing to soak everything and anyone that ventured outside. Black thunder clouds were massing in the distance, their ominous shadow further darkening the land, and threatening to once more erupt into a fierce storm, as had been the case for the past three days.
The tall blonde rancher stepped out onto the porch, and after a reproachful glance at the distant storm, headed purposefully towards the barn. Stepping hurriedly through the door to get out of the rain, Slim Sherman, jumped backwards again with equal speed as an extremely smelly lump of stable debris flew past, narrowly missing him. “Easy there, Jess. You almost got me!” he exclaimed loudly, “Try and watch what you’re doing.”
The black-haired cowboy he’d addressed turned from the job he’d been tackling. “Sorry, Slim. I didn’t see you there,” he apologized, a mischievous smile flickering across his handsome face. “You come to give me a hand?” he questioned playfully.
The taller more heavily set man, glanced around the stalls, of which all but one were now cleaned and laid out with fresh straw. “Looks like you’ve got the job licked, Partner. I’ll let you finish up. Daisy said to tell you supper will be on the table soon.”
“I’ll be right there. With the horses being inside this past few days cause of the storms, it was a lot of muck to shovel. Kinda works up a man’s appetite.” Jess Harper spread the last stall with fresh straw and turned to walk back with his partner to the promised feast. He was pulled up short when Slim stepped in front of him, halting his progress.
Slim’s blue eyes danced with amusement as the taller man gently pushed Jess in the general direction of the wash tub by the back door. Jess turned, frowning, a peevish edge entering his voice. “Aw, Slim. I’m soaked already, and Daisy don’t like her good cooking to go cold at the table.”
“That’s damn right, but she don’t take kindly to us turning up at the table looking and smelling like we’ve spent a week on the trail either.” Again, Slim moved to propel the younger man towards the wash tub.
“All right, but let’s make it quick,” Jess moved reluctantly towards the icy water, but turned when he realized his friend was not following. “Well. What are you waiting for?” His thick black eyebrows rose questioningly.
“Sorry, Pard. I ain’t the one’s been rolling around in the manure. I’ve been doing the books all afternoon. Seems like you’re the only one in need of a bath.”
Laughing softly, Slim turned and headed back to the ranch house. “If you’re quick, you might just find a piece of apple pie left. Can’t guarantee it though.” Slim’s laughter increased at the muffled cursing and splashing he heard behind him, as a disgruntled Jess set about cleaning off the evidence of his hard work.
The ranch house door slammed shut behind the now relatively clean Jess Harper. He hastened to the table, addressing the woman he knew would be in the kitchen. “I hope you didn’t let Slim and Mike eat all that apple pie I know you were baking earlier,” he joked.
Slim looked across at his partner and friend. “’Bout time you got here. Mike and I are starving while waiting on you to show up.”
A younger voice joined in the conversation. “Aunt Daisy wouldn’t serve dinner till we were all here, Jess,” he stated, by way of an explanation for the growling of his stomach, “and I ‘m hungry enough to eat a whole cow.”
Jess reached over and tousled the boy’s sandy hair. “Is that right, Tiger. Then I reckon you’re gonna hafta fight me for it, cause I’ve worked up one Hell-,”
“JESS!” Daisy’s voice cut the air sharply. “I won’t have cussing at my table.”
The miscreant hung his head, and then looked up sheepishly, “Sorry Daisy.” Then he brightened, looking for all the world like a young boy himself. “But I sure am ready for some of your home cooking.”
Daisy had entered the room as she spoke and, setting down the heavy pan of fried chicken, she turned to look at Jess. When she saw that wistful smile on his face, she was always reminded of how young he really was, despite his worldly ways. She knew from what he had revealed of his past that he had had a rough time growing up. Yet the man she now regarded as a son, along with the other two male members of the household, had turned into a man any mother would be proud of. “You’re forgiven, provided all of this food I’ve been cooking is eaten up.”
“I ain’t arguing with that, Daisy.” Jess’s grin spread across his entire face. Moments like this reminded him of how lucky he was to have become part of this family.
He reached across to snag a piece of chicken, only to find the succulent piece of fowl he’d been eyeing snagged away by a laughing Slim Sherman. “You’ll have to be quicker than that, Partner. I reckon that reputation you’ve got for being quick on the draw must be a mite exaggerated.”
Jess picked up the pan and offered it to a now seated Daisy and then Mike. They each took a piece of the chicken and Jess then filled his own plate. “Nothing wrong with my speed, Pard. It’s just a fact some of us have some manners—.”
“What manners? At least I get to the table on time.” Slim shot back, emphasizing his words by poking his fork in the general direction of Jess, pleased to see the laughter in his friend’s eyes.
“Boy’s, let’s settle down and eat, otherwise I might just get the idea you’re all finished and clear up.” Daisy joined in the light-hearted banter going round the table.
As the four turned their attention to doing justice to the repast, the conversation settled down. Finally, after dinner and the much-anticipated apple pie, Daisy rose to clear the table. Jess hastily gained his feet. “Here, let us do that. Come on Slim, after such a good meal, we owe it to Daisy to clear up.”
“It’s all right, Jess. You’ve both been working non-stop these past days, what with this weather and all. You take it easy, Mike can help me clear up.” Daisy emphasised her statement by handing the plates to Mike. “Take them into the Kitchen, please, Mike.” Then she turned her attention back to the two young men. “Besides, I think Slim has some things he needs to talk to you about.”
Jess turned an anxious face towards Slim. “Problems?” he asked simply.
“Not yet, but there could be?” Slim moved from the table and took up his customary seat on a chair to one side of the fireplace. With a simple nod of his head he motioned the younger man to join him. Responding, Jess settled in to the rocking chair on the other side of the fire and placed one leg across the other, resting his ankle on his knee. He automatically started the chair moving in a gentle rocking rhythm, an unconscious move to soothe his now alert nerves.
It was the only thing that showed his concern, as he held his impatience in check, waiting for Slim to collect his thoughts. The taller blonde man was always slow to speak, carefully considering his words before speaking. Jess, on the other hand, although improving by association with Slim, was known to be quick with his tongue and his temper if he felt the cause was just. His impetuousness had landed him in hot water on many an occasion and was another difference between the two men who were closer than brothers to each other.
After what felt like an eternity to the worried Jess, Slim cleared his throat and began to speak. “I worked hard on the accounts today, Jess. I checked and double checked them to be sure they were in order.”
“Hey, I was the one mucking out the barn, I purely do know how hard you worked at them books, all warm and comfy at the desk. It was real rough on you.” Jess joked in an effort to alleviate what he thought was coming. He knew it had been a bad year, and it was only the stage line contract that had enabled them to keep up payments on the ranch mortgage. His forced smile faded when Slim failed to retaliate. He knew whatever the next thing Slim was going to say was serious. Jess stopped his incessant rocking and focused hard on his blond friends face.
Slim leaned forward toward Jess, keeping his voice low. “The ins and outs balance, just about.”
“That’s good news, ain’t it, Pard?” Jess questioned, his own voice barely above a whisper.
Shaking his head, Slim continued, “I don’t want to worry Daisy and Mike, Jess, but it isn’t a healthy margin between keeping going or failing to meet the next payment to the bank. We’re going to have to pull in our belts a notch and we can’t afford to lose any more stock.”
His blue eyes darkening with concern, Jess nodded as he considered their options. “What about the horses that the army is set to buy next month? Did you account for them in your figures?”
“No, Jess. The army didn’t sign any contract, we can’t count on that sale till the money’s in the bank. There’s nothing else for it, we’re going to have to knuckle down and make sure we don’t lose any cattle in the calving over the next few weeks.”
Concern written all over his face, Jess responded. “That ain’t gonna be easy Slim, with this rain and all.”
Having helped his aunt clear the table, Mike had been sent to his room to finish his schoolwork. While Slim had received a reasonable education, he had had to give up any ideas of college in order to run the ranch after his father had been murdered. Jess, on the other hand, obviously a clever man, had had very little opportunity to attend school. He had been forced to leave home at an early age, after his family died in a fire that had been deliberately set. He had been too busy simply surviving to have any chance at more than a basic education. Both men, however, knew that the west was changing, and the future lay with those who achieved academic qualifications. They were determined that their ward, Mike, would be given every opportunity they weren’t. From their point of view Mike’s schoolwork was given top priority.
Mike, for the most part was obedient, as much as any boy that age could be considered so, but right now he was neglecting his books. He had easily picked up on the concern in Slims voice, and the answering worry that it had generated in the usually congenial Jess. He was happy in his life here, and had quickly grown to love his new family. Now, out of a deep desire to help, he stood with his ear pressed closely to the small crack left by the not fully shut door. He had heard every word, and the more he heard the more his own fears increased.
“What do you want us to do?” Jess questioned intuitively. He knew they would have to work till they dropped over the next few weeks if there was to be any chance of succeeding in what Slim proposed. Jess, with Slim, Daisy and Mike, he had found the home and family he had been missing most of his life. Slim had accepted and supported him, despite his murky past, and had helped him clear his name and regain his self-respect. The older man was the brother Jess had always longed for and more so. He was prepared to give everything he had, including his life, to ensure he kept his family safe.
Slim shared Jess’ brotherly feelings. His own brother, Andy, had left for college not long after Jess Harper arrived in Laramie, and even though the two eventually shared a strange kinship that even Andy, could not help but notice, Slim’s first impression of Jess had not been a good one. The same irresponsible drifter, with whom he had a run in at their first encounter, eventually saved his life and a grateful Slim offered him a job on his ranch. Slim’s somewhat staid nature, at first, seemed to fight against the growing friendship he felt for the drifter, and it was Andy who first grew close to Jess. Possibly because of the closeness in their ages, Andy could easily see the basic good in Jess and somehow understood that it was cleverly hidden beneath a rough, devil may care, exterior. Eventually, Slim learned that, in spite of his youth, Jess had already done a lot of living and that the mischief he occasionally created reflected the child in him that had never been allowed to show. Slim now knew some of the gruesome details of the life the ex-gunslinger had been forced to live and realised that, despite all he had been through, he’d turned out to be a fine young man. No man could have been a better brother than Jess had repeatedly proven himself to be.
All this ran briefly through both men’s minds before Slim spoke again. “This unending rain will have swollen the river near to bursting its banks. The lower pastures will be boggy. I think we need to ride out tomorrow, despite the heavy rain, and start bringing the cattle up to higher ground.” He raised his head, waiting for Jess’ reply. It wasn’t long in coming.
The younger man was in full agreement. “We could make a start tonight if you like,” he suggested, thinking they could camp near the lower ground and get an early start.
“No, it would be too risky riding the flooded trails in the dark. We could easily lose a horse, or worse. We’ll get a good night’s sleep, then start out at first light.”
Jess saw the sense in what Slim was suggesting and nodded once. “I’ll ask Daisy to pack us some trail rations. Reckon we’ll be living rough for a few days….” The last was part statement and part question.
“Every minute will count, Jess. We can’t risk losing a single cow.” Slim’s voice carried the weight of his concern and it was not lost on Jess.
“Don’t worry, Pard, we’ll get this licked.” He reached over as he stood and squeezed Slim’s shoulder reassuringly, then strode into the kitchen to tell Daisy to ready the trail rations. He knew it was on the cards that they would be leaving at first light, before Mike or Daisy even woke up.
Daisy was worried, having lived out west long enough to know the dangers such weather could create, but she also knew the job had to be done.
Mike had quietly returned to his homework, and once finished, he had emerged from his room to find the two men preparing their saddlebags and bedrolls for the morning.
“Hi ya, Tiger, school work all done?”
“Yes. Are you going somewhere, Jess?” Mike asked innocently.
Jess knew the risks they faced the next day, but didn’t want Mike to worry. He forced himself to make light of the situation, while remaining truthful. “Slim and I are riding out tomorrow. Some of those ornery critters we call cattle are bound to have given themselves a mud bath. We thought we’d go round them up and head them back here. Daisy can give them a bath at the same time she’s bathing you.”
“Aw, Jess, I had a bath last week,” Mike protested. “Can I come and help?” Mike didn’t expect Jess to say yes, but he had to ask nonetheless.
Jess laughed and tousled the boy’s hair. “Sorry Tiger, you’ve got your chores to do, and I reckon Daisy’s going to need all the help she can get when the stage arrives tomorrow.”
“That’s right, Mike. Don’t you go getting any ideas. I’ll need you right here.” Daisy said as she emerged from the kitchen with several bags packed full of food. “Here, Jess, I hope this will be enough.”
“Thanks, Daisy. It looks plenty.”
“You’ll need good food to keep your strength up out in that weather.” It was a simple expression of her concern, though for Mike’s sake she forced a smile on her face.
Just then Slim came in, dripping water from his oilskin cape. He had ridden the short journey to their neighbours’ homestead to ask for someone to help Daisy when the stage arrived tomorrow. “It’s getting heavy again out there.”
“Here, let me take that.” Daisy took the offending clothing from his hands and slim moved over to the fire to warm up.
“Mister Perkins says he’ll be glad to come over to help change the teams when the stage comes in. There shouldn’t be any problems. You be sure to help and do as you’re told, Mike. Jess and I may be away for a few days. I don’t want any bad reports when I come back.”
“Don’t worry Slim, I’ll make sure everything’s fine.” He felt guilty for telling a lie, but reconciled it to himself by thinking he hadn’t really said just what he would ensure was fine. “Aunt Daisy, I think I’d like to go to bed now. I’ll need to be up bright and early if I’m gonna be the man in the house.”
“Well, that’s a sudden change, Mike. Go on then. I think we’ll all be having an early night.” She laughed as she affectionately kissed Mike on the cheek. Mike hastened over and kissed his two ‘uncles’ and then hastened to his bed. He needed as much sleep as possible if he was going to succeed in putting his plan into operation.
It was not that long after that the rest of the occupants of the house also took to their beds. Both men knew the task ahead was no easy one, and this might be their last chance of a good night’s sleep for several days. Given the worries, fears and concerns that haunted all their minds that night, none of them really achieved the restful night they all desired.
Chapter 2
The only visible evidence that it was dawn was the slight lightening in the dark grey sky over to the East. Black clouds darkened the horizon in all other directions, and ominous, grey, low storm clouds scuttled across the still dark sky, driven by the storm winds.
The house was a darker shape against the dark land. The yellow glow of the lantern that lit the room, shined briefly out onto the porch as two figures exited its comforting warmth. Across the yard, a figure was silhouetted briefly in the doorway of the dimly lit barn before it moved forward, leading two saddled horses.
As Jess reached the house, he handed the reins of one mount to Slim Sherman. “Here you go, Pard, all ready to hit the trail?” Jess turned his blue eyes towards the pair, before continuing softly. “ How many sticks of dynamite you use to get him out of bed, Daisy?”
“I didn’t need any,” stated Daisy with a curt smile. “The smell of the hot pancakes did the trick.”
Jess, made a playful lunge at his friends stomach, “Those pants of yours will bust right open soon. Reckon we’d better ride hard and work off some of that stomach you keep insisting is muscle.”
Slim feigned anger as he responded. “I’ll show you who’s the one around here in danger of busting out of his clothes. I’ll out ride you and round up more head than you before this day is out.”
“Care to make a bet on it.” Jess was acting like he was about to set off on a Saturday night jaunt, and Slim was playing along in an effort to reassure Daisy that all was well. Deep down they realized that Daisy knew full well the dangers and risks ahead, but nonetheless they kept the atmosphere as casual as possible.
Slim picked up the conversation and continued in the same light-hearted manner. “Nope, Pard. It wouldn’t be fair to take your hard-earned cash that way. It’d be like taking candy from a child.”
A worried look flitted briefly across Jess’ face. “Speaking of children is Mike all right. I think he heard some of our talk last night, Daisy. I wouldn’t like to think of him worrying on things.”
“Don’t you two fret, I’ll explain it to him so’s he won’t worry on it too much. Then I’ll keep him so busy with his homework and chores he won’t have time to think about it. You’ll both be back safe and sound before he’s had time to miss you.” Daisy kept her voice light and reassuring, hiding her own concerns. The weather had been fiercely destructive, the ground was treacherous and muddy, and a landslide could easily carry horse and rider to their deaths. Even though she had every confidence in the resourcefulness of the two young men before her, she could not help but worry about them and she knew that she would not stop worrying until they were both back safe and sound.
A small figure watched the exchange from the shadows of the woodshed. Too far away to hear the words clearly, he could still see the anxiety in the stance of the people outside the house. Tension was evident in the posture of the hidden figure also. Mike kept himself well back behind the building, peering out cautiously to observe the progress of his two adopted uncles. He knew he would be in terrible trouble for this, but he had to take that risk. His new family needed him, and he was determined to help. They had given him so much and now it was his chance to return some of that love and caring.
He had come from his room the previous evening, asking for some supper. Daisy had laughed at his young appetite and told him to help himself in the kitchen. Carefully, in case he was being observed, Mike had secreted several biscuits and apples and sneaked them back to his room. He had wrapped them inside the bundle of clothes and a blanket he had pulled off his bed, and hidden the whole thing behind his cupboard, before settling in bed.
He heard the men when they rose with the dawn, despite their efforts to be quiet. But that wasn’t surprising given that he had lain awake most of the night. His anticipation had not allowed him more than short periods of light sleep. Once he knew that Daisy was in the kitchen he had dressed in his warmest cloths and rolled the rest up. These he placed in his bed and covered them with a blanket. In the dull light it passed as a sleeping boy to the quick observer. That was what he was counting on. Hopefully, Daisy would want him to sleep in until the men where long gone, knowing how he would fret at their absence.
Mike hoped he would be at least an hour’s ride away before she found out he was gone, and then it would be too late. She would have to wait on the neighboring homesteader, who was due at eleven, before she could organize a pursuit. He would be well away by then and would join Slim and Jess. Given the urgency of their work, the two friends would not be able to spare the time to see him home and so he would be allowed to stay and help. Oh, he knew he would be in deep trouble, but that would soon pass once he showed them how useful he could be.
He watched intently as Daisy reached up and pulled each man insistently down towards her to plant a soft kiss on each cheek. “Just take care, both of you. Don’t take any stupid risks. Nothing is more important than your lives.”
As she stood back, both men tipped their hats to her and wheeling their horses around headed off towards the trail that would take them down to the lower pastureland by the river. It was a good two-hour ride in good weather, and neither expected to make good time today. If they were real lucky they might reach their first destination shortly before noon.
Daisy watched their departing forms until they disappeared around the bend in the road and with a soft sigh she turned back into the house. Quietly, lest she disturb the still sleeping Mike, she opened the door to his room a crack. In the dim light she saw the hunched up shape of the boy in the bed. Smiling, she shut the door quietly again and returned to her own still warm bed. It was going to be a long, hard few days, with little time to rest. A few hours sleep taken now may make all the difference to how well she coped during this time.
Outside, Mike finally stepped out of the shadows leading his already saddled pony. Earlier he had waited until Jess had exited the barn with the horses, and then sneaked in to saddle his own pony, a surprise birthday present from Slim, Jess and Daisy.
He had a good idea of where the two men were heading and knew the trail at least part of the way. Mike’s keen ears had heard Slim mention building a small corral to hold the cattle and Jess had suggested the small valley where he had taken Mike fishing a few times last summer. It was sheltered, not too far from the lower pastures, and had a natural water supply. Right now, it was high enough above the river’s flood line to ensure the safety of the cattle. More importantly, from young Mike’s point of view, he was pretty sure he could find his way there alone.
Once the light went out in the ranch house, he led the pony out from behind the shed and continued to lead it until well clear of the house. When he was sure he was far enough away to avoid being heard, he mounted up and urged his pony onwards, following the same trail as the men.
With the recklessness of youth, he let the pony speed up into a gallop, not realizing the potential dangers hidden by the mud. The two experienced men ahead were holding their mounts back to a steady trot, sometimes slowing to a walk. They were filled with the urgency to get to the low-lying pastures as soon as possible, but were only too well aware of the risk to both horse and rider posed by the slippery, muddied road.
Fortunately for Mike, he managed to pull the pony to a stop, before he plowed in to his ‘uncles’. They were too engrossed in scanning the track for hazards, to see him on the rise behind them, and the growling thunder that was rolling around in the hills covered the sound of the pony’s hooves. Recovering from his near miss, Mike waited shadow of the trees until the two men had moved on. Keeping to the shadows, he cautiously followed them.
It was two downcast and wet men who arrived at the small canyon that was to be made into their makeshift corral. With no time to lose, Slim and Jess set about cutting down branches from the nearby trees to use as fencing to keep the rescued cattle held safely in the canyon. Half the day was gone and they still hadn’t been able to start the round up itself.
Over in the distant hills dark clouds lit by frequent flashes of lightning spoke of the storm still raging there. Both men found themselves casting frequent glances in that direction, anxious in case the winds changed and brought the storm to them.
Despite the urgency to get on with the job, they had to deal with the priorities of living outdoors, so a small makeshift camp was made. A good amount of wood was gathered and placed in a sheltered area to dry, for the campfire they would need that night.
While all this was going on, a small figure on a pony slipped by unnoticed. Mike knew the trail from here to the river pastures. Jess had taken him camping to this very canyon, and they had made a daily fishing trip to the river, during a few days last summer when they took a break from the hard slog of running a ranch.
Mike was determined to prove his worth to his adopted family. By the time Slim and Jess made it down to the river, he was going to have several cows and their calves safely rounded up and tied on a line, ready for the men’s arrival. With such a catch to prove his skills they would have to let him stay and help, wouldn’t they?
As sure-footed as the little pony was, it began to struggle against the sucking mud that now passed as the river road. With an uncensored feeling of security that only the very young can have, Mike saw no danger in his situation and continued to urge his mount onwards.
Nearing the river, a low noise to his left drew his attention, and moving slightly off the trail he saw a young calf. It was lowing softly and moving restlessly near a flooded area close to the river. Even to Mike’s relatively inexperienced eyes, the animal was in trouble.
The pony began to flounder and Mike needed to get closer to the calf if he was to successfully get a rope on it. He knew it was not likely that a calf as young as this one would stray far from its mother.
Beneath him the pony came to a stop, sensing the treacherous ground ahead. Despite Mike’s urges, it refused to move forward again.“ Come on, Paint, you can do it.” urged Mike, as he kicked his heels into the pony’s flanks. Still the small horse refused to move into the boggy ground. Finally, Mike was forced to dismount and ground tie the animal, before he continued on foot.
Carrying the coil of rope he’d hung on Paint’s saddle. Mike approached the distressed calf quietly. The calf kept its attention on something close to the river’s edge, so Mike managed to get in close to the animal. Moving quickly he placed the loop around the animal’s neck and pulled it tight setting it in place. Only then did he look in the direction that had claimed the calf’s attention.
“No wonder you’re so bothered,” he said, speaking aloud his thoughts to the young animal. “ Don’t you worry none, I’ll get your momma out.” This last was said with more confidence than he felt, as he looked at the struggling heifer. Its hindquarters looked to be sunk in the river itself, just short of the main flow of water.
Tugging firmly on the rope, Mike led the reluctant calf away, speaking soft reassurances as he did so. Eventually, he got the small animal off the muddy patch and onto the relatively dryer high ground. Once there he took a shorter rope and used it to tether the calf to a tree. He would need his lasso for the next job of rescuing the mother.
This time he knew he would need help. No matter what Paint thought about it, the pony was going to have to cross the semi-flooded pastureland. Mike grabbed the reins on his reluctant pony and hauled it along behind him as he moved cautiously towards the heifer that was fighting to get out of the eddying water and onto safer ground. He could see the animal was suffering from the effects of fighting the cold current, as its struggles became weaker.
“It’s all right girl, I’ll soon have you out.” He mimicked the way he had seen his two guardians speak to panicked animals, trying to soothe their fear. Whether by sheer luck or skill he didn’t know, but he managed to throw the rope around the animal’s head. He tied the other end of the rope to his saddle horn and mounted Paint.
Steadily he urged the small pony to pull backwards, encouraging the heifer slowly up, out of the water and onto the boggy ground. Finally the animal seemed to realize she could find purchase for her feet and began to move herself forward as well. Exuberant at his success, Mike jumped from his horse and ran to the cow. He removed his lasso and urged the animal forward. At first she was reluctant to move, but Mike started pushing her from behind and once she heard the lowing of her offspring she found new strength.
The young boy was totally unprepared for what happened next. Suddenly the cow surged forward, kicking back with her hind legs to gain purchase. One of her hooves caught Mike on his thigh, sending him flying backwards. Trying and failing to regain his footing, Mike found himself sliding down the muddy bank into the freezing waters. He grabbed frantically at branches that overhung the bank, seeking a lifeline. He was a strong swimmer, but knew he wouldn’t stand a chance against the swirling, rain swollen river if he were carried away from the relatively calmer waters of the runoff.
On his third attempt he succeeded in getting a good grip on a strong branch and held himself there, but he was unable to gain footing. The slick mud in the runoff allowed him no ground and the more he struggled, the more the mud shifted beneath his feet, threatening to send him out into the dangerous currents of the main river.
The seriousness of his situation began to register on the plucky boy, and he realized he was going to need help to get out of the water. He reasoned that Slim and Jess would be along soon, and although he knew he would be in a lot of trouble for his escapade, he knew the two men would soon have him safe on dry land.
It seemed to the young the young boy that he had been holding on for an eternity but in fact it was only a few minutes. His body had begun to rapidly lose heat in the icy waters and his limbs were becoming numb. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t prevent his weakening grip from slipping on his lifeline branch.
He recognized that somehow he had to secure himself to the branch, so that when his grip failed, he would not be swept away. Releasing one hand, he fumbled with his belt buckle. Finally managing to undo it, he pulled it free of the first trouser loop and threaded it around the branch, fastening it back through the buckle again. Now, even if he lost his hold, he figured he should remain safely held by the belt.
Mike knew that his two ‘uncles’ must have been coming soon. The trail they had taken to the river led directly here, and it was the logical place to start their search for strays caught by the floods. He could only hope they wouldn’t decide to stay at the campsite and start afresh in the morning.
Chapter 3
Straightening up with a groan, Slim Sherman rubbed his aching back and looked across at his best friend and partner. “Reckon that should do it?” he asked.
Jess let the last branch he had dragged across the muddy ground drop into place in the makeshift corral gate the two had constructed across the canyon entrance. “It better be all right, Pard, cause I don’t reckon I can lift one more log.” Jess mimicked Slim as he rubbed his own lower back, trying to ease the dull ache that was building to a crescendo there. “A hot coffee and a meal would go down well right about now.” He spoke with little hope of agreement.
“I know, but—“Slim started to reply.
“Yeah, I know. We could round up several strays if we keep going till evening.” Jess forced a smile. “ Come on then, let’s mount up. I reckon I can wait for that coffee. Besides, your cooking ain’t a patch on Daisy’s, so I don’t feel no urgency to eat your offerings.”
“Who said I was cooking?” huffed Slim, as he mounted. “I thought it was your turn.”
Knowing full well Daisy had packed cold chicken and apple pie for their first trail meal Jess laughed. “Okay, partner, I ain’t gonna waste my breath arguing with you. I’ll provide tonight’s meal; you take your turn tomorrow. Anyways my cookin’s got yours beat any day, so I’d rather be eating mine first night out.”
Slim started to rise to the bait, then stopped short, his mouth dropping open.
“What you gawking at, Slim?” Jess asked, knowing full well what was coming next.
Slim’s mind was replaying their departure from the ranch that same morning. “Hey, didn’t Daisy pack us some stuff for tonight’s meal? I recall her saying something about being fool enough to work till we dropped and not taking the time to cook a decent meal.”
“Reckon I do recall something like that. Oh well, guess I just got lucky.” Jess swung up into his saddle with the ease of one born to it, and urged his horse on towards the river, leaving a frowning Slim looking daggers at his back.
Finally Slim allowed himself a small smile, amused at the antics of his friend. If Jess could be blamed for anything, it was bringing a little light-hearted amusement into the once much too serious life of Slim Sherman. He dug his heels into his horse’s flank and trotted forward to catch up with his younger friend.
The mud on the road increased as they came closer to the rivers flood plain. Accordingly the two friends slowed their pace, knowing how dangerous such ground could be. Neither wanted to have to deal with a horse with a broken leg, let alone contemplate the consequences of an injury to themselves. The extent of the damage the recent heavy rains had caused was considerable, and Slim verbalised what they both were thinking. “ This is worse than I thought. We may have already lost some stock to the earlier floods.”
Raising worried blue eyes to the darkening gray sky, Jess Harper nodded. “Whatever you’re planning to get done tonight, Slim, we’d best get to it. It looks like the worst of the storm may be headin’ this way.”
He had been a few yards ahead of his best friend, allowing his horse to find its own way down the treacherous trail. Reigning in his horse he turned in the saddle awaiting Slims reply. As he turned his face upward, the first spattering of the rain caught him. In response he wrapped his jacket tighter around himself and pulled his hat down low.
Slim scanned the horizon and noted that the black clouds that had been hovering over the distant mountains were moving in fast, getting closer by the minute, driven by the winds that where even now beginning to whip the trees around them. The thunder was not so distant now either, and the time between the brilliant flashes of sheet lightening and its deafening crashes was shorter, signaling the closeness of the impending storm. Slim made a quick calculation. “There should be time for us to reach the river, and then if we split up we can cover a mile or so in each direction before the storm hits.”
Jess turned forward again, urging his horse on, with Slim following as close as was sensible. A few minutes later they could just about make out the edge of the river ahead as the coming storm turned the afternoon to twilight. The sound of snapping twigs and a soft lowing encouraged both men to turn off the trail towards the darker moving shadows they could see there. Jess stopped dead and squinted his eyes. A calf was tethered there and close by its mother was fussing around it. He noted that they both looked a little the worse for wear but otherwise they seemed okay.
Slipping from his saddle Slim went over to examine them. “ They’re in fair condition considering they look like they may have been caught in the flooding, but who the hell got them out and tied them here? Think we may have rustlers, Pard?”
A negative shake of his head told Slim that Jess didn’t think that was the case.
“Don’t know any rustlers who’d risk their necks in these conditions to get a couple of near dead animals.” Jess had remained in his saddle, and he now stood up in his stirrups to look around, his keen eyes narrowing in an effort to pierce the gloom around them. He noted the rope trailing from the heifer’s neck and saw it’s frayed end trailing in the grass. Something had clearly caused the rope to break. “Whoever it is, they could be in trouble,” he stated.
“Let’s split up, Jess. You follow the river right for a mile; I’ll go left. Give a single shot if you find anything, and I’ll do the same. Come a running if you hear that shot, otherwise I’ll meet you back here in an hour.” Slim raised his head to scan the sky again. In the closer foothills forks of lightening speared to the ground and the rain could be seen as an impenetrable sheet of gray pouring downwards.
Slim knew his friend’s strength of character and determination and while they were just some of the many traits he admired in the man, he also knew how foolhardy Jess could be at times. “An hour, Jess, that’s all we can risk before it gets too dark to see. If you’re not back here by then, I’ll be looking for you, and I won’t be in too happy a mood.”
“Stop your fretting, Partner, I’ll be here. Just make sure you get yourself back here too.” Jess once more pulled his hat down against the increasing downpour, and, hunching lower in his saddle, wheeled his mount to follow the swollen, fast flowing river down-stream to the right.
Behind him, a worried Slim called after his friend, “Be careful Jess, I don’t want to be fishing your ornery hide outta that river.” Then he turned his horse in the opposite direction and headed upstream.
The gathering storm was making it almost impossible to see, and the further upstream Slim went, the darker it became. He looked worriedly up at the mountains, well aware of the damage a flash flood could cause. After fifteen minutes of painfully slow progress, he decided to give up and turn back to meet his friend back at the river crossing. The return journey proved even slower, with his mount tiring as it struggled to keep its footing in the slippery mud. He hoped Jess was faring better and had maybe found the person who had roped the calf.
He smiled as he thought of Jess. From the onset of their relationship, it had been obvious that Jess attracted trouble. No matter how hard the younger man tried to steer clear of problems, they just seemed to search him out. Of course, Jess’ stubborn nature and quick temper didn’t help. Things had gotten better of late, as Slim seemed to have a steadying influence on the younger man, but still trouble and Jess Harper seemed to have an affinity for each other. As much as the two men now joked about it, Slim worried about Jess at times, much to the amusement of the others, including Jess himself.
He hadn’t heard anything to signal that Jess had fared any better than him, but he also knew from hard experience that Jess was stubborn and would tackle things alone on many occasions when he shouldn’t. This trait had been one of the few that caused friction between the two men. Once more he looked back at the storm that now seemed to be racing towards them, and hoped Jess was all right.
Jess had watched his partners retreating back with similar concerns. Slim had thrown him a lifeline at a time in his life when he could so easily have taken the wrong trail. He’d been running from a hard past, and although he had fought in the war and acquitted himself well, young as he was, things had not gone well afterwards. Perhaps because of all he’d seen and experienced in that war, Jess had run wild for a time and had gotten in with the wrong sort of people. A chance meeting with a rancher called Sherman had turned his life around, and he would always be grateful to Slim for believing in him. His friendship had come to mean everything to the young drifter, and finally he had recognized his need for a family. Slim Sherman offered that family willingly.
When Slim’s form could no longer be seen, Jess tugged on the reigns and turned his horse downstream. The going was hard here, as the river had burst it’s banks in several places, and on retreating had left sodden ground and pools of deceptively still water. Jess skirted these pools whenever he could, knowing that a horse could easily misstep and break a leg, possibly sending it’s rider into an equally harmful fall. Being this cautious frustrated the anxious man, as it slowed him down. The light was disappearing fast, and he could only see a few yards ahead.
Suddenly, he caught a glimpse of movement in the trees to his right and moved away from the river towards it, drawing his gun as he did so. His own horse answered a soft snicker, and he stroked the animal’s neck reassuringly.
“Easy, boy, easy. Ain’t anything for you to get skittish about.” His voice was deceptively even, showing no trace of the tension he felt.” All right, I don’t mean you any harm. Come on out but keep your hands out where I can see them.”
No voice answered him, and no one appeared in answer to his challenge. Once again he called out, more sharply this time.
“Now look, storm’s coming in fast and I ain’t got time to be waiting on you, come out now, cause you ain’t gonna like it if I have to come in and get you.” He moved his horse closer to the tree line, to emphasize his point.
Wet, cold, tired and hungry, Jess was in no mood for this. He was about to move into the trees when a small stocky shape detached itself from the surrounding shadows and moved forward.
His breath caught in his throat as the small pony came into view. “No, it couldn’t possibly be Paint,” he thought. The pony recognized Jess’ mount as a fellow stable companion and moved closer. Recognition hit Jess hard. “Oh, dear God, it IS Paint” he looked around anxiously, cursing at the fading light. “Then where the hell is Mike?”
Dismounting, Jess hastily checked the small horse over. He found a few scratches and a lot of mud, but nothing serious. He also noted the frayed end of the rope attached to the horse’s saddle horn. “Well, that answered the question of who had roped the calf,” he thought.
“Mike?” he shouted, then listened intently for a reply above the cracks of thunder. He tried again. “Mike, you can come out, you ain’t gonna be in bad trouble, boy. I just need to see you’re safe and sound.” Again he stood still, hoping against hope to hear the young boy’s response. He knew he should be angry with the child, but right now all he could feel was a deep gut-wrenching fear.
Finally accepting that there was not going to be a response, he tied the smaller animal to his own horse and remounted, leaning low in the saddle as he strained to follow the tracks it had left. Even as he was consumed with fear for the boy, Jess decided to delay giving the signal to alert Slim, until he had more of an idea of just what had happened. To subject Slim unnecessarily to the gut twisting pain Jess was now experiencing was unthinkable. No, the signal could wait until he had a better idea of the situation. Better yet if he found Mike alive and well, it would save his friend a lot of worry.
It was hard going in the near darkness, but the pony’s hooves made smaller prints than his own horses hooves, so he managed to trail it back to the river. There the ground was churned up by a lot of prints, including those of the heifers. Jess dismounted close to the edge of the dirty pool that had escaped the rivers banks. Dropping to a crouch he peered closely at the ground. His breath was sucked in sharply as his keen eyes picked out the smaller, less deep prints of a child. “Lord, don’t let him have gone near the river.” he thought.
Straightening up he peered through the descending gloom towards the swollen river. It was difficult to make out anything amid the darker shapes and shadows that lined the riverbank. There was nothing for it; he would have to get closer to the raging water. Leading his horse by the reins, Jess waded forward through the muddied pool, going slowly in case he tripped on any hidden obstacles beneath the murky waters. Finally, he stopped and looked around again.
“Mike. Mike, boy. Are you here?” His voice was roughened by concern. Once again he peered through the darkness, narrowing his eyes in the hope of seeing more.
Only a few yards away, the young boy shifted in response to his name. He had waited for what seemed like hours and had almost given up on his ‘uncles’ arrival to rescue him. He felt numb all over and his fingers couldn’t feel the branch they were closed around.
The rain began to fall in earnest now as the first wave of the true storm swept down from the mountains. The accompanying wind began to whip the nearby trees into frenzy.
“Mike. Answer me, boy, if you can hear me! Mike!” The last effort was practically a scream in an attempt to overcome the sound of the wind and rain.
This time the young boy recognized the voice and what it represented. He struggled against the heaviness of his body and raised his arm.
“I’m here. Over here,” he forced out.
“Mike?” Jess had heard the weak call and turned to peer in the direction it came from.
‘There’ he thought, as he saw the movement. ‘Please be alright.’
“I’m coming, Mike,” he shouted, striding towards the shadowy form, heedless of any danger to himself. As he drew close he saw the problem. The boy was trapped in the deeper water, his lower legs out in the main current that tugged mercilessly at him. Mike had been unable to find purchase against that pull. The only thing that had saved him from being swept away in the deluge was his fragile hold on the tree branch that hung low over the water.
Jess looked around frantically, searching for a safer means to get to the child.
“Jess, please, I can’t hold on any longer,” came the plaintive plea from Mike, tearing through Jess’ heart.
“Hold on, Tiger, I’m coming.” Jess forced himself to sound confident as he replied. He could see no other way to get to the boy other than to wade out into the river against the force of the flow. Right now, what he wouldn’t give to have some help. ‘If only Slim where here’ Jess thought. Slim, of course. What an idiot he was. Now that he had found Mike, this would be the time to signal for the much needed help.
Cursing his own stupidity under his breath, Jess pulled his gun and gave the pre-arranged signal. Re-holstering his weapon, he set out towards the boy, knowing that Slim would come, but not knowing how long it would take him to get there. He didn’t think he could afford to wait any longer. Mike looked exhausted and the river was rising far to quickly, fuelled by the runoff from the mountain storms.
As the worried Jess Harper struggled to reach Mike, he found himself fighting an undertow that threatened to sweep his legs away beneath him. He could feel the icy, fast flowing water drawing away his body warmth and strength, and wondered at the condition of the smaller, more vulnerable child. As he drew within a few feet of Mike, he lunged forward, grabbing him and the branch to which he was clinging.
“It’s okay, you’ll be okay now,” he murmured, offering comfort to the boy.
“Let go now and I’ll carry you into shore.”
When Mike failed to respond, Jess tried again, forcing himself to remain calm for the child’s sake.
“I’ve got you, Tiger. You’ve done real well so far. Just a few more minutes and you’ll be safe. Let go of the branch, son, I ain’t gonna let go of you.” Gently Jess pried the boy’s stiff fingers from their grasp on the tree. He could feel his own legs becoming numb, and the water that had been swirling round his mid thighs was rising to his hips. He knew he had to get the boy to safety now, before the river rose anymore.
Finally Mike released his hold, and Jess pulled him closer and stepped towards the shore. He almost lost his footing as he was dragged sharply backwards.
“What the hell—” escaped his tight lips before he could stop himself.
“J–Jess, it–it’s my b–belt,” Mike stammered, his teeth chattering. “ I looped it t—to the t–tree, in c—case I—”
Realizing what the boy meant, Jess fumbled with his free hand to release the belt buckle. The icy water made his fingers thick and clumsy, and by the time he had freed it the water was waist high.
“Jess! Hold on! I’ll toss you a rope,” another voice shouted across the now howling wind.
The rapidly tiring man looked up to see Slim at the edge of the quickly expanding flooded area. He had arrived as Jess was struggling to free Mike and realized the danger the rising water represented. He dared not enter the torrent, as it was now so fierce he doubted he would reach them. He could see that if Jess let go of the tree, he was likely to be swept away, as he would not be able to fight the raging water with Mike in his arms.
Recognizing his own weakening body, Jess thanked his lucky stars when he saw his partner on the bank.
“Slim, thank the Lord. Hurry up. I’ll tie Mike to the rope. I think he has been in this bath long enough.” What he wanted to say was he knew Mike was close to losing consciousnesses and needed to get warm and dry now, before he possibly became so cold he risked death. For the child’s sake he tried to make light of the situation.
Nodding in comprehension of the true gravity of the situation, Slim swung the rope in a wide arc, aiming to get it out next to the struggling pair. It fell short, even though his friend stretched to reach it; the current carried it away from his frantic grasp. Lips tight with concern, Sherman wound the rope back in, knowing it was now wet and would be heavier to throw. He also knew that this next throw must count. The water was now up to Jess’s chest, and he could see his friend was losing his fight to hold on against the drag of the river. The storm was raging full force around them now, and the pouring rain further swelled the already overflowing river.
Shutting out everything but the rope and the man and child counting on him, Slim put all his strength of will and physical force behind his next throw. It went true to its mark, falling only inches short of his friend and their ward. Despite his stiff limbs, aching now with the cold, Jess grabbed at the rope, his fingers closing about the lifeline. He pulled it towards him, taking as much slack as he could. As fast as he could he tied the rope around Mike, knotting it firmly under his arms. Then he signaled his partner, raising his voice above the storm.
“Pull him in,” he commanded.
“Get hold of the rope yourself Jess, I can get you both in.” Slim shouted back, realising that if he didn’t get them both to shore this first try, he may not be able to get the rope back out there. He himself was now standing in two feet of water.
“No,” Jess tossed his head, “Currents too strong out here, you’d lose us both. I can hang on. Mikes has been in the water a lot longer; he needs out now.” He too realized that a second attempt might not be possible, but Mike’s life hung in the balance, and he would not put the child’s welfare at more risk.
A resigned Slim took up the slack on the rope as Jess released his grip on the boy. Straight away the current began to pull the child downstream, but, muscles straining, Slim fought the current. It seemed he was pulling on that rope for an eternity, his entire world focused on pulling Mike to safety. Slowly his dogged determination won through and inch by slow inch he pulled the child to shore.
It seemed like forever to both men, but finally Slim was able to grab Mike’s arms and pull him up out of the water. He lifted the small shivering form in his arms, and taking care not to slip, he hurried to his waiting horse where the ground was higher and safe from the rising waters, at least for now. Hastily he freed the rope from around the boy and wrapped him in his saddle blanket. It was not ideal, being somewhat wet itself, but it would have to do until he could get Mike to their small camp. Right now his priority was to go help pull Jess from the river before he lost his fight against the flood and was swept away.
The smaller man, though strong, was losing his battle against the rising water. His feet could no longer find purchase and the branch that had been his lifeline was making ominous cracking noises as it, too, lost its battle against the currents. In the brief time Slim had taken to carry the boy to temporary safety, Jess had found himself in the middle of the expanded river and had already been pulled down several times by the fierce undertow that had developed. He had never been so cold and the roaring in his ears, coupled with his dimming vision told him he was losing the fight. He struggled against the invading darkness, fighting to stay conscious; instinctively aware that to give in now would mean his death.
“Jess. Jess, can you hear me?” Slim’s shout roused him and he raised his head and replied weakly, his voice a hoarse croak due to the water he was swallowing.
“Yeah. I hear ya,” he managed.
Sherman heard the failing strength in Jess and needed no further urging. He threw the rope straight and true, the end virtually hitting Jess’ arm. His fingers were too numb now to tie a knot, but he managed to wrap the rope around himself and hold the end in front.
“Reel me in,” he instructed.
Slim’s muscles tensed, his legs seeking purchase on the muddy ground. Time and again his feet slipped, but still he pulled, finding a reserve of strength when he thought he was spent. Jess was slender but muscular, and his relatively lightweight body was proving heavy now it was soaking wet. The undertow of the river was pulling against the rope, continuously threatening to tear the rope from Slims hands.
Kicking his legs frantically and trying to swim towards his friend, Jess did his best to help, but found himself repeatedly pulled under by the current, only to resurface seconds later, coughing and spluttering and weaker from the lack of oxygen.
Slowly, battling the raging waters for every inch, Slim dragged the weakening man towards shore. Dimly he registered a dull roar, and dismissed it as the blood pounding in his ears with the effort he was putting forth. Jess was like a brother to him, and he would put his own life on the line to ensure his safety. The precious seconds ticked past and he was gaining ground, then the roar became a deafening cacophony, like a waterfall in full flood. Crashes and tearing noises joined the all-engulfing assault on his ears, and with a heart-wrenching jolt, Slim realized what was happening.
Fed by the torrential rain in the high mountains, the river had swollen to the point of bursting through the natural dams that occurred in the foothills. Carrying boulders and whole trees in its swollen flow, it was tearing down towards the struggling men. Slim knew what was about to hit them and refused to waste the energy to spare a look in the direction of the noise. Frantically he continued to haul on the rope.
But Jess heard the sound as well and looked up river towards it. He saw the wall of water and debris bearing down on them and knew it would be mere seconds till it hit, carrying both men to their death. He looked to the shore and instantly reasoned that the distance to safety was too great. Slim would not be able to pull him to the bank in time. There was no hesitation in deciding what he must do. He was not prepared to let Slim die in a futile attempt to save him, and he knew that Slim would not give up on the rescue as long as he thought there was the slightest chance of saving him.
Raising his voice above the rapidly advancing roar, Jess shouted with the last of his strength, “Slim. Get Mike to safety.” Then with one last look, he released his hold on the rope, allowing it to slip away.
“Nooooo—-” was the last word he heard from Slim, before the raging wall of death hit him and tore him away from his friend.
Slim Sherman stumbled forward. He couldn’t believe what had just happened. Even as he understood Jess’ intentions to sacrifice himself, he could not help but plunge through the water to try and grab his friend. The mud sucked at his feet dragging him back, mere seconds seemed like hours as Slim struggled to reach his partner. Lunging forward he felt his fingertips brush the cloth of Jess’ sleeve, and even as he sought to grasp that arm he heard the roar of the waters above him and felt himself being tugged under as he saw Jess get hit by an uprooted tree and disappear.
With a valiant effort he fought to regain his feet and headed to the shallower water, intending to race downstream, determined to pull his best friend from the raging waters. As he reached the shore he turned to search the water for any sign of Jess. He jerked his head upward as he spotted him, then watched in horror as his friend’s limp form was once again dragged under the water as the tree trunk he was snared on hit the rocks lower down and rolled over. He ran forward, anxiously trying to catch sight of Jess resurfacing, but in the darkness saw nothing but the bulk of the tree as it snared more debris and headed to the rapids he knew to be further along.
As Slim ran, he searched the banks hoping to see a sign that somehow Jess had made it to shore. Finally, he had to stop as he reached the top of a steep incline, where the river tumbled thirty feet or more to the rocks below. He would need his ropes if he were to climb down there. Standing peering into the foaming hell below he tried frantically to see any signs to show that his friend had been carried this far. Finally, he had to acknowledge that he had to return to his horse and get help. It was then that the memory of a small boy he’d left huddled in blankets burst through the horror of watching his adopted brother swept to his death. ‘No’, he chastised himself. ‘I mustn’t think like that, Jess isn’t dead. He can’t be. He’s resourceful and strong. He must have gotten out of the river somehow’
Though his heart kept clinging to this thought, his mind told him otherwise. As he retraced his weary steps, his eyes searching both banks as best he could in the dark, he realised he had no choice but to get Mike to safety and then return with more help to search for Jess. To do anything else would be foolish, and he knew Jess would want it no other way. His partner had been willing to die to save Mike, and Slim must ensure it had not been in vane.
So it was a tired and soul weary man that returned to the Sherman ranch in the early hours of the next morning. He carried the shivering form of his young ward in front of him, swathed in blankets against the cold and wet. Behind him he trailed an equally miserable pony and his lost friends horse. Throughout the dark hours of the dangerous journey his mind kept replaying the scene and the look on his friends face just before the river had carried him away. He had seen no reprimand there, only warmth for the friendship they had shared, and an unspoken request to forgive him for not being able to stick around. Slim was convinced he would never forget that moment, torturing himself by constantly questioning his own actions. Could he have done more to save his best friend? He doubted he would ever be able to answer that, just as he doubted he would ever find the voice or the words to tell Daisy and Mike that Jess was dead.
Chapter 4
As the deadly waters forged headlong towards him, Jess Harper had seen his own death carried in the raging waters. He knew he would not survive the onslaught and was equally determined that he would not be the reason for Slims death. He knew what it would mean when he released his hold on the lifeline he’d been thrown, but none the less that is what he had done. Whilst he still had the life to do it he’d shouted to Slim to get back to help Mike, and his last thought before the water hit was that he prayed he’d been heard and Slim had made it to safety.
Then the wall of water had crashed down on him, driving the air from his lungs and pulling him down into a churning hell. He fought vainly to pull upwards towards the air, but his numb arms had little strength to resist the current’s downward pull. Just as his head broke the surface and he gasped hungrily for air, the drowning man was hit hard by a mass of tree that slammed into his back and drove a cry of agony from him before he was pulled under again. Jess was trapped in the tree’s branches as it rolled over and over in the uncontrolled deluge that the river had become.
It seemed that an eternity passed before he found himself thrown up to the surface again, and his lungs sucked in greedily at the life-giving air. The respite was only mere seconds; as he struggled to free himself from the deadly branches he felt a burning agony shoot through his right side, increasing as he struggled. With one last effort Jess pulled free and felt his flesh tear on the branch. Then the tree was carried past him as he struggled to swim to shore. Blackness that was darker than the night hung on the edge of his vision, and he forced himself to remain conscious and strike out in the direction in which he thought the shore would be. His right arm refused to lift, any movement sending waves of searing pain racing up and down his side, so he used his legs and left arm to drag his tiring body through the water.
Then he was caught again as the swollen river reached the rapids, difficult at the best of times, but now a swirling whirlpool of debris. He was slammed unmercifully against the rocks, his ribs crushed between the solid boulders and the fast-moving larger pieces of sweepings. The roaring of the water changed subtly and as his right shoulder slammed against a jagged outcropping sending torturous pain through him, as he felt his body carried forward and over. For one brief moment Jess felt he was hanging in midair. Then he was falling, turning in the tumbling waters of the fall. He hit the water below with enough force to once more drive the air from his body.
He felt himself pulled under and turned till he no longer knew which way was up. Even if he had the strength or air, Jess could not pull free. The back of his head hit a rock, and his lungs burned for air and finally sucked in water. All fight had left him, and the blackness took his mind even as the river carried away his breathless body.
*****
When Slim finally arrived back at the ranch, he carried a shivering, blanket wrapped form into the main room and was greeted by Daisy Cooper and Sheriff Mort Corey.
That morning when Daisy went in to check on Mike and wake him to do his chores, she found him missing. A hurried search of the ranch and barn revealed to her that Mikes pony and saddle where missing also. It didn’t take her long to realize what had happened. Although she was very angry with the young boy pulling such a stunt, her anger was fueled by fear for his safety. Growing more agitated by the minute she was forced to wait at the ranch until their neighbor had appeared to help with the late morning stage. At once she sent him into Laramie and several hard hours’ riding had brought him back with the Sheriff in tow.
Corey had listened patiently to Daisy’s story of events and when she stated that she thought the young boy had followed Slim and Jess, he was inclined to agree. He knew that if the two young ranchers found him, he would be safe. Corey knew and respected the two men and he held them in high regard. However, in view of the worsening weather conditions he had ridden out to search the woods and canyons in the immediate area, in case Mike had not caught up with his two ‘uncles’ and was somewhere relatively close by.
After several hours fruitless searching he had returned wet and miserable to the ranch house. Although worried sick about Mike’s safety, Daisy insisted that Mort have a hot meal before setting out again. He was just discussing with Daisy the possibility that Mike was holed up somewhere with Jess and Slim, waiting out the worsening storm when the door burst open and Slim staggered in with his precious bundle.
Both occupants of the cabin momentarily stood frozen in shock at the sight before them, then Daisy was moving hurriedly forward.
“Oh, my Dear Lord! Put Mike down on the couch. Mort, get some blankets and towels from the other room please. Slim you must be frozen; there’s coffee on the stove.” Daisy spoke rapidly, and then she was all business, quickly undressing the wet cloths from the shivering boy and checking him for injuries. When she was as sure as she could be that there was no immediately life-threatening damage, she set about drying and redressing the child, all the while giving soothing re-assurances to Mike.
After having supplied Daisy with the requested items, Corey turned his attention to Slim and was alarmed to see him still standing there in the middle of the room, looking totally lost and bewildered. Mort moved to guide the dazed man to a chair, after helping him out of his wet coat. Next, he rescued a cup of hot coffee from the stove and pressed it into Slims numb hands.
“There you are boy, that’ll warm you up. Thank God, you found him. That storms a killer. Where’s Jess? You leave him back at your camp?” Mort spoke gently trying to break through to the befuddled man. At the mention of Jess’ name, Slim lifted pained eyes towards the Sheriff’s face. What Mort read there spoke volumes and sent a cold chill of fear down his spine. Both men were close to the Sheriff, but he had a real soft spot for the younger man. He knew the hard times Jess had faced in his life, including a reputation with a gun and even being wanted by the law for a while. Yet despite all that, he had turned things about and become a fine young man, a man Mort Corey would be proud to call son.
Draping a blanket around Slims shoulders, he guided the coffee cup to his lips, and encouraged the stunned man to drink, whilst keeping a tight rein on his own fears. He knew if he were too forceful Slim would withdraw completely; as it was, he appeared to be in shock. After Slim had downed the coffee, Mort tried again. “Your safe now Slim, and Daisy says Mike is doing fine. I’ll ride into town and get the Doctor to head out here to check you both over just to be sure though. Guess it was rough finding Mike out there and having to leave Jess to do the work on his own while you headed back. Where did you leave Jess, by the way?”
Daisy had finished with Mike and satisfied the exhausted boy was warm and dry, she left him sleeping whilst she came over to check on Slim. She had stood to one side waiting for Mort to finish, recognizing there was something more wrong, and Mort was trying to find out what it was. As an ex-army nurse, Daisy Cooper was very familiar with the early signs of shock and appreciated what Mort was trying to do. She knew that Jess thought of Slim and Mike as brothers and would have taken pains to travel back with them, unless something else was wrong.
“Slim, come on now boy, what happened, where’d you leave Jess? Is he holed up somewhere nice and cosy while you drew the short straw and got to make the trip back?” Mort knew that Jess was in trouble, but he didn’t know where or how. He had to get Slim focused enough to say.
Gradually the gentle voices began to penetrate the shocked numbness of Slims mind, and at the last mention of his best friend’s name, he lifted pain filled eyes to search the room. “J—Jess, h–he went, he–he was caught, —pulled under. I–I tried. Shouldn’t have l–let him.” The words came tumbling out, a meaningless jumble to the two people who stood anxiously by, trying to make sense of the statements.
Daisy caught Mort’s eye and indicated for him to move away. Kneeling down in front of the distraught man, she gathered Slims trembling hands into her own.
“Why don’t you start at the beginning dear? Tell us what happened.”
Looking deep into her eyes he saw only support and concern. He found strength in her tender hold on his hands and pulled himself together.
“It’s so hard, Daisy. I can’t believe it happened. I nearly had him, but he let go.”
“Who did, Slim. Start from when you found Mike.”
Slim glanced across at the still form of the young boy. “ How is he? Is he asleep? I don’t want him to hear this; Not yet.”
Fear closed around Daisy’s heart like a block of ice, but she kept her voice calm.
“Mike will be fine, he was exhausted, wet and frightened, but he’s young and strong. You did the right thing getting him back here. He’ll be all right now. He’s fast asleep right now; I don’t think a gunshot would wake him up. Please Slim, tells us what has happened.”
The guilt-ridden man finally took in a deep breath and letting it go slowly he began to tell his tale.
“Jess and I went down to the river after we had set up camp in that bluff canyon we found awhile back. It was dreadful there. The road was washed out the closer we got to the river. We took it real slow, and the night was coming by the time we reached what should have been the river crossing. The storm was raging up in the mountains and it looked like it was heading our way.” Slim stopped talking as his mind pictured again the swollen river that had swept his best friend away.
Desperate to know what had happened, Daisy prompted him to continue.
“We saw the storm sweeping in. I was worried for you both and terrified Mike was lost out in it. Go on Slim, what happened next?”
Focusing his eyes back on the reality of the concerned face of the woman in front of him, Slim continued with his harrowing tale.
“It was close to dark when we reached the river, and we found a calf tied back against the edge of the woods. We wouldn’t have seen it but for the mother that was fussing about it it. When we got closer, we found the mother had a rope around it to, but this one was frayed and free at the end. Jess and I decided to split up and try and find out who was catching our cattle. I headed upriver and Jess went down. I reckon we should have stayed together but—”. Slim shuddered, then pulled himself together. This was not the time for ‘what ifs’. “It wouldn’t be safe to travel in the dark, the river looked like it had burst its banks several times. By splitting up we would cover more ground. Jess and I agreed we’d only search for half an hour then meet up back at the crossing. If either of us found anything we would fire off a single shot to alert the other.”
Again the grieving man stopped talking, searching to recall the exact sequence of events that led to his friend’s death. This time it was Mort Corey who drew his mind back to painful reality.
“How did you find Mike, Slim? What happened to Jess?”
With a voice now cracked with emotion, the weary man continued.
“I’d turned back when I heard the signal, and I headed down river as fast as I could. The terrain was difficult. I saw Jess’ horse with Mike’s pony tied to it first. My heart almost stopped right then. When I found them, Jess was in the water, holding onto Mike. The river was rising fast and I could see Jess was having problems holding on against the current. I waded out as far as I could without being swept away myself and threw a rope out to Jess. I wanted to pull them both back but Jess said the undertow was too strong. He tied the rope around Mike and I pulled him into shore. I carried him up away from the river. When I turned back, the water was even higher, and Jess was treading water. I tossed the rope out again and Jess caught it first time, but he didn’t tie it round himself. I guess maybe his fingers were too numb. He held on and I started to pull him in. I had to fight for every inch, and all the branches and debris that the river was carrying were pounding Jess. Oh God, Daisy, I almost had him.” Anguished, Slim buried his head in his hands at the reality of what he must say next. “We both heard it; it was an awful booming sound. We knew that the dam must have burst higher up. I just kept hauling on that rope. I had to get him to safety. But Jess, he yelled at me to get Mike to safety. He must have seen that I wasn’t going to give up, and—, h–he just let go. He let go of the rope” Anger took him now, contorting his features. “The damn fool let go. I could have saved him, Daisy. I should have. Why did he let go like that?” Slims hands gripped the arms of the chair tightly, his knuckles white.
“It’s alright, Slim. Jess wouldn’t want to risk you or Mike. He wouldn’t want to buy his own life with yours. We know he’s too good a man for that.” Mort gripped Slims shoulder in an effort to convey some strength to the distressed man.
Recognizing his anger should be at fate not at his lost friend Slim turned tear filled eyes to Daisy Cooper. “He’s dead, Daisy. I know he is. I failed him.”
Daisy cupped his face in her hands and prevented him turning away. “No, Slim. We don’t know that for sure,” she said bravely. “Jess is strong and determined. If anyone can survive this it will be him. He’ll have fought the river, and being a strong man, he’s probably pulled himself out to safety somewhere.” She forced herself to sound hopeful, refusing to give in to the paralyzing dread inside her that Slims words had caused.
Shaking his head slowly, Slim spoke again. “Don’t you think that’s what I thought? But I looked, Daisy. I went as far as the falls. I couldn’t see him on either bank. I couldn’t climb down the falls, but if he went over them, with the river in full flood-” He left the rest unspoken. All three knew it would be impossible to survive such a fall.
As Slim’s tale had unfolded Mort Corey had felt this throat tighten in shock. Now he struggled to speak against the dry constriction. When his voice finally came out it sounded weak, even to his own ears.
“Slim, you said yourself it was dark, is it possible you missed him?”
A spark of life lit in Slim’s fear haunted eyes.
“I–I guess,” he clutched at the reprieve he’d been thrown. “It was hard to see more than a few feet ahead. I may have missed him.” Then his thoughts ran on and he gasped at the horror of what he may have done.
“Oh dear Lord, Jess may still be alive. He could be lying hurt and in pain somewhere and I’ve just left him there.” Slim struggled to stand, but was easily pushed back down by Mort.
“Whoa there, Slim. You did what you had to do, what Jess would have wanted you to do. You brought Mike back to safety.”
“B–But Jess may be lying out there alone, he could be hurt. I’ve got to get back out to him.” Slims mind was fixed on that one thought. He had to find and help Jess, and every minute could count.
Mort knew Slim was in no fit state to go off alone. Something as foolish as that could cost him his life, and wouldn’t help, Jess if he were still alive.
“Slim, I’m as worried as you about that boy, but it’s too dark and fierce out there. You wouldn’t stand a chance of finding him in that storm. You could be just a few feet away from him and ride right past. All you’d succeed in doing is getting yourself injured or worse.” Mort continued to reason, spelling his logic out for himself as well as the distraught rancher. “ You rest up. As soon as that storm eases a little I’ll ride into Laramie. I’ll send the Doc back here to check you and Mike over.”
“I’m fine. I don’t n–need” Slim started to protest, but Daisy cut him off.
“You do as Mort says, Slim. You won’t be any use to Jess if you’re sick yourself.”
Slim knew she was right. He knew he felt drained to the bone, and so tired he could barely think, but right now every fiber of his being screamed to be out searching for his lost friend and ‘brother’.
“We have to do something,” he appealed to Mort.
“We will, son, we will.” Mort placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Once the Doc pronounces you fit, you head out and meet me at the fork that leads down to the river at first light. I reckon that should give me time to get some men together to help in the search. We can’t do much before it gets light anyway. We could miss him in the dark.”
Slim nodded. “Thanks Mort. We’ve just got to find him.”
“We’ll bring him back home, boy, don’t you worry.” Mort tried to sound reassuring. He was sure that sooner or later they would find Jess. He just prayed it would be sooner and it would not be a lifeless body they brought home to rest.
Half an hour later the raging storm settled as quickly as it had flared, moving back into the brooding mountains again. Sheriff Corey donned his rain poncho and hat and prepared to leave the relay station. He was about to leave when he thought better of it and crossed to where Slim was sitting, anxiously packing saddle bags and coiling ropes for the search and rescue attempt.
“Slim?” his voice held a questioning doubt.
The tall blonde man looked up sheepishly at the sound of his name.
“I ain’t planning on heading out just yet, Mort,” he stated.
“I want your word, Slim. Tell me you ain’t going to head out after Jess on your own. You’ll rest up and wait till Doc gives you the all clear and then meet me at the fork?”
“Sure, Mort,” Slim replied, a little too easily for Mort,s liking.
Corey grasped Slims shoulders firmly, causing the younger man to look up. Mort fixed him with a steely glare. “Slim, I want your word now. You aren’t going to go anywhere unless Doc says okay, and you’ll wait for the rest of us. Think of Daisy and Mike, boy, if’n you won’t think of yourself. They can’t afford to lose both of you.”
Slowly, reluctantly, Slim nodded. He knew Mort was right, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept. “All right, Mort, you have my word. But we’d better find Jess alive Mort, we’d just better.”
“We will, Slim, with or without you. There’s a lot of folk in Laramie that think a lot of that boy, I’m willing to bet half of the men folk in town will turn out to look for him.”
Leaving that last statement ringing in Slims ears, Mort nodded briefly to Daisy and headed out. Barely a minute later they heard the rapidly fading sound of his horses hooves as he headed at a full gallop to town and help.
Chapter 5
It was bone chillingly cold, made colder by the wind that raged through the river valley. At least that wind had driven the storm clouds back across the mountain range, where they had spent the last of their fury before tearing apart to disappear. Now the first rays of a weak sun heralded the start of a storm free day.
Just as quickly as they had risen the previous night, the muddied water of the river receded back to its normal boundaries. It left a devastated landscape; rocks, mud, trees and branches lay tangled and broken on the flood plain. If you looked closely, other things could be seen, things that had once been living before the raging waters of death had claimed them. The carcasses of animals, some small and some not so small, lay torn and bloody amongst the inanimate debris. But one had to look closely to see them, their fur so matted with mud they blended in. It was the odd spot of color amongst the overall brown and gray that drew the eye, the bright red of blood or the white of what possibly was bone.
The only movement was the wind as it lifted the branches of the trees. In another moment even that stopped, as the wind stilled, the last of its energy spent. Then, with painstakingly slowness, a shape detached itself from the brown mud. The movement was so slight you could be forgiven for thinking you had imagined it.
A vaguely hand shaped glob of mud lifted and moved forward, and a head raised to gasp gratefully at the life-giving air. As the cold air hit his raw throat, Jess Harper was hit by a spasm of coughing and retching as his abused lungs sought to clear themselves of the river water. It seemed to last forever, as the near dead man struggled to take in air between the bouts of coughing. His lungs and chest burned and each new spasm sent waves of agony coursing through him.
Finally, it stopped, leaving him curled on his side, his arms wrapped protectively around his chest. Blackness threatened to engulf him again, but he fought against it. His confused mind couldn’t remember how he came to be here, but he knew he had to move if he was to live. Behind him he could hear the sounds of the rushing river water. Instinct told him he must move to higher ground, fearing the water would rise to claim him again.
Gathering what little strength he had, Jess pushed up onto his elbows. Immediately pain shot through his right arm and shoulder, and with a hoarse cry he fell back into oblivion.
When next he was pulled up from unconsciousness, his first awareness was of cold. A cold so deep it was a burning pain down in his bones. He lifted heavy dark lashes and slowly his eyes opened to half-mast. His dark pupils contracted to pinpoints, widening the blue of his eyes, as the light stabbed into his brain. He had no idea how long he had lain there, but he had a vague recollection of pain when he had last tried to move. Pain so severe that it had thrown him back into the darkness again. This time he was more cautious.
Mentally he checked out his body, assuring himself that it would be safe to move. His left side appeared unhurt. It felt battered and bruised but nothing appeared broken. He could move his left arm and leg, even if they were heavy and stiff when he tentatively did so. Jess turned his attention to his right side. A burning dull pain radiated from his side and back. When he moved his right leg, it felt much the same as the left, but as he bent it up higher, agony sheared up from his hip, across his side, chest and back. His leg dropped down again as the weakened man fought to stay conscious against the waves of pain the simple movement had caused. Slowly the agony receded again to the burning ache, and Jess released the breath he was holding in his attempt to stifle the pain.
‘Guess that’s something I won’t try again in a hurry,’ he acknowledged ruefully to himself. His memory had warned him to leave his right arm till last, and now, with extreme caution, he strained to move first the fingers and then moving upwards, the rest of the arm. As he started to lift it from the ground the mind-numbing pain hit again, racing down his arm, and body. He almost blacked out again and as he clung tenaciously to the light he could hear a hoarse screaming. Vaguely, he wondered who it was. Then it registered that it was his own scream of agony he had heard.
He lay still, waiting for the waves of nausea and pain to pass. Once his mind cleared enough to allow him to concentrate, he reached his left arm across his body to try and find the source of the pain that had now receded again to the deep burning ache that was rapidly becoming the focus of his being.
Tentatively Jess felt his upper arm. It was extremely tender and felt swollen. His fingers prodded slowly upwards and he one particularly tender spot that gave under his fingers as he pressed on it. Beyond a doubt it was broken and an obvious source of the pain he was experiencing. His searching hand moved on across his shoulder and he stifled a gasp of pain and shock as his fingers touched a jagged edge of protruding bone. Things weren’t looking good he admitted to himself as he added a broken collarbone to his list of injuries.
Steeling himself against more gruesome discoveries he moved his left arm over further still to touch his right side and stomach. His fingers found ripped fabric and something more. A sticky wetness was on his fingers and he brought his hand in front of his face to look at it. His head was swimming and his eyes refused to focus, but he could see enough to discern the redness of fresh blood. Raising his throbbing head, Jess tried to see the extent of the damage but he was unable to tell how far the gash extended or how deep it was. But it was still bleeding and he had nothing with which to stem the flow.
Another wave of nausea hit him and his head fell backwards to the ground, causing him to flinch. Hot knives lanced through his skull and he lifted his one good arm to feel behind his left ear. His fingers found an egg sized lump surrounded by matted hair, no doubt caked in dry blood. ‘Oh well. At least that seemed to have stopped bleeding’ he thought philosophically.
Each breath was hard won and brought with it more pain so he added probable broken ribs to his inventory. He should be afraid, but he was past fear now and his mind was detached from his body, as he almost clinically noted that he was more dead than alive and he would soon be dead if he lay where he was much longer. He knew he needed to move, to find help, but he couldn’t find the will to do it. As long as he lay still the pain was manageable, barely. But any movement sent him into agony that threatened to send him tumbling into oblivion. He couldn’t risk that either. He struggled to think clearly against the fog in his brain, as the cold seeped through his body. If he didn’t move soon, he wouldn’t be able to move permanently.
Slowly and with infinite care, Jess eased his left arm out of his jacket. Maneuvering slowly, his jaw clenched tight against the pain, he wangled it round and off his right arm. The effort exhausted him and he fell back against the ground, gasping for breath. After a few minutes he rallied again. Fumbling with the near numb fingers of his left hand he released the buckle on his gun belt and struggled to pull it free of his body. Fighting the pain to stay conscious, he failed to notice his gun as it finally fell free of the holster, having survived the river by some miracle. Jess needed the gun belt right now. He knew that he had to at least slow the bleeding from his right side if he was going to survive. He also reasoned that he needed to immobilize his useless right arm. With teeth gritted against the pain, Jess repeated the performance to remove his belt as well and managed to attach the two belts together.
With his last remaining strength, the exhausted man folded the jacket into a crude pad that he wedged against his right side and chest. Reaching over he took hold of his right forearm, and despite the bolts of agony that movement caused, he pulled it into his side, resting it across his lower ribs. Later he would not be able to recall how he did it, but somehow he wrapped the belt around his lower chest and arm. Then he pulled them in tight, fixing the makeshift pressure bandage between his right arm and side and effectively immobilizing his broken arm. Finally fastening it off, he gave in to the whispering darkness and sank gratefully into the painless depths of unconsciousness.
The sun had been up long enough to bake the ground hard again when Jess next awakened. His heavy lashes fluttered and slowly he opened his eyes to look around. The brighter light sent stabbing knives through his brain, but still he fought to see. Memory of the last awakening came flooding back, along with flashes of his time in the river. His cloths had dried on him and where now stiff and stuck against his skin. Stuck with what, he didn’t want to know. Raising his head he could see some trees up ahead and reasoned that now he was in danger of sunstroke and needed to get to their shade. Slowly, inch by painful inch the befuddled man dragged himself along on his left side. Every foot gained cost him dearly, as his water clogged lungs and stomach sent him into retching fits. After what seemed like an eternity he reached the trees and collapsed onto the grass, unable to do more.
Never a patient man, Tom Brading pushed through the cabin door, sending the door crashing back against the wall. Startled by the loud noise, the two smaller men at the table looked up.
“Why n’ hell ain’t you got ‘em horses down to the river to water yet, ya lazy good for nuthin—.” If Toms bulky stature didn’t intimidate you, his voice could send a shiver of fear through a lot of men that would normally consider themselves strong. Three steps carried him to the table, and then he grabbed the shirtfront on the smaller man sitting there, lifting him bodily from the chair. “Those nags may be the only thing that keeps us out of the law’s hands after the job. They need to be in good condition. I ain’t telling you again. Get em down to the river and then stake em out over by some fresh pasture. An’ make sure ya cover up their trail after ya.” He practically flung the other man at the door.
Relived to escape without further injury, Samuel Brading practically ran outside.
Tom occupied the seat he had just forced his younger brother to vacate. His eyes roamed the small room restlessly, searching for a distraction from the boredom the waiting was causing. He wasn’t a thinking man and was never happy without some new person to intimidate, or some town to shoot up. His fingers drummed an incessant rhythm on the table, finally causing the other occupant of the room to look up at him.
“What the hell you looking at?” he snarled at the weasel faced man who remained idly shuffling a worn deck of cards.
“Nothin’ much. You give any more thought as to how we’re going to get close enough to the payroll shipment to stand a chance of getting the strongbox away from the stage guards?” The sneer on his face matched the sarcasm in his voice. Mace Stoddard had no fear of the giant man who sat beside him. He was gifted with a quick mind and an equally quick gun, and he used both of them to great effect in procuring the things he wanted.
He paid little attention to the brutal way the elder of the Brading brothers mistreated the younger one. In fact, he found it a mild diversion given the sadistically sick streak he had. As long as the two served their purpose, which was currently to aide him in securing the stage line payroll, he cared little for their relationship. All he needed them for was to provide the brute strength he did not possess, once his goal was achieved they were expendable.
Tom wasn’t exactly bright in the thinking department. He couldn’t see why they shouldn’t just ride down the stagecoach and board it and he was quick to say so.
“Goin’ straight in is a sure way to git yourself killed, and no guarantee the stage would stop. It’ll likely be guarded and it won’t slow down for nothing carrying that payload. I done told you this already. There ain’t no place on the Laramie Road that we could block the trail and lay an ambush. We gotta find a way to get one of us on that coach or at the relay station” Stoddard kept his voice low and neutral, not betraying the irritation he felt at yet again having to explain his reasoning to the man.
“Deal me a hand,” Brading demanded irritably. He was reluctant to challenge the other man further, like most bullies Tom was basically a coward. He was well aware of the others deadly speed and accuracy with a gun, He was also aware that the other man killed mercilessly, without any regrets or moral concerns. He’d do like he was told until after the payroll was theirs and then—. Well Mace couldn’t stay awake all the time. In the meantime, he worked out his frustrations in other ways. Speaking of which, ‘Where is that shiftless brother of mine’ he thought, before picking up the cards from the table and appraising his hand.
At that very moment, his younger brother Sam was hurrying to do as his older sibling had instructed. His big brother was always yelling at him and pushing him around. It was nothing new and he was used to it by now. After a while even the pain from the beatings his older brother gave him ‘for his own good’ faded and became acceptable. The young man knew no other life than that which he had with his brother. There had been three of them until the eldest was shot and caught in Abilene on a bank job they pulled. He’d been sentenced to twenty years hard labor and that was the last he had seen of his eldest brother.
Jake Brading had been the oldest and cleverest of the Brading brothers. He had also been the strongest but hadn’t had the downright mean streak that Tom had. He had kept Tom under control and had stopped him bullying the youngest. Oh, he hadn’t been a saint, none of the Brading family could come close to qualifying as decent folk, but he had had a soft spot for the youngest and kept him under his wing.
His mind distracted by thoughts of his brothers, Sam kept his eyes fixed on the debris-strewn ground as he led the three horses down to the now receded river. He let the horses dip their heads to drink their fill as he squatted down on his haunches. Dully he picked up stones and threw them into the water, counting how many times he could get them to skip across the now placid river.
When he ran out of suitable stones within his immediate field of vision, he began to look around, searching for more. The sun reflecting off something metallic caught his eye. Ground tying the horses he picked his way carefully across the debris in the direction of the object. For a minute he lost sight of his goal and then a stray shaft of light bounced of it again and he saw it more clearly. Reaching down he brushed off the leaves and mud to uncover the treasure.
“A gun,” he said aloud. “But how’d it get here?” Turning it in his hands he noticed its finely balanced weight and polished barrel. It was obviously well looked after, so he doubted it had simply been thrown away. He pulled out his own old battered gun and compared the two. The new gun was an expensive model, the type carried by someone who knew about quality in a gun and the value of looking after your weapon.
He pulled his bandana off and began to strip and clean it whilst the horses grazed. Finally he was finished and he checked the barrel was clear of mud. He was pretty sure it would shoot, but he dare not try it. That would only bring his brother and that other one down to the river. Sam feared the weasel faced man more than his burly brother. If they found the gun it would earn him a beating and loose him the treasure.
Carefully he wrapped the find in his bandana and slipped it into the back of his trousers, lifting his shirt over it. Then, mindful that he had probably been away long enough he rose to go back.
Something else caught his eye and he froze. Smeared on a large piece of tree deposited by the river was a smudge of near black blood. He bent and ran his fingers over it, lifting his hand towards his face to inspect his red smeared fingers. The thought that the guns owner may well be close by and was probably hurt crossed his mind. ‘Perhaps the owner is dead’ he thought worriedly, not wishing to find himself face to face with someone accusing him of stealing the weapon. “But then, where is the body.” That last thought stung him into action.
He began a slow search of the area near where he had picked up the gun, and soon he picked out the trail left by something or someone, as it appeared that a body was dragged away from the water’s edge. As he continued to look, he found more blood. ‘Whoever was dragged through here must have been hurt bad, ’ he considered his options carefully. ‘From the look of all this blood, he’s most likely dead by now,’ Sam sought to reassure himself.
A soft nicker from one of the mounts he’d brought to the water brought his thought back to the business in hand. He was supposed to get the horses watered and then return to the shack, making sure he covered all evidence of the trail he’d used to get to and from the river. Sam wasn’t stupid, but years of submission and bullying by his brothers had made him slow to action. He thought things through carefully before doing anything. He liked to be sure that he left no opening for his brother to use as an excuse to attack him again. It was this slowness to respond that made most people think he was simple. He’d learnt this was a good survival tactic, so he’d done nothing to discourage the idea.
Now he was thinking on the marks by the river and the trail that led away. Whether the maker of the trail was dead or not, someone may come looking for that person and in following the trail, the searchers may come close to the Brading’s hideout. Making a decision, Sam led the horses a hundred yards back up the way they had come, then returned to the riverbank and used leafy branches to obliterate the trail left by their hooves.
He returned to the place where he had found the pistol, taking care to wipe out his own boot prints. With great care he used river mud to rub the evidence of the blood away. Once satisfied that the spot looked no different than the rest of the debris strewn bank, he proceeded to use the leafy branch to destroy the obvious trail left by whoever had dragged themselves away from the river.
Walking backwards over the trail to ensure he swept it and his own boot prints away, he cast occasional looks behind to ensure he was safe, but in his haste he failed to keep a close eye on the ground behind him. So it was that his boot came down heavily on something that gave slightly before it was pulled away with a weakened cry of pain. Sam went flying backwards and hit the ground hard enough to stun him for a few seconds.
It had shocked him so much that the weak cry failed to register straight away. He sat up rubbing his head and swearing loudly. “God damn that hurt! What the hell did I trip over?” As if in answer to his question a low moan came from nearby, and Sam twisted round to find himself inches away from the curled-up form of Jess Harper.
The fevered man was barely conscious, even the painful impact of Sam’s boot had failed to rouse him though the pain of the contact had penetrated his foggy mind.
Surprisingly gently, Sam rolled the stranger over onto its back. He noted the arm strapped tightly to Jess’ side, and the sticky pool of blood where he had lain. Lifting his hand away from Jess, Sam saw that his fingers where red, the life fluid continuing to seep slowly from a wound in the stranger’s side.
Despite the life he had led with his brothers, Sam was not a cruel man by nature. As a boy he had managed to keep several pets, usually wild animals he had found hurt. He had healed their wounds and fed them, taming them to his touch. He had learnt early on that he needed to keep the animals hidden from his cruel elder brother. At best he was tormented over his ‘soft’ streak, at worst his brother would wantonly kill the creature, laughing as Sam begged him to let the animal go.
Now, his natural instinct to help an animal in pain came into play, no matter that this time it was a full-grown man that needed his help. Sam was certain he had found the owner of the gun, but he was not about to hand the weapon back, not in the least sure that this man might turn the weapon on him, even as weak as he appeared to be.
Looking anxiously around, Sam noted that they were very vulnerable here. The others might notice his prolonged absence and come looking for him. Not that his older brother would be concerned for him, but the horses were an altogether different matter. If they found the two of them, Sam would likely receive a beating for his efforts and a well-placed bullet would summarily dispose of the unknown man. ‘Not that that will make much difference to the outcome,” Sam thought. “You don’t look too good my friend. I need to get you somewhere safe and then I can check you over.”
Sam hurried back to the horses and separated his own from the bunch. His mount was the gentlest of the three, responsive to Sam’s sympathetic nature and sensing no harm in him. Taking care to hide the tracks, but this time, for the safety of the injured man, he led the horse over to where Jess lay.
“All right, friend, I’m gonna try and help you, but first we gotta get you some place safe.” As he spoke he knelt down by the unconscious Jess and eased an arm behind his shoulders. As Sam’s hand touched Jess’ broken shoulder pain shot through him, penetrating his mind and dragging him back to reality. A scream of agony was ripped from him, but what escaped his lips was a hoarse strangled sound.
His eyelids fluttered partly open and two blue slits appeared as Jess forced himself to focus past the pain. He licked dry lips and tried to speak again, producing only a squeak.
“Wait, I’ll be right back,” Sam instructed. He went to his horse and retrieved his canteen that he had filled at the river. Uncapping it he knelt next to the sick man. Mindful of his shoulder this time, Sam gently lifted Jess’ head and pressed the mouth of the canteen to his dry lips, tipping it slightly to allow the moisture to dribble in. “Here, drink this. Slowly though, don’t want you throwing it all back again.”
On reflex, Jess swallowed as his mouth filled with the life-giving water. He was so thirsty; he couldn’t remember the last time he had had a drink. He began to suck greedily on the mouth of the canteen, only to find it snatched away. Deprived, he forced his eyes wider, searching out who had snatched the water away from him. About to protest it’s removal; a soft voice penetrated his muddled brain.
“Easy now. You can have some more in a minute. I know it’s good, but it won’t help you if you throw it all back up.”
Jess’ eyes finally managed to focus on the source of the voice. He saw the young man who hovered over him and took in the old and new bruising on his face. A hundred questions hit his mind at once. Who was this boy helping him? How did he get here? How did he come to be hurt? For that matter, where the hell was he? Had they been attacked, and was that why they both appeared to be injured?
Again he tried to speak and push himself up on his left arm. “Who are—? Aaaaah!”
He fell back down, his question unfinished as the pain from his injured side and shoulder and the knives in his head threatened to plunge him back into unconsciousness’.
“Don’t worry about all that right now. All you need to know is you’re safe and I’m gonna take care of you. Look we’ve got to get you to shelter, I’m sorry, but that means I’ve got to get you mounted.” Sam wasn’t sure how he was going to accomplish this, but he had to get the man undercover and away from prying eyes.
He knew of a cave nearby, a retreat he had used when escaping from his bullying brother. It wasn’t far but it was too far for him to carry the man and it was obvious he wasn’t going to be able to walk it, even with Sam helping to support him.
Struggling to breathe against the waves of pain still threatening to engulf him, Jess tried to make sense of the voice. He knew the man wanted him to do something, and it was apparent from the worry in the voice it was important. Slowly Jess forced his breathing to deepen and slow and then he focused again on the face close to him.
“I’m gonna get you up on my horse, but your gonna have to help a little,” Sam repeated slowly, seeing understanding form in the pain clouded blue eyes. “Can you do that?”
“Reckon,” was forced from Jess’ lips, then he broke into a coughing fit, retching up yet more river water from his clogged lungs.
Sam waited for the retching and coughing to settle, then he put Jess’ good arm around his own shoulders and as carefully as he could he lifted Jess to his feet. It was a struggle, and Sam knew he was hurting Jess as he hissed sharply through clenched teeth when Sam was forced to hold him around his waist and put pressure on his right side.
Jess did his best to help, weak as he was, but Sam found himself taking most of the lean man’s weight, despite this. After what seemed an eternity to both men, Jess was finally mounted, He was barely conscious, and beads of moisture formed on his forehead and ran down his face and neck. His skin appeared pale and clammy apart from two fever bright spots burning on his cheeks.
As smoothly and as carefully as he could, Sam led the horse and rider back into the trees, heading up the gentle slope toward the cave. Each sway of the horse, as careful as Sam was, sent waves of agony through the semi-conscious rider. Jess wanted to just let go of reality totally and let the blackness carry him away, but the pain in his arm and side kept refusing to let him go.
A low moan escaped Jess’ tightly clamped jaw as the ground sloped slightly and the horse had to fight to keep its feet. Sam looked worriedly up at his charge and saw the whiteness of Jess’ knuckles as he gripped the pommel, fighting desperately to stay in the saddle. Realizing the harm that falling from the horse could do to the injured man, Sam swung himself up behind him. He wrapped his arms around Jess’ waist and gently pulled him back to lean against him, taking care not to cause further injury or pain.
No longer needing to stay conscious in the saddle, Jess’ battered body gave way to exhaustion and he slipped into the beckoning blackness, his head falling forward onto his chest. Keeping Jess’ inert body safe against him, Sam urged the horse forward at a faster walk.
About fifteen minutes later, Sam saw the shrub covered cliff face where he knew the hidden opening to the cave was located. Without hesitation he rode directly to it. The place had often been his retreat when his bullying brother was too much to bear, and he went unerringly to it. Anyone else looking in the area would not find it; it was so well hidden by bushes.
Reining the horse in he came to a stop and slid off the back of the animal. He turned to help the wounded man down and was barely able to catch him before he hit the ground as he toppled senseless from the mount. Sam half carried, half dragged the unconscious Jess into the shallow cave. Propping the inert form up against the rock wall he returned to the horse and removed his blanket and canteen.
When he entered the cave again the man on the floor was just beginning to rouse. Sam placed the water next to Jess and placed his hand on the canteen. Foggy blue eyes opened to half mast and a weak voice croaked,” W–Where are w–we?”
“You’re safe for now. Look mister, I gotta go. The water’s there,” Sam prodded the hand on the flask. “I’ll be back. I promise.” Sam was beginning to panic now. He had been away far longer than he should. He didn’t know if the man he had found would survive, but he did know for certain that if his two companions found him, they wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet in his brain.
Careful not to cause further pain to the pale figure, Sam tucked the blanket around him, in an attempt to give some protection against the dampness in the cave.
The gentle movement further roused Jess, and his mind struggled to form one last question. “T—Thanks. W–who ar–are y–you?”
“Names Sam, Mister” Then the young man added as an afterthought,” I can’t just keep callin’ ya Mister. You got a name too?”
Opening his mouth to answer, the color drained away totally from the already pale face of the young rancher.
“I–I’m —. “ He pushed up weakly onto his one good arm, at the same time trying to grab frantically onto Sam. Panic and fear passed across his face and stayed in his eyes as they locked onto Sam’s. “ I—d–don’t kn–know. Oh G—God. I d–don’t —know.”
Terrified eyes pleaded with Sam to give him the answer he needed, but Sam couldn’t help. Finally, exhaustion claimed the dark-haired man and his grip on Sam’s arm loosened as he fell back to the ground and unconsciousness claimed him again.
Sam replaced the blanket around the still form; he spoke softly, although he knew he could not be heard. “Rest easy, Mister. I’ll be back and then we’ll try and figure something out.” Then the youngest Brading brother retreated from the cave, once more covering his tracks as he went back to the other horses and headed back to the shack that was his home for the time being.
Chapter 6
The night had not been an easy one for the occupants of the Sherman ranch house. A very worried Daisy Cooper had tried to keep the pain and fear at bay by tending to Mike. The Doctor had arrived in the pre-dawn hours and checked Mike over and after a thorough examination he gave his opinion to the anxious man and woman who had hovered over him the whole time.
“He’s young and strong. Apart from a few bruises and a nasty chill, he should be fine in a few days. Keep him warm and quiet and be sure to let me know if he develops any new ailments.”
“Thank you, Doctor. Is there anything else?” Daisy asked.
“No. He’s a real lucky boy.” Turning to Slim he continued in a hushed tone, “If you hadn’t got him wrapped up and back here as quickly as you did, it would have been an entirely different story. It’s a bad combination, you know. Wet and cold, it lowers the body’s temperature too much and that can kill even a fit person.”
Although grateful to hear Mike would be fine, a grimace of worry crossed Slims face as he thought on the Doctors last words. If Jess had survived the river, then that’s exactly how he would be right now, and Slim had left him out there. Slim was gripped by a sudden urgency to be on his way to start the search. Picking up his coat and hat he turned to the door.
“Then if he’s going to be fine, I’ll leave him to you Daisy, you’re the best nurse there is. I’ve gotta get going.”
Although Daisy was just as anxious about her other ‘son’ as Sherman, she was not going to let Slim go off quite yet. She remembered Mort’s specific instructions.
“Slim Sherman, you get back here right now.” When Daisy used that tone of voice only a fool would disobey her.
Slim may have been beside himself with worry but he wasn’t a fool. Meekly he removed his hat and turned back to face the irate housekeeper. His eyes where clouded and downcast as he kept them fixed somewhere near his feet. He knew if he looked her straight in the eyes and saw his own loss reflected there, he just might lose the tight control he had kept on his warring emotions.
Instead, he said softly “Daisy I done what you and Mort wanted. I’ve waited till the Doc got here and checked Mike out. It’ll be dawn in an hour or so. It will be better if I get a head start.” He finally looked up, straight into a very worried pair of eyes.
“Daisy, I’ll just go mad waiting here. Now I know Mikes gonna be alright I have to get out there and start looking for Jess.”
The housekeeper cum surrogate mother was overwrought and very near to breaking down herself. She had been about to give Slim a dressing down for going out before daylight, but when she saw the pain in his eyes she relented.
“I do understand, Slim, I really do,” she said gently. “ If I could be out there searching with you I would be, but Mike needs me here. Slim, just let the Doctor take a look at you.” She saw the objection in his face before he even started to reply and hastened on with her argument. “Please Slim. You won’t be any use to Jess if you are sick. If he gives you the okay you can be on your way and you won’t hear another thing from me. It will only take a minute”.
Reluctantly, Slim gave in to her reasoned argument and sat down. “All right Daisy, you win. Doc, do what you have to do, but make it quick. I got a friend to bring home”.
The Doctor, who had stood quietly to one side during the discussion now moved forward and began to check Slim over. For the sake of modesty Daisy left the room, only to return barely five minutes later when the doctor gave the all clear.
Recognizing that nothing was going to stop a determined Slim Sherman from heading out now, Daisy handed him a very full gunny sack. Slim took it from her, and feeling the weight looked quizzically at her.
“WHEN you find Jess, he may be cold and wet” the fact Daisy emphasized the ‘when’ was not lost on the worried man, “I’ve packed some cloths and extra blankets. There’s some food and some medical supplies in there as well. Doctor Davidson has put in a few things that might be useful when you find him. Just in case.”
Slim patted her hand affectionately. What he wanted was to find his friend alive and well back at their camp. He pictured a very fed up Jess laying into him about not getting back sooner. In reality he knew that would not be the case. He also knew that given what he saw if he found Jess he would likely be injured. The best he could hope for was that he would not need to use very much of the supplies the good doctor had donated. He would not allow himself to consider the third alternative.
“Thanks Daisy. Hopefully, we’ll both be back here by tonight, and you can fuss over us both to your hearts content.” Slim grabbed his hat and coat and headed out the door. “Take care of Mike and explain things to him without worrying him to much,” he stated, his eyes flickering briefly to the child’s still sleeping form.
Not noticing that she was doing it, Daisy was twisting her apron skirt through her hands, but she held her voice steady, trying not to betray her fears. “Take care Slim, and just you bring that fool of a boy back here so I can scold him good and proper.”
The door shut behind the retreating blond as he headed straight to the stable and the waiting horses. Barely five minutes later Daisy heard the sound of fading hooves as Slim headed down the Laramie Road, trailing Jesse’s horse behind him.
Despite the dangers of traveling the road in the dark, Slim needed to feel he was moving toward his goal. So he pushed forward faster than safety would dictate. He felt he had wasted enough valuable time already. Jess could be out there someplace, hurting, and every minute could make a difference. Reason told him he would arrive at the appointed meeting place too soon, and he knew he couldn’t search the area alone and be successful. But he had held back long enough and he really needed to feel he was doing something positive right now. When he stopped moving, he started thinking, and he couldn’t bear the fears those thoughts carried.
The eastern skyline was just beginning to show streaks of purple and pink as a damp and subdued dawn began. Slim pulled his horse to a stop at the crossroads and forced himself to wait. He had made a promise to Mort and Daisy and he would at least try and keep it. As he sat watching the watery sun fight back the night, his mind, unbidden turned back to the scene when Jess was swept away. How could anyone survive that raging tempest? Slims heart and soul, needed to believe his best friend and partner would be found safe and sound. His traitorous mind kept telling him otherwise.
Over and over again he heard Jess’s voice ordering him to leave him and get Mike to safety. His own cry of denial as the waters swept down kept ringing in his ears, and his last view of Jess’s face before the flood hit fixed itself firmly in his mind, Jess’s pleading eyes burning into his brain. Maybe it would have been easier to accept if he had seen anger shining in those deep blue eyes, but that had not been the case. All he had seen there was clear message to Slim not to feel guilty, that and strangely, a look that begged forgiveness. Just what it was that Slim was supposed to forgive he couldn’t fathom. If anything it was Slim who needed forgiveness. He kept asking, no telling, himself that he should have been able to do more to save his best friend, his brother.
A deep rumbling sound brought Slim’s tormented mind back to the present. He turned in the direction of the sound, towards Laramie. In the growing light he saw a large group of riders, coming in at a fast pace. The lead rider reigned in, bringing his horse close to Slims.
“Had a feeling you’d be here ahead of time.” Sheriff Corey leveled his penetrating gaze at the determined rancher, not missing a single sign of the worry he was dealing with. “ I guess I should be more surprised that you waited here for us.”
Looking over Mort’s shoulder, Slims eyes widened when he saw the many men that were waiting for the Sheriffs orders to ride out. Mort noticed the question in Slims eyes and explained.
“When I asked for volunteers to help search for a missing rancher, I got more than I could handle when the folks knew it was Jess Harper that we where searching for. I had to send half of em back to their beds. Too many men and horses out there, and we may end up destroying more tracks than we find. Besides,” he continued, “ If this takes longer than we hope it will, we’ve got some men in reserve. We can search in relays and can keep it up for days if we have to.”
“I hope that won’t be needed Mort,” replied Slim, more than a little stunned at the number of concerned friends Jess had. But then, when he thought of all the things the once homeless drifter had done to help the town and its people, maybe he shouldn’t have been so shocked. Jess had been accepted by the good folk of Laramie over the time he had been at the Sherman ranch, impressing even the most reluctant among its citizens with his honesty and willingness to stand up for what he thought was right.
“We will find him Slim and bring him home.” Corey stated with conviction.
“I won’t stop looking till I find him, Mort. I just hope we ain’t too late. I want to bring him back where he belongs. I just hope I’m not going to bring him back to bury him.” Slim had kept his eyes fixed to the ground as he said the last sentence. Then he shook his mind clear of the fear and focused on the here and now. He couldn’t afford to think like that if Jess was to stand a chance of surviving. Lifting his head, he raised his voice and called to the assembled men. “ Lets, ride.”
He dug in his heels and urged his horse down the river road, with the search party following close behind.
The search party rode faster than the road conditions would dictate, but not a man among them let the risks slow them down. Jess held a special place in the hearts of a lot of people in Laramie, though the man concerned never knew it. Acting in what was to him a totally natural way, the one-time gunman and drifter had earned the trust and gained the respect of the citizens of the town. His honesty and willingness to support the underdog had proven itself time and time again, and now they were going to pay back the courageous young rancher. They were going to find him, and, God willing, bring him back home alive and well.
The journey that had taken them till practically noon the previous day was cut in half by the determined men. As they approached the mouth of the small canyon where he and Jess had set up a small camp, Slim called the group to a halt. Whilst logic told the tall man that it was not a possibility; he felt he must search the area in case Jess had made it back there. If he were relatively unhurt, it would be the sensible place to head, since there where a few supplies and dry wood stored there. He imagined finding a smiling Jess, he heard once again his familiar laughter when he upbraided him for taking so long. Slim wouldn’t mind the joshing if it meant his ‘brother’ was all right.
It didn’t take long to search the small area. Nothing had been disturbed since Slim and Jess had left it the previous day. It was obvious no one had been there. He had been foolish to even think that was a possibility, given what he had seen at the river. Slim was about to mount up and lead the search party down to the place on the river where he had lost his friend, when Mort Corey called him back.
“Slim, hold up, Boy. We gotta do this right.” Mort saw Slim was about to object to the delay, but he continued to reason with him. “It ain’t gonna help Jess none if we have to give up the search early cause the men are exhausted.”
The Sheriff turned in his saddle and addressed two of the older men. “Josh, you and Morgan there, stay here and get us a shelter built. Gather some more wood and get a fire going and some food. The men are going to need to take breaks and eat to keep up their strength. No telling how long this is going to take.”
The sharp look that Slim threw at him told him Slim didn’t appreciate the thought that it may take that long to find his best friend. It didn’t escape anyone’s notice that the longer it took to find Jess, the less likely it was that they would find him alive. Mort saw the look and softened his previous statement as he continued.
“When we find that boy, and we will, he’s going to be cold, wet and hungry at the very least. We’ll need somewhere to tend him before we start home.”
Slim couldn’t fault that logic. If he hadn’t been so torn up with worry, he’d have done the same thing himself. Leaving two of the party behind to make a suitable camp to bring Jess back to, the rest of the men headed out to the river crossing.
Once they got to the ford, the devastation caused by the flooding was everywhere. Although the river had gone down pretty much to its original levels, pools of stagnant water and mudslides made the banks treacherous. It was obvious to everyone that the search was going to be slow. Debris littered the land for twenty yards or more away from either bank. They were going to have to pick their way around trees, boulders and carcasses of the animals that had been unfortunate enough to be caught by the rushing water when the higher dams gave way.
As the unpleasant memories hit Slim again, he found his ears ringing with the sound of his own cry as he’d seen his best friend swept away. It was a few seconds before he rallied enough to answer Mort.
Realizing that Slim was lost to him for a second, the Sheriff patiently repeated his question. “Think you can take us to the spot where you last saw Jess, Son?” Mort chose his words carefully, not wishing to make Slim’s pain worse, if that were even possible.
Nodding Slim urged his horse down river with the others following. How could he possibly forget that place? It was burned into his brain just as the horrific memory was.
Picking their way carefully around the obstacles, the others followed Slim, coming to a stop behind him when Slim came to a halt. For a moment words deserted the young rancher, so he merely inclined his head towards the place, nodding mutely.
Recognizing the man’s distress, Mort took control again. “Jackson, you cross to the other side, and head upriver, and Peters can you do the same on this side? I know it ain’t likely, but everything’s a mess hereabouts, and it would be easy to get turned around. I’d hate to miss finding Jess because we started looking too low down.” The two men nodded their assent. Devlin, can you, your brother and Matt cross over too but head down stream. Slim and I will take this side.” As the men moved to obey, Mort spoke again. “Keep your eyes peeled and be careful, all of you, we don’t want to be losing anymore good men.” Seeing the distress that statement caused to Slim, he almost wished he could take the words back. Instead, he urged his horse closer to Slim’s and said,” Come on Slim, you feeling guilty isn’t going to help Jess none. Let’s get going.”
Once the men had crossed over, they all headed off in the different directions allocated to them. Both Slim and Mort dismounted and led their horses forward. Eyes down they scanned the ground around them, ranging down to the shore. Nothing escaped their intense scrutiny, but despite that, nothing was seen that could remotely point to Jess’ presence nearby. The men on the opposite bank shouted across to Slim and Mort that they had found nothing, other than mud and debris.
After an hour of slowly scouring the shore, Mort decided they needed to spread further out. He reasoned that the river had been higher when Jess had been caught, and he may well have gotten out up to twenty feet or more away from the land that now formed the river’s edge. So moving further up the bank, they all backtracked over the ground again.
Slim was finding the whole thing frustrating. He was sure that Jess had been swept over the falls, and although he wished it wasn’t so, he could remember every moment of that dreadful afternoon. Exasperated by their lack of success, he finally spoke up. “Mort, we’ve got to try lower down, past the falls.”
“Why Slim? “Mort started to ask, then realization of what the statement meant dawned on him. “Lord, boy, are you telling me Jess went over the falls?” Mort felt his stomach tie in knots as the reluctant answer came.
“I can’t be sure Mort. It was difficult to see, but well, I kept telling myself that he couldn’t have gone over, I couldn’t have seen what I thought. We ain’t found any sign of him here, Mort. Maybe what I tried to tell myself was an animal snared in a tree branch was Jess.” Swallowing hard, Slim Sherman finally gave voice to the fear he had been hiding since the search began “I keep telling myself I didn’t see him go over, Mort, but I did. We’ve got to search below the falls,” he forced out through a tightly clenched jaw.
The sheriff easily saw the emotional cost to Slim of saying that out loud. Reaching up he gave Slim’s shoulder a firm squeeze. “All right son, but we’re going to need ropes to climb down there. We’ll head back to the camp, have a strong coffee and get the gear we’ll need to make the descent.”
The young rancher wanted to object to the delay, but he knew they would need the ropes to negotiate the climb safely. He also knew that although he couldn’t stomach anything right now, it was now nearly noon and the others would need to eat and drink if they were to keep up the search for a long time. Reluctantly he turned his horse and followed Cory back to the place where the road met the river ford. Two of the others where already waiting for them there. Their worried faces confirming their words as they indicated they had found no trace of the missing man.
Over the next few minutes, the rest of the search party returned to join them. As each pair reported in, the news remained bleak. There had been no sign of Jess, only debris and devastation. Given the carnage they had all seen, each man was secretly thinking that no one could have entered the river and lived. No one would voice that thought however, because to say it would make it real, and not a one of them wanted to abandon the young man they had come to admire.
The group followed Mort’s lead back up to the camp, where they found hot coffee, trail biscuits and beans waiting for them. Whilst the others ate and rested, Slim wandered around the camp. He could not settle, so he collected the ropes they would need and checked and re-checked the horses. He also packed a backpack with medical supplies, no longer trying to fool himself into believing he would find his best friend unhurt.
Watching the restless man over the rim of his mug, Mort Corey shook his head gently. ‘That boy is tearing himself up’ he thought “If we don’t find Jess, he’s likely to fall apart.’ Standing, Mort headed to the fire and collected a fresh mug of hot brew. Crossing to where Slim stood, checking his horses saddle for the fourth time, he placed a re-assuring hand on the man’s shoulder. As Slim turned towards him, Mort thrust the mug towards his hands.
“You aren’t helping anyone, least of all Jess by neglecting yourself, Slim.” The man in question started to argue back, but Mort held up his hand. “ I don’t want to hear any excuses, Slim. Mike and Daisy are back at the ranch and they’re going to need you over the weeks ahead. And Jess, when we find him, is likely to be needing your help for a while.” Mort saw the pain in Slims eyes, but he continued speaking. As much as it caused Slim pain he needed to hear what Corey had to say. “Jess loves his family Slim, and that is how he thinks of you all. He did what he did for all your sakes, and wherever he is right now, he wont regret anything. When he let go of that rope he was saving you, Mike and Daisy. He wouldn’t want you blaming yourself. Hell, he’d likely stand there, with that stubborn look on his face, and tell you to stop being a goddamn fool. Now you ain’t going to be stupid and let that boy down are you?”
Slim lifted his eyes to meet his older friends; his hands were tight fists at his side as he struggled to bring his emotions under control before he spoke. “I know you’re right Mort but knowing it and accepting it are two different things. About the only thing that’s going to help right now is finding Jess alive.”
With an ease that belied the tension in his strong frame, Slim swung himself up into the saddle. “I’m heading out to the falls, Mort. You can follow on when you’re ready, if you’ve a mind to.”
“Tarnation, boy, you’re going to get us all killed with that impatience of yours.” Seeing that his comment had made no impression on Slim, the Sheriff tossed the remains of his coffee on the ground and headed toward his own horse, muttering under his breath “God damn young idiot, he’s sounding more like Jess every day.”
Aloud he called to the rest of the men. “Josh, Morgan, you two head out on the search, and I want you on the other side of the river. You’re going to need ropes to climb down the cliff. We’re going to search below the falls. Jed, you and Chris take a break and stay here. Just make sure you’ve got something ready for supper when we head back. Oh, and see if you can gather more firewood,” Mort added as an afterthought. Then he turned and spoke to the rest of the men. “You others come with me. When we reach the falls, you can take our horses and sweep around inland to meet us with them. I’m too old to be trying to climb back up again.”
Moving quickly to catch up with the lawman, the rest of the search party hastily finished up and mounted their horses, urging them on in the direction of the falls.
*****
Several hard hours later the disheartened group returned to camp as darkness settled in. Corey had needed to threaten to hog tie a stubborn Slim Sherman in order to get him to give up the search for the night. As the men, weary in mind, body and soul, moved around the camp, eating a small supper and settling to get what rest they could, Mort found himself thinking back over the afternoon’s events.
He and Slim had taken the south bank of the river and the climb down the cliff face to the base of the falls had proven difficult. He remembered looking down from on top of the falls before starting the decent. The thought that no one could survive a fall down into the churning waters below had sprung instantly to the forefront of his mind. Even if you fell lucky enough to avoid being smashed to pieces on the sharp rocks, it would only be to drown in the powerful undertow that he could see, as the waterfall hit the pool below. He had looked across at Slim and seen the same knowledge written there, but, wisely, neither man had voiced the thought.
The climb down was hard on him, so heaven knew what it was like for Slim. In his mind, despite his efforts not to think about it, he kept picturing reaching the bottom, to find the smashed and torn body of Jess waiting for them. Then they were at the bottom, and they could find nothing that would indicate he had been carried over the falls.
Both sets of men on either side of the falls scoured the ground moving gradually away from the river and higher up the banks. Still nothing to indicate that Jess may have been there was found. It was impossible to ignore the torn and smashed carcasses of the unfortunate animals that had been caught in the flash flooding, however. They were seen frequently amongst the rocks and debris at the base of the waterfall.
All Slim and Mort could think of was to thank God Jess’s body wasn’t amongst them and yet Slim remained convinced that his best friend had indeed been swept over. He wanted to believe he hadn’t seen it, but the memory remained distinct, and the more he thought on it, the clearer his mind became.
By late afternoon, the rest of the men had joined them. These had taken the longer inland route to skirt around the cliffs and come up on the falls from lower down. They brought with them the mounts of the two teams of men that had climbed down the cliffs in order to start the search earlier, ensuring a good length of daylight in which to search.
The air was turning cold and a relentless drizzle had set in again, soaking their outer cloths and causing them to lose heat rapidly. Mort Corey was beginning to feel that they would find nothing here and was about to call all the men back in, ready to return to camp, when a shout from Morgan drew his instant attention.
“Hey, I think I’ve got something!” Morgan was shouting even as he waded out into the muddy waters.
On the other side of the stream, Slim and Mort watched anxiously as Morgan bent to pull something from deep within a tangle of branches that where caught against a circle of rocks, pushed in there by the strong currents caused by the falls. When he straightened up, he held a black sad shape that may once have been a hat. In the dull gray light of the wet afternoon it was difficult to make it out clearly from the other bank of the river.
“It’s a Stetson. Did Jess have his hat when he got caught up?” Morgan shouted across.
Every detail of his friend in those few fateful seconds before the flood hit where firmly etched onto his brain. Slim knew that Jess’s hat had been hanging behind him. Swept from his head in the buffeting waters, the necktie had kept it in place hanging down his back. The look in Slim’s eyes told Mort all he needed to know. He also knew that Jess Harper only had one working hat, and that was a black Stetson, but he had to be sure, so the sheriff asked, “What color is it, Morgan?”
“Black, and it’s got a small hole near the top. Looks like a bullet may have nicked it sometime,” came the shouted response.
Slim’s eyes widened and the knot in his stomach twisted up even tighter. He felt the strength drain from his body but he forced himself to stay upright. Mort turned to look searchingly at Sherman. The blond man’s cadaverous paler face was answer enough, but still the sheriff found himself asking the inevitable question.
“Does it look like Jess’s hat, Slim? I know it’s kinda hard to see it from here—”.
Shaking his head, Slims voice was barely audible as he replied. “Don’t have to see it Mort. I was with Jess when the bullet nicked his hat. It was during that hassle we had with Kingstone trying to force the smaller ranchers out. He just missed getting an extra part in his hair when he pushed me out of the way of a bullet. It’s gotta be his hat, ain’t likely that many others would fit that description.”
Slims voice failed him and he turned away, his shoulders drooped. Mort placed a comforting hand on his back, again offering him his strength. “Wait till we get back to camp before you say for sure. You’ll get a proper look at it there.” Mort was as certain as Slim that it was Jess’s hat, but he didn’t want to accept it either. He tried to offer some comfort, some hope to cling to. “We can’t get much done now, with the twilight settling in. We’ll head back to camp and start afresh in the morning.”
The rain had returned earlier and now it was becoming heavier, threatening to become a downpour. The finding of the hat had darkened the mood of the group even farther than their previous failure to find evidence of Jess near the river. The Sheriff turned from the dejected Slim and issued orders for the men on both sides of the river to head back and re-group at the canyon campsite. As the wet and weary men moved to comply, Mort collected his and Slims horse and walked them back to the river where the disheartened young rancher stood, staring at the maelstrom below the falls.
Standing silently by Slims side, Corey waited patiently for Slim to gather his scattered emotions before speaking. It was Sherman that broke the silence first.
“He went over for sure Mort. I kept trying to deny what I saw, but that hat confirms it. He went over the falls, Mort, ain’t no use fooling myself anymore. Jess is dead. No-one could survive that.” Slim inclined his head towards the falls, a lost child look on his face.
Mort could not fault his reasoning, but still he sought to offer comfort. “The hat may have been swept away in the river Slim. It doesn’t have to mean Jess went over too. He’s a strong man, he may have made it out.”
“Thanks for trying, Mort. But you and I both know that isn’t what happened.” Slim had been holding his own hat in his hands, turning it automatically through his fingers as he studied the water. In his own mind he had been saying a last farewell to his best friend and brother. Now he placed that hat on his head, pulling it down over his eyes to shade them from the rain, and to hide the tears forming there.
He mounted up and listlessly moved off after the other men. There was no urgency now. He had accepted the inevitability of Jess’ death. Yes, he would return to search again, but in his heart, he now accepted that it would be a lifeless body he was searching for. The best he could hope for now was to bring Jess home to lay to rest next to Slims own parents. Jess would appreciate that, and after all, he had become part of Slims family long ago.
Chapter 7
Taking the horses as fast as he dared over the mud distorted ground, Sam headed back to the cabin where his elder brother would no doubt be waiting. In the brief fifteen minute ride he had been trying to think of what to say when Tom laid into him, and he knew without at doubt that that would happen.
He had also been trying to work out a way to get the things he would need to help the injured man he had found. Food and bandages came high on the list, along with splints for the broken arm and medicines for the retching and fever. He could fashion the splints from tree branches, so they wouldn’t be a problem. Medical supplies were another issue all together. It would be difficult, but he would find a way to sneak some food out, and he could use some of the old sheets that a previous owner had left at the cabin. Washed and torn into strips, they were far from ideal but they would have to suffice. There where no medical supplies at the cabin, and Sam couldn’t foresee his brother or his partner letting him into town any time soon.
Whiskey, however, was a possibility. The two older outlaws had ensured that rotgut whiskey was the one thing in plentiful supply at the cabin. The only problem would be sneaking it away from the place without arousing the suspicions of the others. They both knew he didn’t drink and that he weren’t too happy about them doing so either. His brother got even meaner when he was drunk, and Sam was usually the belligerent man’s target.
As he arrived back at the small cabin, Sam could hear the two men inside as they gambled with each other, the stakes being the imagined takings when they stole the payroll from the Laramie stage. From the sound of the raised voices and coarse comments he could tell that the pair had started drinking already. As quietly as he could, Sam led the horses around to the back of the cabin and into a small ramshackle barn that was set back into the woods. He started to rub down each animal with the dry straw from the bedding there, all the while working on his plan to get back to the sick and injured man he had left back up in the cave.
Bending to pick up more straw, he felt a hard metal edge dig into his spine and as he straightened up, he reached around and pulled out the gun he had so carefully hidden in the waistband of his britches. In the rush of the day’s events, he had forgotten about his find. He found himself fascinated by the weapon as he turned it over in his hand feeling its weight and balance. It was a fighting man’s weapon all right. He admired the metal that had obviously been well cleaned and oiled, a sure sign that the owner respected his gun.
With interest, he noted that the polished wooden handle carried no notches but two letters were burned into the wood.
J.H.
Sam’s mind went back to the man he had left in the cave; he hoped he would be still alive when he got back. The stranger hadn’t looked too good when he had left, but Sam had little choice. If he had stayed away, his brother would have come looking for him and found the two of them for sure. There would be no question of the stranger’s fate then.
Sam stared hard at the lettering on the wood. He was pretty certain that the six-shooter belonged to the man back at the cave, so logically the letters had to represent his name. The man had been confused and feverish when Sam left, unable to put a name to himself. ‘That was probably fever,’ Sam thought, ‘Maybe, by the time I get back he’ll know who he is. That’s if he’s alive.’
Pulling his mind back from thoughts of the injured man, he turned the gun in his hands, unable to tone down his admiration. Sam was so absorbed in this that it proved to be his undoing. He didn’t hear his brother as he entered the shed and came up behind him. Suddenly his precious find was grabbed from his hands and Tom’s leering face was thrust forward only inches from his.
“What have you here?” the elder Brading sneered. “Been keeping something from me, boy?”
The sudden appearance of his bullying brother had stunned Sam and he took a hesitant step backwards. Tom’s fist snaked out and grabbed the frightened boy’s shirtfront. He hauled him back, shouting. “Well, answer me, boy. Cat got your tongue.” Frustrated and drunk, the elder Brading was seeking the usual outlet for his inadequacies, his brother.
Finally finding his voice, Sam managed to stammer out his reply. “I–I found it.”
“No one loses a fine gun like this one. Where’d you steal it from?” Tom didn’t care in the least if his brother had stolen it. In fact, the act would have lifted Sam considerably in his esteem. He just didn’t want Mace laying into him about attracting undue attention.
“D–down by t–the river. I g—guess someone l–lost it in the f–flooding.” Sam replied truthfully.
Tom inspected the gun and noted the mud still visible in the barrel. He looked hard into his brother’s eyes, knowing Sam wouldn’t dare lie to him. With a snort of disgust, he pushed Sam back, causing him to fall heavily into the hay. “Guess you’re telling the truth at that. You ain’t got the brains to lie.” Tom started to look over the gun, ignoring his younger brother at his feet.
Sam looked up at his brother towering above him, wishing he had the strength and courage to stand up to the bully. Instead, he moved further back into the straw, aiming to move out of his brother’s reach. It was a mistake as the movement drew Tom’s attention back to him.
“Where do you think your crawling off to? You bin gone long ‘nuff.” His voice now held the distinct slur of too much alcohol. “Git back into the cabin and git us some dinner, boy, you got chores to do.” He kicked out at Sam, who hastily scrambled to his feet, managing to avoid the poorly aimed boot.
Without a backward glance Sam headed for the cabin to get a meal under way. At least that way he would avoid his belligerent brother and the threatened beating that so often followed one of the elder Brading’s drinking bouts.
Back in the cabin, Sam worked at putting together the makings of an edible meal. He was not exactly a good cook, but over the years he had managed to learn some basic cooking, enough at least to satisfy the appetite of his brother. When he had entered the shack, he had seen that Mace and Tom had indeed been drinking, and a good amount at that. Two empty whiskey bottles sat discarded on the floor and a third was half empty on the table. The other man had ignored Sam as he set about preparing the meal. His eyes had a heavy-lidded look that told of nearly drinking himself into oblivion.
As he finished off the basic meal of biscuits and beans, a plan began to form in Sam’s mind. If he could just get the two men to drink a little more, there was a good chance of both of them falling into a drunken sleep. Then Sam just might be able to escape back to the cave and see if he could do anything for the sick occupant without his brother missing him.
A loud crash made him jump; almost dropping the plates he had been about to put on the table. Turning toward the door he saw his older brother half charge and half fall through the door.
“Where are ya, ya good for nuthin? Ain’t my meal ready yet?”
“I’m almost done.” Sam stammered and watched out of the corner of his eye as his older brother pulled the gun from out the back of his belt. Tom studied it closely, forcing his bleary eyes to focus on the handle and the neat lettering burned into it.
“What’s that you got?” Mace questioned and thrust out his hand in a demand for the object.
“Caught that piece of scum with it in sss–stables,” Tom slurred as he begrudgingly handed his prize over. “Says he found it by rrr-ri–river. Likely assss not someone lossst it in fffloodsss.”
“It’s a fine piece, well oiled. You sure there was no one nearby?” Mace threw this last question at Sam, daring him to lie.
“Y—yes, Sir, er, that is no, Sir, weren’t no one around. It was just lyin’ in among the flood debris.” Sam hoped he sounded convincing. He had never been a good liar. Fortunately for him, the two men where too lost to the whiskey to hear the catch in his voice.
Mace turned the weapon over, continuing to study it. “It’s a gunman’s weapon,” he stated. “Laramie’s the nearest town. Most likely someone traveling that way got caught up in the floods. Probably lost it there.” He looked like he was about to hand it back when the initials caught his eye. “J. H. mean anything to you?”
“I knew a dirty no-good fella once. He was a fast gun fer hire. We tried to get him to throw in with us on a job.” Tom’s face was a mask of rage and disgust, his mind momentarily clear as memories enraged him.. “Jess Harper he called hisself. Thought he was too good fer the likes of us and told us not to do the job. Jusst cause theres sssome women round. Threatened to go to the local law. We tried to take him out, but he got away. Next thing posse is waitin’ fer us on edge off town. Thatsss how Jake got took. Dirty low down musta given us away. One day I’ll ffffind—-” Toms voice petered out, his drink sodden mind lost in thoughts of what he would do if he ever ran into Jess Harper again. It wasn’t that he was overly found of Jake. He was always bossing him and stopping his fun, but things hadn’t gone right since Jake was taken and besides, no one crossed a Brading and got away with it.
Sam had been listening to all this as he finished preparing the meal. He hadn’t been with his older brothers when they had had their run in with this Harper fellow, but he’d heard his brother describe in detail just what he was going to do to him if he should cross trails with him again.
Irately, Tom reached out and took the weapon back. “Anyways this here is mine now, unless ya care to dispute it.”
For a brief moment Mace was tempted to do just that but he was not so far gone that he didn’t recognize that he still needed Tom Brading to help in the robbery. There’d be time enough to get rid of the Brading brothers afterwards, so he held his tongue.
Recognizing that he had won a small victory, Tom turned his attention back to his brother. “Where’s me grub?”
“Here,” Sam forced out, placing the two plates on the table and nervously stepping back out of reach.
“Bout time ya did sumin’ right.” Tom fell into the chair and unceremoniously started shoveling beans into his mouth. He cared little that half of each forkful was falling straight back out again.
Although pretty far gone himself, Mace considered himself somewhat above his current partner and held to some manners. He picked up his fork and pulled his plate towards him. Before he set to it, he looked up and caught Sam staring at him.
“What you looking at. Trying to learn some manners from your betters are you.” He smirked at Tom, amused at his own humor.
“N–no.” Sam stammered, then gathering up his courage in both hands he snatched up the whiskey bottle. “T–Thought you both might want a drink to wash it down with,” he offered. For a moment he thought Mace might have been suspicious, as he looked up at him through narrowed eyes. He held his breath, waiting for the blow he thought would fall any second.
Instead, his brother reached out and shoved his empty glass in Sam’s face. “First sensible thing ya said all day. Gotta figure ya got some brain somewhere. Yer a Brading so ya caint be totally stupid.” Once more the glass was thrust toward his face. This time Sam took it and filled it up to the brim, before placing it back on the table in front of his brother.
Raising his eyes, he dared to risk looking at Mace. He let out his breath softly as Mace lifted his glass too. Dutifully he filled it up then retreated to a stool in the corner to eat his own meal. He ate quietly, all the while watching the pair at the table. Every time a glass was emptied, he rose quietly and filled it up. The two drunks failed to notice that the third bottle was emptied and another miraculously appeared to replace it.
As the simple meal was finished, Sam cleared away the debris, all the while taking care to keep the glasses topped off. By this point the two men were so far gone, they no longer recalled the finishing of one drink to the start of another. By the time Sam had finished collecting the plates, Tom’s head was nodding.
Cautiously Sam headed to the door.
Mace was still able to focus and glared across at him. “Wher’in the Hell you goin?” he slurred out.
“Out to the trough to clean the plates,” he stated honestly. Despite what his bullying brother thought of him, he was not stupid. He did not intend to head back to the cave till he was absolutely sure both men were out cold.
“Gerron with it, then,” Mace spat out as he staggered up and stumbled towards one of the makeshift bunks set against one of the walls. “An get them horses settled fer t’ night before ya dissper—“ His voice faded out as he sank back onto the bunk.
“Yes, Sir” Sam responded as he headed out the door.
He took his time cleaning the plates, and once he had the horses settled in the barn with more fresh hay, he saddled his own horse up and rolled up two of the old horse blankets he’d found at the back of the makeshift stable when they had first arrived there. He had already decided what he would say if the two men at the shack found his horse saddled. They knew he loved the animals so they would accept that he was taking it out to exercise. In fact, he may even suggest he do the same for their mounts, keeping them fit ready for getting away after the robbery.
The robbery another thing that didn’t sit well with the young man. Despite the family environment he had grown up in, he had a natural honest streak and robbing the stage just wasn’t honest. No matter that his brother said the Stage line owners had grown fat off the sweat of poorer folk, it just didn’t seem right.
Estimating that at least fifteen minutes had passed, Sam decided he had to risk going back inside the cabin; some of the supplies he needed where in there. As quietly as he could, he opened the door and stepped inside. He needn’t have worried. Mace was flat on his back, one leg hanging over the edge of the bunk. Loud snores signaled he was deep in sleep. His snores were accompanied by deeper grunts from the unconscious Tom Brading at the table. His head rested on his arms which were draped across the table. His eyes where tightly closed and his mouth open, revealing a row of rotten teeth.
Swallowing hard, Sam eased past his brother and reached down by the side of the bed. He had stuffed some sheets stuffed down behind the bunk. They were not ideal but they would have to do. Their saving grace being that he was pretty certain the other two men didn’t know about them and so they wouldn’t be missed.
Pulling them free, he rolled them up quickly and turned to head to the stove. As he stepped across, he kicked over one of the empty whiskey bottles the two drunks had discarded earlier. Tom froze as it banged down and rolled noisily under the bed. He held his breath, waiting for one or both of the two men to wake up. The good lord must have been smiling on him that day as the chorus of snores continued uninterrupted.
Letting his breath out in a soft hiss, he moved hastily across to the stove and retrieved the two hard biscuits and the can of beans he had secreted earlier when he had prepared the dinner. Also hidden with them was the bottle of whiskey he would need to clean up the stranger’s wounds. Sam would have liked to take two, one for the cleaning and one to get the hurt man good and drunk. Sam had looked after sick animals and horses often. On occasion he had had to patch up one of his siblings. He knew he was going to have to hurt the wounded man in order to help him. He’d like to hope he would be unconscious, but the second whiskey bottle would have helped in achieving that aim.
Unfortunately, the rest of the supply of whisky was dangerously close to his uncouth brother’s legs, besides, his brother may accept one bottle unaccounted for, but two would arouse his suspicions. There was now only one more thing he needed. It was in his saddlebags by the door. Tom knew he dare not take his bags. If his brother awoke and saw they were missing he was bound to come looking for him.
No, he would just take the small sewing kit he kept inside. At first, he had carried it as a small memento of his mother. The only thing he had to remind himself of the gentlewoman who had died when he was seven. She had been his father’s second wife, and his older brothers where his half-brothers in reality. The life his father had forced the reserved woman to lead had eventually caused her death. She had always been frail and sickly, but she had lavished her love on him. His father and brothers said he took after her, that he was soft and stupid like her. What they really meant was that he didn’t have their killer streak, and just like they had with his mother, they mistreated him for his gentleness.
Now he carried it to help with the doctoring he did. The sharp needles and some of the thicker threads had been used to close up many a nasty wound, and even Tom had cause to be thankful that Sam had kept the thing. He lifted it carefully out of his saddlebags and was about to go when a glint of light caught his eye. Reaching back in he pulled out his small pocketknife and put it in his pocket just in case.
He straightened up and stood for a moment, mentally checking off if he had everything he was likely to need, for he didn’t want to risk coming back in before he had finished his doctoring. If his two companions woke up, he might not be able to get away from them for a while. He glanced across at his own gun belt hanging by the door and the old but functioning gun that it held. The beautiful precision instrument he had found earlier was stuck in the back of his brother’s waistband. It would be foolhardy to try and retrieve it. Instead, he took his own gun and shoved it in the waistband of his pants, stuffing a hand full of bullets in his pocket. He left his gun belt hanging in full view, hoping his belligerent brother would not notice the missing weapon when he woke up.
Finally, he was ready. Holding his prizes securely he slipped quietly out the door without a backward glance. He collected his saddled horse and was about to leave when he remembered that the cave was relatively dark. He would need a light of some sort. Sam hesitated, not wanting to risk entering the cabin again. Then he remembered the old oil lamp that he’d found in a corner of the old barn that housed the horses. He went quickly to fetch it and the matches he had left with it in case of emergencies.
Satisfied at last that he had everything he would need, given the circumstances, he picked up his horses reins again and led him a good distance from the shack. He even took the time to dust out the tracks for a while, as an additional protection should his brother wake up and come looking for him. He wasn’t worried for himself. He was used to the beatings and had learned long ago to hide himself away from the pain, his spirit escaping from the harshness of reality in a safe place his brother couldn’t reach.
He was afraid for the man he had left in the cave, afraid he may be too late to help him, but also afraid that if he was too hasty and made a mistake, he would be discovered and the injured man found and killed by the two men he had left asleep.
Judging that the tracks where well-hidden and he was far enough away that the noise of the horses hooves would not be heard, he mounted up and set of at a fast gallop toward the hidden cave in the foothills and a man who needed his help desperately.
Chapter 8
Riding as fast as he dared, since the rain had started falling again, Sam reached the hidden entrance to the cave twenty minutes after he had left the cabin. Ensuring that he hid his mount from view a short distance away, he once more took the time to brush out his tracks for a hundred yards in each direction. Beside himself with worry, he wanted to rush in to the man he had rescued, but he knew he needed to be cautious. His efforts would be wasted if he were found out.
At the cave entrance he straightened up and tossed the branch he’d used away. Holding his bundle of supplies securely, he moved into the darkness, stopping just inside to allow his eyes to adjust to the dimmer light. A few brief seconds later he could see the shape of the man, lying deathly still on the ground at the back of the cave. His first thought was that his efforts had been in vain, he had arrived back too late to help, but then a low moan rose from the huddled shape and an arm moved feebly as Jess struggled to turn toward the mouth of the cave.
Jess had lain unconscious most of the time since he had lapsed into the mercifully blackness just before Sam had left. But the relentless pain and cold had finally dragged him back to an unwelcome reality about twenty minutes before Sam’s arrival. His sluggish mind had not recalled the how and the why of his current situation, and he had tried to move, only to be stopped by a lance of agony down his entire right side. Struggling to regain control of his faltering breathing and bring the pain down to a level that would allow him to think, he had forced himself to lay still and tried to remember how he had come to be in this fix.
After what had felt like an eternity but he knew could only have been a few minutes, the pain had dropped to a mere burning ache, and as long as he didn’t move he found he could keep his breathing under reasonable control. Jess had become aware that his left hand was resting on something and had managed to lift up the canteen and take a drink. The cool water had felt good to his dry parched throat, but when he had taken a second swallow it had triggered a bout of dry heaves and coughing, almost sending him spinning back into oblivion again.
When the lights before his eyes and the roaring in his ears settled again, he recalled a face. A young man who had helped him, ‘Helped him from where? Oh Yeah, the river’. He remembered the roar of water, the feeling of trying to find air and breathing in water, blinding pain like none he could recall before and then nothing. Until someone was bending over him, giving him water and urging him onto a horse. ‘Whose horse?’ He couldn’t recall having a horse, only the deadly river. ‘How had he come to be in the river?’ He couldn’t remember that either.’ Why couldn’t he remember?’
Jess’ head felt like a herd of wild horses were trying to kick their way out of his skull. Perhaps it was the pain that was making it so difficult to recall anything. He lifted his one working hand carefully to his head and winced as his fingers touched a lump at the base of his skull just at the hairline. He pulled his hand away at the pain his probing fingers set flaring and looked at his sticky fingertips. They looked like they had blood on them. His blood. ‘Guess that’s why your heads throbbin’ and you keep trying to bring everything you ever ate back up again. A bad knock on the head will do that to a man,’ he admitted to himself.
So how’d he get from the river to the cave? Given how he felt, Jess reasoned that he wouldn’t have been able to get himself here. He must have had help. Once more the face of the young man swam into his mind, and he recalled the ride to the cave, slipping in and out of the blackness, but being held securely in the man’s arms. He’d been half carried and half dragged into this cave. ‘But where was his rescuer now? Perhaps he’d gone for help. That must be it,’ Jess thought.
Every attempt to raise himself upright was met with wave after wave of pain sweeping through his abused body, threatening to plunge him back into unconsciousness. Confused, alone and unable to move, Jess realized he needed to stay awake. He had no recollection of anything before the river took him and his muddled mind refused to give up even such a simple thing as his name. He could be anything from a rancher to a murderer, although he didn’t feel like a killer. But, Hell, what would he know? The only thing that remained a certainty to him was that someone had brought him here. Someone had cared enough to place a blanket over him and leave him a canteen of water. Who that person was became yet another mystery to him.
A stone scuffing against a rock roused him from a near stupor and he turned toward the cave entrance. All he saw was a silhouette against the evening sun, and his right hand moved instinctively to his gun. Even as he realized it wasn’t there, the agony that simple the movement caused him made him cry out. The hoarse dry croak that emerged sounded strange to his own ears, but it drew the figure at the cave entrance hurriedly toward him.
“Easy, now. Don’t move,” Sam soothed as he approached the sick man. He was both pleased and surprised to find him alive. Dropping to one knee beside him, he gently lifted the dark-haired man’s head and pressed the mouth of the whisky bottle to his lips, urging him to drink. “Here, this should help with the pain a little.”
The raw alcohol burned its way down Jess’ throat and he had to stop himself from gagging on it. He kept it down however, and he felt the warm glow of it start to spread through his chest. He raised confused blue eyes to the face of his rescuer and a name tugged at his memory.
“S–Sam?” This was spoken so softly the other had to bend closer to hear what was being said. Jess tried again, his voice a little stronger as the whisky eased his throat.
“Sam?” His eyes struggled to focus on the face hovering above him, attempting to fit the face to the name in the forefront of his mind.
“Easy now. I hear you. You need to save your strength.” Sam eased him gently back down again. “Lie still, I need to check you over, see what damage has been done.”
A slight smile tugged the corners of Jess’ mouth briefly upwards as the weak reply came back. “ S–sure. M–might b–be b–better—–” here a gasp broke through, as Jess once more struggled to control the pain even the simple act of breathing brought. A second and he swallowed hard before continuing. “R—reckon be b–better che—check what isn’t b–broken.”
“Maybe, but right now you just lie real still and tell me when it hurts.” Despite the seriousness of the situation Sam found himself admiring the character of his charge. Someone who could try to make light of his pain in such a situation had to be someone worth knowing.
He set down his supplies and lit the storm lamp, setting it close by on a rock. Its soft yellow light flooded the area around the two men. Sam’s eyes adjusted quickly, having just come into the darkness, but the pain in Jess’ head flared again as the light hit his eyes, He shut them tightly against the glare, his eyes having adjusted to the darkness of the cave during the time he was awake.
“I’m sorry, but I need the light to check you over. Here.” Sam took his bandana and laid it across Jess’ eyes. “Does that help?”
“Yeah, s–some. Didn’t m–mean to c–complain. S—sorry” A smile could be seen playing at the corners of the strangers’ mouth, and Sam found his admiration growing.
Sam’s fingers gently, but firmly, began to trace their way over the battered body in front of him. He found that by some miracle, apart from a few bruises and cuts the dark-haired stranger’s left arm and leg had escaped unhurt. As his probing fingers felt around the back of Jess’ head, Jess drew in his breath sharply and tried to turn away. Sam spoke gently again. “Sorry. But you’ve a lump the size of a chicken’s egg there. Feels like the skins cut up to.”
‘Now for the hard part’ thought Sam. He offered his patient another swallow of whisky, but Jess made a weak effort to push the bottle away. Despite the escape the bottle offered, he needed to stay awake. There was something that he needed to ask, something very important, but the pain and the fever were making it hard for him to bring the thought into clarity.
Knowing what he needed to do would be extremely painful for the man, Sam batted the weakly flailing hand away and once more pushed the bottle to Jess’ lips.
“Mister, yer hurt bad on your right side. I can see that just by looking. I gotta see what damage ya done, and put it all back together. I’ll be as gentle as I can, but it ain’t gonna be easy on ya. The whisky will help take the edge off.”
Thick dark lashes fluttered as the fever glazed blue eyes sought to focus again. It hurt to find the breath to speak, but Jess needed to get this off his chest before he could give in to the threatening darkness. “R—reckon, b–but need—– need to know w–what h–happened?”
Realizing that he would get no co-operation in what was already going to be a difficult process, unless he settled his patients mind, Sam tried to give him as honest an answer as he could under the circumstances. “You must have been caught in the flash floods that hit here last night. From the look of you and where I found you, I think you were swept over the falls. You’re lucky to be alive.”
Sam lifted the whisky bottle up again and urged the young rancher to drink. This time the offer was accepted and Jess felt the strong fluid pass down his throat, once more causing him to cough and retch at its assault on his stomach.
“Sorry, mister, it ain’t the best, but it’s gonna be better than nothing.” Sam lifted the bottle for a third time, but the dark head turned away, lips pressed firmly shut. “Ya ain,t helping yourself, mister. Quit being so stubborn and drink.”
With a low moan, Jess turned toward him again, and the hurt and need Sam saw there tore him up.
“Know a-about river. Can’t re—remember before. Y–you must know—- know what h–happened. M–must know m–me?” The last words held a desperate appeal.
Sam was torn between telling the truth and the need to settle the turmoil he saw in those deep blue eyes that held his gaze. He remembered the gun and the initials and decided that it probably was this mans. He had no idea who he was but it was painfully obvious this man needed to know his name. Sam was aware that despite his best efforts he may not be able to save the injured rancher and as he looked into his face he could read the fear there. Oh, he knew it wasn’t a fear of imminent death, but a fear of dying not knowing himself, where he belonged, his own name. It took Sam only a few seconds to make his decision.
“Yeah. I have seen ya around in Laramie. Folks called ya Jess, I think.” Sam could see the eyes cloud over as the man tried to recall the name.
The heavy eyelids dropped and Sam thought Jess had slipped into unconsciousness. He moved to prepare a small fire but those blue eyes shot open again. “ Jess.” The voice was barely a whisper as the injured man sounded out the name. “ It’s—-sounds fa—-familiar. D—don’t know for s—sure, b-but—-?” The question was left hanging in the air, and Sam knew that the man desperately wanted more.
Sam was committed to the lie now. It seemed to have helped settle his patient a little. His brother would never find out anyway and this man needed to have an identity. For a second, the youngest Brading tried to imagine how it would feel to lose ones identity. To not know where you belonged, who you could trust. It was not a pleasant feeling.
With a soft sigh, Sam committed himself to the rest of the lie. “Yeah, your Jess Harper. I recall now someone in town pointing you out. You’ve got a reputation as a fast gun. Never met you in person though till now, so I don’t know anything else. Someone in town’s bound to know you though, but that can wait till I got you fixed up.”
The fever-glazed eyes clouded in thought as Jess tried to fix memories to the name. Somehow there was a familiar ring to it, but try as he might, no other clear thought associated itself with the name. Acknowledging that for now there was nothing more to be gained by perusing the issue, Jess’ head bobbed briefly in acceptance of what had been said. “Guess th–there’s —no p–point fighting a–any —long –longer.” He reached over and took a weak hold on the whiskey bottle, needing its pain dulling effect.
Sam helped Jess hold it while he took several large swallows, then he pulled it away, apologizing as he did so. “Sorry, Mister Harper. I’m gonna need the rest to clean up those wounds of yours.”
The dark head bobbed in acceptance, then “ Jess, just Jess,” was rasped out softly. Sam could hear a slight slurring to the words, and he was unsure if it was the fever or the whisky. He hoped it was the whisky doing its work. He would need Jess as detached as possible during the next few hours. He had only seen a brief glimpse of Jess’ right shoulder and side, but it had been enough to tell him it wouldn’t be an easy job.
He touched his hand to Jess’s forehead and felt the heat there, confirming what he already knew. Infection had set in and was driving the fever upwards as Jess’s body tried and failed to fight it off. ‘Yep’ thought Sam, ‘It’s gonna be a long hard night.’
Out loud he spoke to re-assure the sick rancher. “I’m going to get a fire going. Take the chill out of the cave. I’ll be right back.” With that Sam got up and moved to the very back of the cave where he had stored some dry wood on a previous visit to the cave.
At one point he had toyed with the idea of running away from his brother and hiding out here until he was sure his brother had given up on him and left. He had figured that wouldn’t have taken long, as far as his brother was concerned, Sam was next to useless. Somehow the opportunity had never presented itself, or maybe, he admitted to himself, he had never reached that point were his courage outweighed his fear enough to make him break away.
Soon the fire was burning brightly, Sam having been careful to place it so that the back draft of air through a small hole in the roof at the back carried the smoke away. He could hear Jess wheezing as he struggled to breath and Sam was pretty certain that was due to the water that must have gotten into his lungs while he was in the river. He certainly didn’t need a lung full of smoke to add to his difficulties.
Using a small pot that Sam had also stored at the cave, he collected fresh water from a mountain brook that ran just outside. He placed it over the fire and carefully put his pocketknife and his dead mothers darning needle into the water. The boiling water would clean them up enough that Sam could avoid the likely hood of introducing more infection.
Glancing over at the still form on the floor of the cave, Sam noted with concern the fever red spots on Jess’ cheeks and that Jess seemed to have fallen into oblivion again. ‘At least that’s good’ he thought to himself, ‘Given what I’m gonna have to do, it’ll be easier on both of us if he’s unconscious.’ Sam began to tear the sheets he had brought with him into strips, making them ready to act as bandages. He removed the instruments, such as they where, from the water and lay them on a strip of cloth close to Jess. Almost reluctantly, he knelt down at Jess’ right side.
Belatedly he realized that the collarbone that had broken through the skin was entangled in the fabric of the shirt, and both the shirt and under garment needed to come off before anything could be done. As gently as he could, Sam eased Jess’ shirt and Henley off his left arm and pulled them underneath him, raising his body slightly. Apart from a low moan, Jess remained lost to reality. Slowly, and taking care not to snag on the exposed bone or jar the right arm at all Sam next eased the shirt off Jess’ right arm. He did the same for the torn under clothing, being extra careful as he eased it over the unconscious mans head.
That done he rocked back on his heels and surveyed the damage. A low whistle escaped his pursed lips. It was even worse than he had suspected. ‘Well, guess there’s nothing for it but to get started. This isn’t gonna fix itself.’
His decision made, he reached for the protruding bone and using a wad of sheeting, pressed down on it with one hand while pulling the shoulder away from the body. With a sickening crunch, the broken ends slipped back into place, the jagged ends locking against each other. The dark head had tossed and a soft moan had been uttered, but fortunately Sam’s patient, though not totally free from the pain, had stayed unconscious.
With deft fingers Sam sewed the torn skin shut, having first poured a liberal dose of the cleansing whisky into the wound. It was at that point that Jess roused himself enough to weakly grab at his shoulder with his left hand, but Sam had easily held the weak arm away. As Jess settled again Sam placed the wad of cloth against the sealed wound and tied it firmly in place.
Next his searching fingers confirmed what his eyes had told him. Though obviously broken, Jess’ upper arm still seemed perfectly aligned. All he would need to do was splint it. Taking his knife, he headed outside the cave, only to return a few minutes later with four branches, trimmed and cut to roughly the same length. Crouching back down again, he was surprised to see two blue slits focused on him.
“You’re awake?” he said this as half statement and half question.
“I r–reckon. Kinda w–wish I wasn’t though.” Jess’ gaze was focused on the knife and the wood Sam held.
“Just try and relax. This shouldn’t be too bad. Your arms broke, but it ain’t displaced. I’m gonna fix it so it can’t be moved. Should feel a helluv a lot better then.” Sam watched as the dark head bobbed in acknowledgement, but no words came. For Jess the effort of keeping his breathing even was proving too much, let alone trying to find the air to say more.
As smoothly as he could, Sam eased the battered arm away from Jess’ side, where he had strapped it with his gun belt in what seemed an eternity ago. He placed the branches around Jess’ upper arm, tying them in place as firmly as he could with strips of the sheeting.
Jess’ jaw was clenched tight against the pain of the movement. He was determined not to cry out, knowing that would distress the young man who was trying to care for him. Finally, Sam lay the bound arm down gently on the ground, and Jess let the air out of his lungs in a soft hiss. “Thanksss” he mumbled. “You’re doing a g—good job, I—‘preciate i—it.”
With forced humor, Sam kept his voice light as he replied. “Ain’t much difference to doctoring you and the hurt animals I’ve taken care of.”
A smile flitted briefly across Jess’ pale features before the lines of pain replaced it again. Sam continued in a less humorous tone, “I sure hope your still feelin’ grateful when I’m finished. I’m sorry but your side looks to be tore up bad and it’s most likely infected.”
A flash of memory jarred Jess as he recalled when he had first revived after escaping the deadly torrent. There had been a lot of blood and he had been confused and wondering whose it was. Then he had moved and the burning agony around his right chest and through to his back had informed him it was likely his. Another memory came of a tree tearing into him and a cry, not his, a desperate denial of what was happening. But no matter how hard he struggled to focus on the memory more clearly, the owner of that tauntingly familiar voice evaded him.
Pulling himself back to reality Jess again smiled weakly and, his voice now barely a whisper, tried to absolve his young savior of any guilt for what might happen next. “You’ve done f—fine s–so far. I t–trust you. Ain’t no—nothing you c-can do about t–the p–pain. D–do what you have to.” This last came out as a sigh as the dark head fell back and the heavy eyelids slid closed.
Sam listened to Jess’ shallow breathing, hoping that the man had lapsed back into the bliss of unconsciousness. It would make what he had to do next so much easier. Taking some of the torn strips of sheeting, he soaked them in the boiled water. Then as gently as he could he began to clean out the jagged tear that stretched from the left side of Jess’ taut stomach around his right ribs and halfway across his back.
In some places the cut was shallow, barely a deep scratch but as he eased his patient over onto his side, the wound became deeper and more angry the further round he traced it. The last four inches or so, where the branch must have first tore into Jess, was down into the muscle. So deep that Sam thought he could see the white of the rib underneath. To make matters worse, just as Sam had expected the flesh around the wound was an angry red, with yellow pus mixed with blood seeping from the tear.
As Sam worked to clean the wound, he found himself having to clean torn cloth and splinters of wood from inside it. ‘No wonder it’s so angry looking’ he thought. ‘This will account for the fever too. I hate to be thinking this Jess, but your gonna need every bit of strength you’ve got and then some, if’n your gonna make it through this.’ As he worried over what he didn’t have in the way of much needed medical supplies, Sam continued to clean the wound. Jess remained unconscious, but something of what was being done to his battered body must have been getting through, as he moaned and tried frequently to move away from the probing fingers that assaulted his body.
Some of the wooden splinters had been deep, and more like wooden needles. Sam had to take his knife to those, further cutting the angry flesh in order to remove the wood and allow the pus to drain. He did his best to push as much of the poison as he could from the wound, using the hot wet sheeting to draw it further.
Finally satisfied that he had cleaned it up as good as was possible, he reached for the remaining whisky. He knew what he had to do next and he didn’t relish it. A gentle soul by nature, he hated inflicting pain on another living creature. But Jess was already showing all the signs of a raging infection, and Sam had to ensure the wound was as clean as he could get it.
He moved around to the front of Jess and carefully pinned Jess’ left arm with his own. He used his legs to try and immobilize the sick man’s legs. Sam recalled just what it felt like to have whisky poured into an open wound. He had broken his arm once and Jake had cleaned the open skin with whisky. Sam had near bitten through the wood he held between his teeth, in an effort not to scream. That hadn’t been the case when Sam had cleaned a bullet wound in Tom’s thigh. He had poured the whisky into the wound and been thrown across the room by his angry bull of a brother raging and cursing at him for the pain.
Knowing the damage Jess could do to himself, weak as he was, Sam was not going to take any chances. He immobilized Jess as much as he could and then tipped the bottle over the wound liberally, allowing the burning alcohol to enter and run through the open wound.
An animalistic cry of mortal agony split the air, as the pain burned through Jess’ body and dragged him back to awareness. Though the man had been near to death when Sam had found him, it was proving difficult to keep him still as he struggled to escape the fire that sought to consume him from the inside out. “ Easy. Easy now, Jess. Hold still, it’ll be over soon.”
Pain-filled eyes flew open, but didn’t see Sam. Wherever the fever and pain had taken Jess, he wasn’t aware that the hands holding him were friendly. He struggled against another, an enemy from his past perhaps? A blond-haired man’s head dipped over him, and light blue eyes locked with his. Somehow the face was familiar and raised a yearning in him, for what he didn’t know. A disembodied voice gave the face a name. “ Ya gonna finish this with Sherman. I told ya, we got time. Ya know you bin wanting to do this. Hit him, finish him off.”
Then Jess was fighting for his life, trading blow for blow with the man. Yet it didn’t seem right. Jess could sense that the other man holding back and he heard himself bait him. “That all you got. I’ve fought boys with more clout.”
Anger and something else flashed in the other man’s eyes. “Fine, Harper. If that’s what you want, you’ve got it, boy.” A powerfully fist lashed out, connecting to his jaw, his head throbbed, but before he could recover another fist hit him in the stomach and he doubled over. The man called Sherman leaned over him and Jess recognized the look in those eyes. Pleading, the man was pleading with him to stay down. Why?
Lost in his nightmare of confused, broken memories, Jess was struggling fiercely against the hands that held him, when gentle words broke through his delirium and he finally focused on Sam’s worried features. “S–Sam?”
“Yeah, Jess, it’s me. You’ve got to settle down. I’m sorry, but there’s more to do yet.”
“What h–happened?” Jess struggled to recall the past hours.
“You got hurt, remember. I’m trying to put you back together. I just finished cleaning out that tear in your side. Up till then you was doin’ fine. Guess you didn’t like me wasting good whisky on the wound. You put up one hell of a fight.” Sam tried to use humor to help the man cope with the pain that must still be coursing through him.
A quick nod confirmed that Jess did indeed remember. “S—Sorry. I didn’t h—hurt you, did I?”
Now it was Sam’s turn to laugh at the thought that Jess even considered he had enough strength in him to do any damage. “No Jess, but ya might want to before I’m finished. I got that wound as clean as I can, but it needs stitching. Think you can lie still while I do it. It’ll be kinda hard to sew you up and keep ya pinned down at the same time. I could do it, but it might make my stitchin’ a little less neat.”
A soft laugh came from Jess, but it quickly turned into a groan as the movements made his side start to burn all over again. Sam looked at his new friend with sympathy. He was sure that there were a few broken ribs to deal with to, but he’d bind them up when he finished with the jagged wound. ‘One small step at a time’ he told himself. He picked up one of the smaller branches he’d discarded earlier when he had been preparing the splints. Wrapping a small strip of sheet around it, he offered it to Jess. “You might want to bite down on this while I stitch you up.”
Once more, Jess’ mind allowed him a short glimpse of his past, leaving the wounded man recalling a similar time when someone was trying to help him when he needed a bullet dug out of his shoulder. This time it seemed an older woman that leaned over him, but only the eyes were seen clearly, eyes that where full of love and concern. Again, the man’s voice from earlier, “Here, Pard, you might want to bite down on this, it’ll help with the pain” But the faces were blurred and he could put no names to either the eyes or the voice.
As quickly as it had come, the brief memory dissipated, and a worried voice called him back. “Are you okay? You were awake but ya didn’t seem to be with me.”
“ I thought, j—just for a minute, I—-I re—-remembered something. It –it wasn’t clear.” Jess reached up with his one good hand and took the stick. “Best we get this over with, Sam.” His eyes gave Sam permission to do what was needed, before they slid shut again.
This time Sam knew Jess was still a wake; by the way his breathing became slower and deeper as Jess forced himself to remain calm and still, trying to shield himself against the pain to come. Sam worked as quickly and as smoothly as he could, but he saw each flinch on Jess’ face as the needle stabbed his already abused flesh. As he neared the worst part of the damage, he heard the wood snap and saw the blood run from Jess’ lip where he had bit through the wood and his lip as he tried not to scream out or move away from the needle.
At last Sam was finished. He left the last five inches open, needing to allow any residual infection to drain. He would need to sew that up in a few days, when he was sure the wound was clean. This final part he packed with whisky soaked sheeting, holding tightly to Jess as he hissed and bucked against this last assault. It proved too much for the man, as once more his eyes rolled back in his head and the pain sent him tumbling back into blackness.
Now that Jess was out to the world again Sam was able to work faster to finish patching him up. He bound up the wound tightly, to try and discourage any further bleeding. The near white color of his patient worried him, and he reasoned that Jess couldn’t afford to loose any more blood. He pulled the inert body more upright, letting Jess’ head and shoulders rest against his own chest as he extended the bandaging higher, supporting the broken ribs.
Laying the unconscious man back down he cleaned the head wound and was relieved to find it had sealed itself shut. At least his sewing skills wouldn’t be needed there. Non-the less he placed a small pad against it and wrapped a bandage around to keep it in place.
Although he had felt the burning heat radiating from Jess, body, he noted with concern that the thin frame was wracked by tremors, a further sign that Jess was fevered. He replaced the soiled shirt and jacket, carefully wrapping them over the splinted right arm. They were stiff with blood, but Jess needed to be warmed up and Sam had not brought other clothing with him. He would have used his own but if he returned bare-chested to the shack, he would likely get caught and that would mean certain death for the sick man now resting before him.
He stood up then and looked down at his patient, noting with a wry smile that most of Jess’ upper body was white bandages and black bruising. It was the first time he had really looked at the young man he had rescued. If you ignored the bruising, he looked to be a very handsome man. No, Sam corrected himself, relaxed as the unconscious man now was, relatively free from the pain, his face showed the real youth that the pain lines had hidden.
Sam reached down and placed the two blankets he had brought with him across the shivering body. As he did so, he saw the pocket on the jacket and noticed a slight bulge in it. He hesitated for a second. Stealing actually didn’t sit well with him, and he was about to pull the blankets up and clear up the mess, when a thought struck him. There just might be something in the pocket that could help properly identify this man.
Opening the pocket he pulled out a small wallet. Inside he found a few dollar bills and a carefully folded letter. As he unfolded the letter a small, faded photograph fell out. Cracked and now faded by the river water, it showed the man he called Jess standing with three others, a tall fair-haired man, an older woman and a young boy. ‘His family?’ Sam questioned himself, but was unsure, as he could see no shared features.
He placed the photo back in the wallet and turned his attention to the letter. It had already faded due to being folded in the wallet, and, like the photo, the man had obviously treasured it, to carry it with him. The river had caused the ink to run and Sam had to move out into the light at the mouth of the cave to try and make any of it out. The name Ha—r and She –an ranch could be seen at the top. What little he could read, told that the recipient was missed and urged him to hurry home. At the end, it was signed, Slim and Mike send their love, and then he could barely make out the name Daisy. A short additional line mentioned the photo, just so you won’t forget what we look like.
Touched that these people evidently cared a lot for this man, he looked at the photo again. His eyes watered as he looked at the happy faces, and he envied Jess the caring family he obviously had. Another thought struck him that the people in the photo must be out of their mind with worry about him. He folded the letter and went to place it and the photograph back inside. Some barely legible writing on the back of the photo caught his eye. As he read the brief note, he held his breath, unnerved by the unexpected coincidence.
Jess, remember when we all visited Cheyenne. We had this taken as a memento. We want you to have it with you, to keep us close till you are back home.
As with all revelations, the next thought caught Sam completely off guard. ‘Ha—r’ Sam squinted hard at the letter again and this time the full word could be made out. ‘ Harper. Lord, this really was Jess Harper. But it couldn’t be the same man who had crossed his brother. And yet there was the name, in black and white, and the gun he had found was a gunfighters weapon.’
Sam sighed, ‘He doesn’t look much older than myself’ he thought, ‘and he certainly doesn’t look like the hardened gunfighter my brother described.’ Then as Sam thought about it, he realized that, as with all things, his brother only saw what he wanted to. He blamed Jess Harper for warning the law about the planned bank robbery, and Jake Brading had ended up in jail, but the truth was Sam himself had seen that the plan his older brothers had would end up with innocents getting hurt. Sam had been the one to betray his older siblings, but Jess Harper had been blamed for it and Sam had never corrected is brothers incorrect assumption. As Sam recalled the letter and photo again, he could not match the image of the caring family man it portrayed with the image his brother used to fuel his anger and hatred.
‘No’ Sam thought ‘If Jess had refused to be involved with the gang, or even considered betraying them, it would have been done for all the right reasons. Just as Sam himself had done it for all the right reasons.’
The man Sam now knew to be the real Jess Harper began to rouse again, the dark head moving restlessly from side to side. As reality penetrated the fog of pain and fever that clouded his thinking Jess began to mumble softly. Sam could make out vague words and names that gave final confirmation to his identity. Before Jess came around fully, Sam hastily thrust the wallet in his trouser pocket. Later he wouldn’t be able to say just why he had done it. Maybe to keep it safe, or in a futile attempt to keep Jess’ identity hidden, should the sadistic Mace find him.
All further considerations of what to do about it were pushed from his mind as the dark head lifted and fever bright eyes focused on him. Jess pushed up on his good arm.
“S–Slim?” Then he fell back heavily with a groan at the pain that assailed his weakened body.
Dropping down beside Jess, Sam raised his head and pressed the canteen to his lips. Jess weakly brushed it away.
“No, it’s me Sam. Who is this Slim? Do you remember anything?” Sam wasn’t sure if it would be a good thing for Jess to start remembering right now. He just might remember the name Brading and all that it meant.
For a brief moment, the blond-haired man’s face flashed before Jess’ eyes, but nothing fitted. “I—I don’t recall. Something about the name s—sounds familiar.” His eyes clouded again. “I just c—can’t p—place—” Jess’ voice trailed of and Sam looked at the ailing man, his face reflecting the sympathy he felt.
“It don’t matter none right now. You got yourself a nasty bump on the head. I heard tell that can sometimes make you forget things. It doesn’t usually last long. Maybe you’ll remember more soon.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Jess rubbed his good hand across his eyes, trying to clear the mist that seemed to swim in front of him. Sam urged him to drink again and this time Jess did so.
As the cool water eased his dry mouth Jess roused enough to note his right arm was strapped to his body and his chest was heavily bandaged. He raised his eyebrows at Sam, silently asking what had happened.
“Ya got yourself a few broken ribs when you were thrown around in the river. The deep gash that extends round to ya back must have likely happened at the same time. I’ve cleaned and stitched it. Had to leave the last few inches open for now. I had to clean out a lot of infection. It can be closed in a few days if it stays healthy.”
Jess nodded his thanks. “You been to doctorin’ school?”
“Heck, no, just kinda found myself having to look after my older brothers from time to time.” Even as he said it Sam realized he may have said the wrong thing.
“They nearby, these brothers of yours?” came the inevitable question.
“Nope,” Sam lied, and hoped that Jess was too exhausted to notice. Before Jess could think to enquire further he raced on “Ya might want to avoid leaning on that right shoulder and arm of yours. You done busted it in two places. I’ve straightened it as much as I can and splinted it, but any jarring is likely to set it all off again.”
As Sam spoke, Jess had vivid flashes of the fight with the river. He remembered a rope, someone on the other end. Had they released it? Did they let go to save themselves and dooming the other to a terrible death. As quickly as that thought came, Jess dismissed it. Somehow it didn’t feel right, and yet—?
“Jess! Jess are you all right?” Sam’s voice broke through his muddled thoughts and Jess looked up into Sam’s concerned face, now mere inches from his own.
“S–Sorry. I–I’m drifting a bit. Can’t seem to k–keep focused.” Sinking back down fully, Jess could no longer think clearly and though he fought hard against it, his heavy lashes seemed to drag his eyes shut. His last words before he fell into sleep came out soft and hushed, “ T–Thank you, Sam. S—seems I owe–owe you —my–my l–life—-”
Although Sam had tried to keep track of time, fearful in case the others back at the shack woke up and found him missing, the darkness in the cave made it impossible to know for sure when night had set in. He had spent most of the time since Jess had lapsed into unconsciousness working to try and bring his raging fever down. Constant wiping of Jess’ face, shoulders and chest with a cloth soaked in cold spring water had finally seemed to win the battle.
Throughout the past hours Jess had tossed and turned, mumbling and crying out in his delirium. Sam had repeatedly wiped the sweat from his forehead and forced him to take a swallow of water whenever the fevered man roused enough to be able swallow without choking. Even so he had only managed to get little more than half a cupful into him. At last Jess had ceased to fight his demons, and lay still on the blankets. The shivering from earlier had stopped as well.
The sudden quiet caused Sam to falter, as for a brief moment he thought the young rancher had lost his fight for life. Then Sam saw the flutter of a pulse at his neck and the slight but regular rise and fall of his chest. Jess was alive. Placing his hand on Jess’ forehead, Sam was relieved to find it was cool. The injured man was weak and exhausted, with a long way to go to heal, but he had beaten the fever.
With Jess now in a normal healing sleep, Sam made a decision. Standing, he eased his cramped muscles, stiff from sitting alongside the sick man for several long hours. He moved out of the cave and refilled the canteen, returning to place it alongside the sleeping Jess.
As he placed the biscuits and beans next to the water, he wondered briefly if he should leave his own gun with Jess. Then he realized that his belligerent brother would most certainly realize it was gone, and Sam would receive a beating for his stupidity at the least, or Jess would be found at the worse. It was better he kept his weapon for now, besides Jess wasn’t going anywhere in a hurry and he should be safe as long as he stayed in the hidden cave.
Finally he piled more wood on the fire, then pulling up the blankets around Jess’ sleeping form, he headed out to his horse and the journey back to the shack, once again taking care to cover all tracks, difficult as that was in the dark.
Chapter 9
Throughout what was left of that stormy night, five people wrestled with their own tempestuous emotions.
Back at the Sherman ranch Daisy Cooper had finally got a tearful Mike to settle into bed. Mike had slept well into the day, but then, with the resilience that children seem to have, he had woken up well enough to eat a good meal and want to get up. He had only vague remembrances of the rescue the previous night, his young mind choosing to play down the fearful experience of being trapped in the rising waters.
What he did recall was Jess holding him close, of feeling secure at last in his big brother’s arms. He remembered Slim hauling him to safety with Jess shouting encouragement.
More awake by the second, Mike had looked around the room and failed to see any evidence of his two friends. “Daisy, where’s Slim and Jess?”
“You get that hot food down you Mike, then when you’re feeling better you and I are going to have a serious talk about responsibility.” Daisy felt she had to keep the young boy from asking more questions. She was barely able to keep her own emotions in check. As she spoke she fidgeted nervously with the blankets that she had placed around Mikes shoulders as he sat eating at the table.
“But Daisy—” he persisted.
“Now you behave young man, you’re in enough trouble as it is.” Unusually for the motherly woman, her voice held a sharp edge as she struggled to stay in control of herself.
Mike cringed visibly, and ducking his head, proceeded to play with his meal, shoving the food around the plate restlessly.
Observing this Daisy felt a pang of guilt, and stifling her own aching heart she said softly, “You gave us all quite a scare you know. But don’t worry, we’re all so relieved to have you back safe and sound, I don’t think you’ll get too hard a time over it.”
“I only wanted to help,” the small boy said, then with a smile he proceeded to eat his meal.
Daisy’s resolve came close to breaking as the day wore on. Mike was soon up and under her feet, and as he remembered the events of the previous night his questions became more insistent.
“Aunt Daisy, I remember being on Slims horse. He brung–”
“Brought” Daisy corrected automatically.
“He brought me home, didn’t he?”
“Yes Mike, he did, and he stayed till the Doctor came and we knew you would be all right.”
“Where is he now, Aunt Daisy?” Mikes voice held a tremor, as the uncertainty of his memories confused him.
“He’s gone back out to join Jess.” Well, it was a half-truth Daisy consoled herself. Hopefully Slim would return soon with a less than happy but very much alive Jess in tow.
For a while that had satisfied the curious boy, but more and more he remembered Jess being in the water with him, comforting and holding him against the rivers force. By early evening Mike knew for certain something was very wrong.
The Doctor had called back to check on the boy, and Mike had seen Daisy talking to him in hushed tones. He’d seen the downcast eyes and shake of his head before he mounted and rode away, and he’d seen his aunt hastily wipe tears from her eyes before coming back inside.
Mike knew that Jess and Slim would have been back to check on him by now if they were able. He worried even more, when no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t remember seeing Jess after Slim had pulled him from the river and wrapped him in blankets.
The young boy knew for a certainty that Jess would have been right there with him and come home with Slim unless something prevented him. Many things had let Mike down in his young life, but Jess had never failed him. He was always there when Mike needed help or comfort, sometimes even before the boy recognized it himself.
Doubt, worry and fear had Mike’s stomach tied in knots. “Please, Aunt Daisy, please tell me? Why ain’t Slim and Jess back yet? Jess always checks on me if he can, Why ain’t he here? Something’s wrong, I just feel it.”
All day Daisy had been trying to find the words to tell the boy that the man he hero-worshipped was most likely dead. How could she control her own deep grief and put their loss into words. She couldn’t comfort herself and had no words of comfort to offer her young charge. Throughout the interminable long hours of waiting she had kept hoping, waiting for Slim to walk back through the door with a shame faced Jess in tow. Slowly she had found herself thinking less and less positively, until now, when she had acknowledged to herself that Jess might be lost to them forever. Yet she fought against saying those terrible words out loud, as if putting voice to those thoughts would make them more real and final.
As she turned towards Mike, ready to say yet another inadequate denial, the tears she saw in his large eyes triggered the release of her own grief. Reaching forward she pulled the boy into her arms and held him close, gently rubbing his back in a soothing familiar gesture.
How often had she done the same for Jess when she had nursed him through the pain of a bullet wound or injury? All three ‘boys’ at the ranch had become sons in her heart, and Jess her middle son often seemed the most vulnerable to her. Despite his self-reliant exterior, she had quickly seen through it to the lost, lonely youth hidden underneath.
“Mike, I’m so sorry. I just haven’t been able to say this before. Jess got caught in the flooding. He was swept away. Slim and the men from town are out searching for him right now. I had hoped maybe they would be back by now, and I wouldn’t have to be telling you this.” She looked down, surprised as Mike pulled away from her arms.
“It’s my fault, isn’t it? If’n I hadn’t gone off, Jess would be home right now.” Guilt and distress where written all over the child’s face.
“No, Mike, no. Jess and Slim had to go to save the stock. They weren’t there because of you. Jess was swept away after he had managed to get you out.” Daisy sought to sooth the child, giving him a partial truth. Mike would not be able to cope with the loss of his older friend and brother as it was, but if he thought he was responsible, the thought would destroy him.
As she wiped at her wet cheeks with her apron, Daisy sought to control herself for the child’s sake. “I’d best put our supper on the table, it’s getting late. Slim and the others may have decided to sleep on the trail, they will probably head back in the morning.” Inside she wanted to scream out her worry and frustration, but she told herself that maybe they had found her wayward son, and they were resting up for the night before the journey home. She wanted to believe that with all her heart, yet still the doubts where there.
A child’s voice broke through her sad thoughts as Mike tugged at her hand.
“Aunt Daisy, it will be alright, just you wait and see. Jess will be just fine. I know he will. Don’t you cry, ‘cause Jess will get back tomorrow and he’ll be real sorry if he thinks he’s made you cry.”
Supper was a quiet time, with Daisy talking about Mike’s schoolwork and other mundane subjects. She talked automatically; her mind distracted with worry. Mike, still suffering from his ordeal, went to bed early.
When Daisy went in to tuck him in, and settle him for the night, he looked earnestly at her. “It will be all right Aunt Daisy, you’ll see. I said an extra prayer for Jess. He’ll be home soon, don’t you worry.”
Choking back the threatening tears, Daisy bent and kissed the young boys forehead. “Thank you, Mike, I will add my own prayers as well. Sleep tight now. I’ll be close by if you need me.” She had rushed from the room faster than she had intended, but Mike’s simple words had brought her close to tears.
Daisy slept fitfully, rising and checking on Mike frequently throughout the night. Apart from tossing and turning even more than usual, the young boy did seem to sleep. Daisy was not so lucky, unable to find resolution for her fears in the simple faith of a child, she finally gave up on the elusive sleep she sought. Rising in the predawn hours she set about cleaning the kitchen and living areas, and then starting to tidy the bedroom Slim and Jess shared.
That had been a mistake as she looked at the bed Jess had left only partially made in his hurry to get on with the busy day. She was always telling the two men off about being untidy, but they both knew it was only halfhearted. In reality they were no trouble to her and she found an outlet for her love for them all in the way she mothered them. She had had to give up and leave the room untouched, unable to cope with the overwhelming emotions the sight of the room triggered.
With Mike still asleep, this time Daisy allowed herself to cry out her loss, until finally, many minutes later, she settled into soft sobs. At last able to control her crying, Daisy dried her eyes and set about her other coping activity, baking. It was the smell of fresh bread and apple pies that finally awoke Mike. Apple pie was a favorite in the Sherman household, especially with Jess. These were for him, she told herself, to welcome him home.
For the men from Laramie that had formed the search party, it was an equally bad night. The night was cold, and despite the roaring fires they had built and the whiskey they shared against the cold, still they couldn’t seem to get warm. Conversation was hushed and minimal, each expressing their doubts about the likely hood of the success of the search.
A few went so far as to say they would head back tomorrow, certain that they would not find Jess alive. If there were even a slim chance of success they would stay. The angry young drifter that had first come to Laramie had warmed their hearts and gained their respect. He was a valued part of their township, but now he was lost to them for certain, and they all had businesses to run.
Like a stalking cat, Slim prowled the camp, unable to settle. As he moved around, pacing angrily, the men lowered their voices. Some even stopped talking or changed conversation mid-sentence. They did it to protect Slim, not wishing to cause the distraught man further pain. All it did for him was to accentuate his loss further.
As the rest of the men settled to sleep, Mort decided to intervene. The men needed to settle and get some rest if they were to continue searching effectively tomorrow. He walked up to Slim and thrust a steaming cup of coffee into his hands.
“Here, settle down and drink this.”
Slim hadn’t been aware he was pacing, his mind playing over and over the sight of Jess as he was snatched from his hands by the river. He couldn’t accept that there had been nothing more he could do, and he kept searching for answers that weren’t there. Without a word Slim took a large gulp of the strong brew, and smiled ruefully as the hot liquid, heavily laced with whiskey, burned its way down to his stomach.
“And when you’ve finished that, you’d better get something to eat. You wont be any good to Jess half dead from cold and hunger. I’ve kept you a plate over by my bed roll.” Mort moved to turn away, but Slim snared his arm and the Sheriff turned back, his eyebrows raised questioningly.
“Thanks, Mort,” Slim raised the cup in acknowledgement, “but I don’t think I could eat right now. Reckon the very thought of food is turning my stomach sour.”
“Then at least settle down so the rest of us can get some sleep.” Mort turned away now and was soon settled under his own blankets, huddled against the cold.
For what seemed at least an hour after, Mort remained awake, listening to the sounds of the search party as they hunkered down for the night. Eventually the only sounds to be heard were they’re soft snores and Slims footfalls as he continued to move around. Mort was about to get up and drag him to his bedroll when suddenly Slim was there and settling under his own blankets.
“I’m sorry, Mort. Just seems that every time I stop movin’ I see Jess’ face and hear him calling to me. I don’t reckon to getting much sleep tonight.”
“You’re going to need a few hours at least. Slim. Tomorrow’s likely to be a long day.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” Slim was struggling hard to keep his voice soft, to hold the anger and frustration at arm’s length. Mort didn’t deserve to become the recipient of his own guilt at losing Jess. “Sorry,” Slim apologized as he pulled his blankets up higher against the cold night air. Despite the roaring fire, the warmth they created was quickly being leeched away by the night mists.
“Kinda cold, huh?” The Sheriff sought to distract Slim from his self-destructive thoughts. “Man could freeze on a night like this.” Even as he said the words, Corey realised his mistake.
“I know that, Mort. That’s part of what’s bothering me.” Slims lips where drawn thin with worry as he spoke.
The Sheriff reached out and grasped Slims shoulder firmly, willing him to believe his next words. “There’s still a chance Slim. Jess is young, strong. There is still a chance.”
“Is there, Mort?” Slim turned his back on his older friend indicating the conversation was over.
Mort slept fitfully, his sleep disturbed by the man beside him as he tossed and turned, occasionally mumbling some sentence or name. Once or twice, when a dream seemed particularly painful, Mort had reached to wake Slim up. He had stopped himself at the last minute. Slim may have been lost in nightmares, but at least he was sleeping.
It was a difficult and slow journey back to the small shack for Sam. He had known that Jess shouldn’t be left alone, but the greater danger lay in him being discovered by the others.
As quietly as possible Sam settled his horse in the lean-to that served as a barn, then headed back into the shack. Much to his relief nothing had changed. Mace slept on the cot, dead to the world and Tom was still sprawled forward over the table. When Tom woke in the morning, he would no doubt pay a price for his poor sleeping position, but somehow Sam couldn’t raise any sympathy for his brother. Any aches and pains he developed were self-inflicted.
Sam spread his blanket down on the floor, across from the one other empty cot. As much as Sam’s body ached from his hard work, he dare not take up the invitation of the empty bed. If his belligerent brother roused himself enough to move, that bed was where he would go, and woe betide Sam if he’d dared to sleep on it. Sam’s place was on the floor, with the other dogs, as his older sibling kept reminding him.
As tired as he was, the young man found sleep elusive. He worried about the man he had left back in the cave. He had done all he could at the time, but what if the fever came back, or he wandered off in a delirium. He may have a badly broken arm and be very weak, but his legs didn’t have any injuries. Telling himself he was foolish, that Jess wouldn’t have the strength to stand let alone take a stroll, Sam turned towards the wall and tried to relax.
His mind would have none of it, refusing to let go of the adrenaline that had driven it these past hours, Sam found himself thinking of his brother and Mace, and how he could continue to escape the cabin without the two outlaws becoming suspicious.
‘This won’t do at all,’ thought Sam. He needed to sleep if he were to keep a clear head in the morning. Somehow, he would have to get fresh bandages and food out to the cave unnoticed. He also needed to find a way of getting Jess away from here, but given he was too sick to withstand a horse ride and Sam had no wagon, that problem would require a little more thought. Perhaps he could build a travois and haul Jess back to town. It would be hard on the man but better than him staying here where he risked discovery.
With a sigh, Sam hauled the blanket up higher, his mind continuing to race onwards out of control. ‘How do I git myself in these fixes,’ the exasperated boy berated himself. ‘ Been better if’n I’d jest left him to die.’
Even as the thought formed, Sam acknowledged that was something he could never do. Because of his caring nature, his life was harsh with his callous brothers, but no matter what his brothers had done, Sam remained a basically honest, caring human being. The sense of achievement he got when he helped someone, or doctored their hurts, far outweighed the pain of the bullying and threats.
Sam was unsure how long sleep eluded him, but at some point in the early hours of the morning his mind finally drifted off and allowed his body the rest it needed.
Not so very far away, another man was finding sleep elusive, for other, more painful reasons. Jess’ body needed rest to heal, but his mind clung stubbornly to consciousness.
He had been only partially aware as Sam had left the cave, but his shoulder throbbed and his side burned and the pain had eventually dragged him back to full awareness. His tumbling, foggy thoughts had haunted him with snatches of memory and half names that meant little to him. Even the emotional responses triggered in his mind by the half-seen faces were confusing. Now fully aware of his surroundings, he struggled to put the pieces together and was failing miserably.
Aloud he had repeated the name that Sam had called him and at first strange to his ears, it began to feel more right. The other name he had spoken, Slim, gave him a feeling of security that was at direct odds to his dream memory of fighting and the name of his opponent being Slim Sherman. He recalled hitting the man, of being hit in return. Brief flashes of harsh words said and yet also of a caring voice offering support, burned through Jess’ brain, until, in desperation he spoke allowed, banishing the demons.
“No.” he ordered and pushed himself upwards through the pain to stare at the dying flames of the fire Sam had left. Again, a memory came, unbidden and unwanted. A house, little more than a shack, engulfed in flames, the screams of people trapped and a voice, his own perhaps, raised in denial and anguish. He remembered trying to pull something, someone, from the inferno, and then he cried aloud as he was forced to let go as his own flesh burned and blistered on his hands. He felt again the agony of the flames as they sought to claim him and again he shouted out, his voice, older and more mature now, echoed around the cave.
Coming back to the reality of the here and now, Jess stirred at his hands, still feeling the burns of long ago on his flesh, just as the loss of his family still burned in his soul. He shook his head to clear it of the memory and blinked his eyes against the tears that had spilled; pulled forth by both the memory and the pain his sudden movements had caused him.
More focused now, the cold of the cave seeped in, and Jess reached out for the blankets he’d lost in his battle with memory. Holding them close with his one good hand, he tried to move closer to the dying fire. Just a mere two foot later and he collapsed exhausted, panting for breath and fighting back the waves of dizziness and nausea that threatened to overtake him.
As he regained control of his body, he realized that Sam had left more wood nearby, just a few feet from the fire, if he could get up. He moved to push his left side and back against the wall, and brought his legs under him, despite the pulling on the stitches in his right side and back. By sheer force of will alone he pushed upwards, levering himself against the rough cold rock.
‘Huh, Slim always did say I was a stubborn cuss.’ The words hit him with a clarity he hadn’t thought possible, and again the voice came, scolding but caring and supporting. ‘Just keep out of trouble, Jess, and get back here safe. I know what your like, once you get an idea in your head there’s no reasoning with you.’
He was almost upright now and needed every ounce of that stubborn willpower to force himself to take the few steps needed to reach the wood pile. With the first step the pain flared anew and his head throbbed as if it would burst. Still Jess pushed forward, another two painful steps were gained, but at a high cost. Spots danced across his vision and perspiration ran into his eyes, causing them to sting with the salt. His breath came in painful gasps as his abused lungs struggled to gain air.
The forth step proved to be his undoing, and tremors shook his body as his legs gave way. He fell heavily onto his side, jarring his right arm and sending the burning agony shooting through his right side again. As the darkness closed in and he gave way to unconsciousness again, his last thoughts were of the fire, just a few feet away, but now burning low. Soon it would be out, leaving him alone in the cold blackness of the cave as the memories came back to haunt him, vague, confusing and always leaving him with a deep feeling of loss.
Chapter 10
As tired as he was, Sam Brading awoke before the others. It was always his way to try and rise before his brother. That way he could be up and doing his chores before his brother had a reason to complain. Not that it stopped the bullying; Tom could always find a reason to accost him. Sometimes it was simply that he didn’t like the way Sam looked at him, or he was too slow in his answer.
After tidying away his bedroll Sam set about the task of making a simple breakfast. He had gathered up the empty whiskey bottles from the previous night, hoping that the two men would remember little of the amount drunk and not miss the bottle he had used in his doctoring.
It was the smell of the eggs and bacon cooking that finally roused the two older men from their drunken stupor.
A low groan came from the direction of the table as Tom Brading forced his eyes open in response to his churning stomach. The light assaulted his eyes and only served to aggravate the massive headache and sick stomach that the whiskey had created.
“Was thatt Gawd awful ssmell?” he slurred, not really expecting a reply, and when he did get it, it wasn’t what he wanted.
Sam slammed a plate full of greasy bacon and runny eggs directly in front of his brother. He felt a twinge of satisfaction as his older brother flinched at the noise, and when his Tom’s face wrinkled in disgust at the sight just inches from his nose, that feeling grew. He may not be able to stand up to his brother directly, but there were other ways to skin a cat.
“It’s your breakfast. Done just the way you like it. Eggs nice and runny and plenty of fat left on the bacon.” Sam replied innocently.
“OHHHH! Gawd,” Tom grabbed his aching head, then rapidly put his hand across his mouth as the smell finally sent his stomach into revolt. He stood up so fast that the chair fell back to the floor with a crash, and despite the crazy way the room was tilting he headed out the door. “Lemme outta here!”
Sam paused in his work to listen to his brother lose the contents of his stomach around the back of the shack. He turned back to the table to see Mace staring at him.
“You ain’t as dumb as you make on, are ya kid?” Mace stated, then seeing as he got no reply he added,” Well, that isn’t gonna work on me, so don’t even think about it. I can hold my liquor. So, what ya got for breakfast then?”
Obediently Sam placed the second plate on the table and Mace sat down in front of it. True to his statement, he appeared to enjoy the greasy meal and even reached across to snag the offending plate that he’d driven Tom Brading from the cabin.
Sam ate over by the stove, eating only one egg and a single rasher of bacon with his biscuits. The rest, uncooked, he’d slipped into a small bag, to try and take up to the cave later. Hopefully, by reducing his own rations, the missing food would go unnoticed and he could safely ensure Jess was fed.
His meal finished, Mace sat back, “Well, I got me a problem. I need that gut sick brother of yours to ride into Laramie to make a few inquiries about the stage times. Right now it don’t look like he’s up to doing nothing.”
Unsure of what was coming next, Sam waited until Mace was ready to speak again. After a minute’s consideration, Mace stood up. “Don’t reckon there’s anything for it but to drag that sorry excuse of a man that’s your brother with me.” Mace looked like he was really enjoying the situation. “Hell, he just might be providing’ me with the perfect excuse. Sick as he is now, he’ll be a whole lot worse after we ride into Laramie. Ain’t nobody gonna be suspicious of a kind friend bringing his sick partner in to see the Doc.”
After Mace had headed outside, Sam hastily made a start on his chores. The sooner he got his work done, the more chance he would have to head out to look after Jess. It appeared that as long as he did his chores well, by late afternoon and a whiskey bottle or two later, Tom and Mace didn’t usually notice whether he was around or not.
He worked extra fast, ignoring the voices raised in argument outside the shack. Pretty soon he had the place reasonably clean and tidy, and he headed outside intending to see to the horses.
“Where in Hell you think your goin’?” his brother yelled, causing Sam to jump forward and almost stumble. He had not noticed his brother and Mace leaning up against the wall of the shack.
“The h–horses need takin’ down to the river for fresh water and the grass is b–better there.” Sam managed to stammer out.
The elder Brading was not happy; he needed to vent his frustration at Mace’s insistence that they both ride into Laramie. Seeing his younger brother, his first instinct had been to pick a fight with him, to find some fault in what he was doing and use it as an excuse to abuse him. It always made him feel better when someone was made to cower down to him, and his younger brother was the perfect target.
Without warning Tom sprang forward, hitting Sam in the chest with the flat of his hand, “Ya done cleaned up in there already, have ya?” Tom yelled; his face pushed up close against Sam’s. “An’ I suppose ya think it was funny givin’ me those goddamn greasy eggs?” This time Toms meaty fist connected hard with Sam’s jaw, and the youth staggered backward, falling to the ground.
Sam peered up at the looming shadow that was his brother, unable to think of a reply that would not bring his brothers wrath against him again. “Well, ya gonna git to ya feet, or stay down like the coward ya are?” Tom sneered at him as he raised his foot ready to kick out at Sam.
Before the blow could land, Tom was grabbed from behind and yanked roughly backwards. “We need to get going. Let the boy do his job,” Mace took charge, glowering at Tom and reluctantly, Tom backed down. There was something about Mace that caused even Tom Brading to avoid challenging him. “Get them horses watered and back here real quick. I want to see them saddled and ready to ride within the hour.”
Rubbing his bruised jaw, Sam hastily scrambled to his feet, eager to take the excuse to escape his brother. He practically ran to the shack, threw the bridles on the horses and led them away toward the river, leaving the two men to sort their differences out, Maybe he would get real lucky and they would kill each other. A small smile touched Sam’s lips at that thought.
Slim Sherman had finally fallen asleep in the early hours of the morning, exhaustion and despair claiming him, despite his resistance to sleep. When Mort had woken up, he had decided to leave the hurting man asleep for as long as possible. The camp was tidied up and most of the men fed and ready to go before Mort took a plate of biscuits and beans across to Slim. He knew his younger friend had eaten little last night, but Mort was determined that he would eat at least some of this, even if he had to stand over him until he did.
When a gentle shake failed to rouse Slim, Mort shook him more vigorously and was rewarded by a grunt and a demand that Jess let him be, he’d get up in a minute, thank you very much.
“Slim, it’s me Mort. Wake up son, the rest of the men are ready to go, soon as you’ve eaten.”
With a groan, Slim sat up and blinked sleep from his eyes. Even as he did so, reality hit him hard as he remembered why he was sleeping out on the hard ground. He looked at the food that Mort held out to him. He pushed it gently away with his hand. “Ain’t hungry Mort, thanks anyway. Just give me a minute and I’ll be ready to ride.”
“We ain’t movin’ anywhere until you’ve cleaned that plate Slim. I mean it. You look done in. We’re going to search further afield today, and we may not be able to stop for a noon break. You’re gonna eat that if I have to feed it you.”
A wry smile touched Slim’s lips, “You kinda remind me of me, when Jess gets a strop on. He can be as stubborn as all get out when he wants to be.”
Mort knew how the blonde must be hurting, as the hope of finding his partner slipped away with each passing hour. He squeezed Slims shoulder re-assuringly, but said nothing. He had no words of comfort to offer, unable to make up even a weak lie. Corey himself now felt that there was little chance of finding Jess alive, let alone his body to bring home to bury.
Chewing quickly, Slim forced himself to swallow the tasteless food. Finally, his plate empty, he rose up and packed his things. He was mounted and ready to go within minutes.
As they approached the river, the sheriff led the men toward the falls, then swung away intending to go around the falls and resume the search lower down. Once they reached the bottom of the trail around the escarpment Slim held back. Mort turned his horse around and rode back to him. “Something wrong, Slim?”
“I’m going to check this stretch again, Mort.” Slim firmly stood his ground. He had a feeling that Jess was nearby, that he needed to be here, but he couldn’t say why he felt it.
“We covered this pretty thoroughly yesterday Slim. We need to extend the search lower down,” Mort stated logically.
“Can’t explain it, Mort. It’s just a crazy feeling, but I want to double check this stretch.”
Mort nodded his acceptance. “Need some company?” he offered. “The men can carry on themselves.”
Slim hesitated briefly, and then acknowledge the offer as the gesture of support and friendship is was meant to be. “I’d be mighty appreciative of that, Mort.”
Having sent the rest of the men ahead, Mort and Slim returned to the base of the falls and started a slow search of the rivers banks. Eventually Slim crossed the now fordable river and rode a parallel course to the sheriff, on the opposite side. Both dismounted and led their horses as they scoured the ground inch by inch to try and find any sign that Jess had been washed up there.
At one pint Slim paused, unable to make out what he was seeing, but still finding it at odds with the rest of the mud and debris. The ground looked somehow wiped clean, muddy and dirty yes, but still too neat and regular. Puzzled, and feeling ill at ease, Slim knelt to get a closer view.
Across the river, Mort stopped and waited. Finally, he shouted across, “Found anything?”
Slim’s reply was slow in coming. He wasn’t able to explain it, but something felt wrong. He put his hand out on a nearby tree branch on the bank, steadying himself as he inspected the ground. When he pulled his hand back, his fingers where sticky with the last remnants of what was obviously blood. “I’m not sure, Mort., but something ain’t right here.”
“Hold on there, Slim. I’ll ride further down where it goes shallow again and join you.” Mort went to mount up when he saw someone heading down to the river, leading three horses. “Slim, someone’s coming.” he warned.
Turning and standing in one smooth movement, Slim prepared to meet the new comer.
Hurrying to escape his brothers anger and lost in planning how best to get back to Jess and see what else needed to be done, Sam failed to see the tall blonde headed man crouching at the water’s edge. He was at the very spot he’d found the injured Jess the day before.
It was Mort’s call that penetrated Sam’s thoughts and brought his head up with a snap. His first instinct was to turn back, but the other man’s call told him he had been seen and it was too late for that. The only way would be to carry on and try and bluff his way through, whilst finding out as much as he could about why they were here. It was pretty obvious they were searching for someone and Sam was certain he knew who.
As Sam reached Slim, he found himself staring at the face from the photograph that Jess carried.
Slim took in the bruises on his face, but he made no comment. Instead, he offered his hand in greeting and said, “Howdy, Mister. Name’s Slim Sherman. I own a ranch near here. That there,” Slim tipped his head in the general direction of Mort. “is Sheriff Corey from Laramie.”
How he managed to stop himself turning and running when Slim said who they were was a mystery to Sam. His heart was hammering and his mouth felt dry. Still, he managed to find enough moisture to reply and sound convincing. “Names Sam, Mister Sherman. I’m just bringing my brothers and my horses down to water. What you doin’ here? You look to be searchin, for something? Maybe I can help?”
Slim forced a smile past the ache in his heart, but his sadness carried in his voice. “My friend and partner got caught in a flash flood day before yesterday, we are looking for him. You see anyone around? He may be injured.” Slim looked pointedly at the blood marring his fingers.
“Hate to disappoint you mister, but that’s my blood.” Sam rubbed at his jaw pointedly. “ I bin bringing the horses down to the river the last few days. We’re camped back aways, been waiting for the river to drop to a safe level to cross. Horse slipped yesterday and we both took a tumble. Got myself a few cuts and bruises then.”
Sam’s mind was racing. He knew this was the perfect time to tell this man he had found his friend, but he didn’t know if Jess was still alive, or even if these men might blame him for the man’s condition. What he did know for a certainty was that his brother and Mace would kill them all if they found them together. So, for all their sakes Sam chose to lie. If Jess lived, he would find a way to get him back to Laramie without anyone being the wiser about his involvement in it. As far as Sam was concerned, he dare not trust anyone right now.
“I ain’t seen a soul, other than my brothers. They’re back aways sorting out camp before we move on, now that the rivers down. You say yer from Laramie? Tell you what, if’n we do come across your friend, how will we know him?”
“Black, wavy hair, blue eyes, smaller than me and always looks like he could do with a good meal.” Slim’s voice carried the affection he held for his missing ‘brother’ easily and Sam felt a pang of guilt at having to deceive this man. “He goes by the name of Jess Harper. Sam, if you and your brothers find him and you get him back to us safe, I’ll see you are well rewarded for your trouble, no matter what it takes.”
Sam nodded thoughtfully. He must mean a lot to you, to be making an offer like that.”
“He’s an ornery, stubborn, mule headed fool at times, but I couldn’t imagine life without him as part of it.” Slim felt his own eyes water as he thought on his best friend and all he had come to mean to him. His voice dried up in his throat.
Across the river, Mort had been listening to the encounter quietly. Now he saw Slim falter and stepped in to rescue his emotional friend. “Jess is a good friend to a lot of us folk in Laramie, a good man to ride the trail with. We’d be mighty appreciative if you’d keep a look out.”
The sun reflecting of Mort’s badge of office sent a chill through Sam. It gave him confirmation of the need to keep Jess’ whereabouts a secret for now, until he could figure out some way of getting the man to safety without giving away the others or drawing unwanted attention to this place.
Offering his hand again to the young man, Slim nodded his thanks and turned away, preparing to mount up and continue his search.
By now, the horses had drunk their fill and Sam gathered up the reins to head back from the river. “I can tell you there hasn’t been anyone around this stretch for a few days. I was down here awhile yesterday, checking out the river levels. If you’re friend was here, I’d have found him. River has been really fast these past days, he could have been carried miles away afore he got out.” Sam caught himself. He had been about to say ‘if he got out’, but the pain of loss written all over the tall blonde’s face made him think better of it.
“Thanks,” Slim said simply, before riding away to continue paralleling Mort on their search further down river.
Once Sam reached the rise above the river, he turned to watch the retreating backs of the two men. He had to fight hard to suppress the urge to call them back, cursing the fact that his brother and Mace where still around. One thing he now knew for certain was that the Jess Harper these two spoke of was a far different man than the one his brother described. Despite the fact that he had only just met these two, he was far more inclined to believe them than his brother.
Returning to the small shack, Sam found Tom and Mace waiting for him. His brother was now looking somewhat tidier, even though his face still retained a green shade and his eyes where bloodshot and watery.
True to form, Tom Brading snatched the reins from Sam and swung out with his right hand aiming to give Sam a glancing blow. “Where ya been. It shoudna oughta taken this long.” Sam was ready for it and neatly sidestepped the blow, only serving to further anger the bully.
Mace was not prepared to waste any more time this morning. “ Go get the saddles, Sam and get our horses ready for us.”
Sam raced of to oblige, returning seconds later lugging the two heavy rigs. The two older men stood and watched as he worked.
“Everything alright out there, boy,” Mace asked astutely. He quickly picked up on the way Sam’s body stiffened at the question, and the little catch in his voice as he replied was also noticeable to the con man whose survival depended on being aware of such things.
Deciding that he had to give some sort of reasonable answer, and also aware that the two men would see the tracks by the river, Sam’s mind raced to come up with something plausible. “Rivers gone down. There were two men down there. Seems they were looking for something.”
“They say just what they was looking for?” Mace questioned further. Busying himself with the cinches, Sam sought to give himself time to find an answer that Mace would accept.
He was not quick enough for his brother, who grabbed his shoulder, spinning him round and up against the horse he was saddling. “Answer him, boy. What’s them men want down there?”
“They weren’t looking for you, if that’s what you think. They were trying to find a friend who got swept away in the flash flood the other day.” He hadn’t intended to say it, but it had slipped out unwanted when his brother had raised his fist again.
“Which way they head?” Mace demanded, threatened by the idea that a group of strangers were searching the area.
“Downstream. Don’t fret on it. I told them I’d been here a few days waiting on the river to drop. I told them there’d been no one around. That was right, wasn’t it?” Sam asked in wide-eyed innocence.
Despite Tom’s continuing scowl, Sam held his ground as Tom continued to verbally reprimand him. “Course it was right, ya blamed idiot. We ain’t seen anyone. Fools shoulda realized by now that the fella theys looking ta find is likely a rotting corpse, probably way down in Cheyenne by now. Get outta my way.”
Sam found himself roughly shoved aside, as his older sibling mounted his horse. Mace had been observing Sam, listening to all he said, but more importantly what he wasn’t saying. His eyes narrowed as he regarded the boy. There was something wrong, he couldn’t place it yet, but he would, eventually. His trigger finger itched, and that always meant trouble.
Keeping his own counsel however and mounted up to join Tom Brading before spurring his horse forward, he spoke one last time to Sam. “Likely as not we will stay in town tonight, give our story about needing to see the Doc some flesh. You stay at the cabin. If’n any strangers come sniffin’ around, tell em you’re waiting on your brother to get back with supplies and you ain’t seen no-one in days. Better yet avoid em.”
Holding his breath in fear against the two outlaws changing their mind, Sam nodded his acquiescence and watched them ride out of sight. Once they were gone, he headed back to the shack, leaving his own horse ground tied to graze.
He was fighting against his own urge to gather supplies and head to the cave as quickly as possible. The calculating look in Mace’s eyes had not gone unnoticed by Sam, and he forced himself to settle to the routine chores of the cabin, waiting until he could be sure the others would not double back.
Finally, he could wait no longer. It was past midmorning and the chores had been completed a while ago thanks to his early morning start. He had not left Jess in the best of circumstances last night and Sam was feeling a growing urgency to get back to him. He gathered up some of the left-over biscuits from breakfast along with some eggs and a half bottle of whiskey he had found forgotten from a previous drinking bout. Another old sheet was pulled from his hidden stash and then he was ready.
Ever cautious, he mounted his horse and headed in the opposite direction, back to the river. There he mingled his horse’s tracks with the others from earlier. When he finally headed to the cave, he took care to cover his tracks once again, even taking a roundabout route to further confuse anyone who may follow.
Ground tying his horse he approached the cave cautiously. He didn’t know what state of awareness Jess may be in, and didn’t want to shock the ailing man. As he neared the entrance, he could see that the fire had burned out, and he couldn’t see Jess’ form over where he had left him the previous night. He stood at the entrance, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness after the bright sun, and called out softly.
“Jess? Jess Harper, it’s me, Sam.” He was unsure what he expected when he called out, but he got no reply. Staring anxiously into the cave, he was finally able to make out a darker huddled shadow on the far side of the cold fire.
His heart racing with concern, Sam reached the still body in two short strides. Jess was far too still, his skin looked pale and even in the poor light, Sam thought his lips had a bluish tinge. He reached out a hand tentatively and touched Jess’ cheek. He felt far too cold and for one heart stopping moment Sam thought the man was dead. Then he heard a barely audible moan, so soft it was almost only an escape of air.
He brought the blankets across and wrapped them firmly around Jess, and then he rebuilt the fire to a roaring blaze. Soon the cave was becoming stifling, forcing Sam to shuck his jacket, yet still Jess’ body remained like ice. Thinking hard as to what else he could do to warm the chilled man up, Sam put a pot of coffee on the fire to boil, and then set about making a broth from some jerky and vegetables he had brought. He hoped that he could get Jess to eat if he managed to rouse him. He hadn’t failed to notice that the biscuits he had left the night before had been untouched. Sam reasoned that Jess must have been out to the world most of the night; the only time he struggled towards consciousness ending in the precarious position Sam had found him in.
He remembered how, when cold, he would rub is own hands together, generating warmth, so while he waited for his cooking efforts to heat up he picked up Jess’ hands, and was alarmed at the translucent blue tinge in the fingers. He rubbed each hand vigorously and was pleased to see the blueness fade, replaced with a healthier pink.
As the coffee brewed, Sam knew he had to check his doctoring and change the dressings, and that would be best done whilst Jess remained dead to the world, but Jess also needed water and food just as urgently. Figuring that the young rancher had not eaten for several days, and his last drink, as evidenced by the untouched canteen, was what Sam had given him the night before, Sam decided that was more important right now.
The warmth of the cave was bringing back the circulation to the unconscious man’s limbs, and with it came the return of the pain, drawing him relentlessly back to consciousness. Sam knelt down beside Jess and gently tapped his cheek. “Jess, come on now, you gotta wake up, you gotta drink. Come on, fight it, Jess boy, ya gotta rouse.”
His insistent urging pierced the fog of Jess’ mind and fixing on the voice, Jess fought his way back to the land of the living. Sam smiled as cloudy eyes opened to focus on him. For a moment he saw the confusion there, as Jess’ gaze flickered around the cave, the momentary panic he read there subsiding as memory of recent events settled into place.
“S—Sam?” Jess voice cracked as he tried to force the words from his dry mouth.
“Yeah. Here, this will help some.” Gently Sam lifted the dark head and tipped some water from the canteen into Jess’ mouth. Gratefully, Jess swallowed, the cool water feeling good as it slid down his parched throat.
This time Jess was able to drink more of the water without feeling like his stomach was trying to get it all back out again. Seeing this, Sam was prompted to try with the broth he had made.“ Good. How are ya feeling now? You remember what happened now?”
The lost look in Jess’ eyes told him more than the actual answer did.“I’m b–better now t-that I’m warm again. I remember w–waking up alone and c–c–cold. I saw the f–fire was near out. R–reckon I wasn’t exactly t–thinking clearly. I t–tried to g–get to the f–firewood you’d left, but s–seems I didn’t m-m–make it.” Jess shook his head ruefully.” I n–never could l–learn to accept d-defeat.”
Sam’s heart leapt to his throat. Was Jess remembering now? “So what can you remember?” Sam talked as he went over to pour out a mug of the hot broth for his patient, keeping his voice as neutral as possible.
Hesitantly, Jess tried to piece together the snatches of memory he had experienced, struggling to try and separate them from his fevered dreams. Finally, he summed it up in a few brief words. “There’s nothing that m-makes sense, n–nothing to s-start rebuilding me again.”
Sam moved behind Jess and being as careful as he could, he hoisted him up into a sitting position, turning him so that he could lean against the cave wall. Handing Jess the mug of broth, Sam squatted down next to Jess again. “Can you manage that?”
Nodding his thanks, Jess took a swallow of the broth. “This tastes g-good.”
“Ain’t much, but by my reckoning you can’t have eaten in over forty-eight hours. Guess most things would taste good”
Jess’ eyes flew wide. “That long? I–I reckon I kinda l-lost track of a lot of things. Hell, even my n–name didn’t feel r-right at first.”
“And now?” Sam prompted.
Jess gained time as he drained the warm broth, surprising himself when he realized how hungry he was. Finally he answered, “Been sayin’ it aloud to m–myself, and in s-some of those mixed-up d-dreams or memories there’s s–someone callin’ me by that n-name. C-Can’t place the faces but J–Jess Harper seems for c-certain what I’m c-called.”
Reassuringly, Jess’ voice seemed to be stronger, and Sam noted that the fever flush had left his cheeks. He reached out to touch Jess’ forehead. “I think your fevers broken. Any other names mean anything to you. What about that one you mentioned last night?”
Searching his scattered thoughts, the young rancher finally fixed on the one other name he could recall. “You m-mean Slim?”
“Yep. That would be the one. You called it out a few times in your fever. Anything come to you about the owner of that name?” Sam thought about the letter and the picture in his pocket and his hand reached automatically for them. Hastily he snatched his hand away. It wasn’t the right time yet to give Jess the full story. Apart from the risks from his brother, there was no way to know how the injured man would take the information.
“T–That’s were it gets real confusing.” Jess was uncertain how much he should say to his young rescuer. “There’s times I see m-me hitting him, we’re h-having a real s-set to I think. Then there’s this v–voice, his voice I t-think, telling me to take c-care, like we w-was brothers or s–something. Don’t a-any of it make s-sense.”
Hesitating to reveal his very real fears about his past, Jess let his voice peter out. He recalled being in jail in one of his dreams, but then he looked down and saw a deputy’s badge in his hand? Nothing made sense right now. Should he be headin’ to the local sheriff, or running in the opposite direction. He shivered as momentarily he saw again the flames eating at his hands and heard a boy’s voice call his name. “Jess! H–help, please Jess. Help us!”
Jess’ hand shook as he held the mug tight, his knuckles turning white as he gripped it. As Sam watched with growing concern, he saw the blue eyes fill with tears as Jess again felt a deep loss but could not put faces to the powerful feelings that wracked his body.
Somehow sensing Jess’ confusion and distress, Sam changed the subject “You want some more?” Sam nodded at the empty mug.
The dark head snapped up, Sam’s voice drawing him back to the here and now. Offering the mug back to Sam, Jess shook his head. He was beginning to feel his strength leaving him again. “M–Maybe later. Sam, how’d you find m–me? Seems kinda odd you b–being out h-here alone an all.”
Sam took the mug and was unsure just how much to tell the man. He watched as Jess wiped a trembling hand across his eyes to clear the moisture from them. “I’m not alone, my brother rode into Laramie a day or so ago. He should be back once the roads safe to travel.” He chose again to change the subject. “You okay. You don’t look so good all of a sudden. You just had another memory come back at you?”
“Nothin’ helpful” Jess shook his head, refusing to let himself dwell on the image of the flames lapping at his hands. He sank back heavily against the rock wall, the last of his strength expended with talking.
“Best you rest now. I gotta change those dressing and make sure everything is healin’ okay.” Sam looked at Jess appraisingly. “You up to this? I’ll be as gentle as I can, but I’ll have to take it slow. Don’t want to be causin’ ya damage or pain.”
“I’ll be f-fine. You do what you h–have to. I’m mighty ob–obliged for all you d-done so f-far.” Jess let his heavy eyes close, the effort of keeping them open becoming too much for him. He ached all over and even lifting his hand exhausted him.
As gently as he could, Sam cleaned and re-dressed Jess’ wounds. Through out it all Jess remained stoically silent, only the quickening of his breathing telling Sam when the pain was becoming unbearable.
Sam was relieved to see that there were no signs of infection in the wounds he had stitched shut, even the deeper slash on Jess’ back looked amazingly clean. Just to be sure, Sam used hot water pads to draw out any remaining pus. Then he poured whiskey into the wound one last time before stitching up the last part of the huge wound. This last action roused Jess enough that he groaned aloud and tried to pull away from the pain. Holding him firmly Sam spoke softly to ease his struggles. “Take it easy, Jess. Try to lie still. I’m almost finished now.”
Finally, Sam finished wrapping Jess’ ribs and re-binding his broken arm, but this time he placed it in a sling, to make his patient more comfortable. Jess roused enough to take another cup of water, and then he finally gave in, allowing himself to sink back into the welcoming pain free oblivion of unconsciousness.
Knowing his brother and Mace wouldn’t be back till the next morning, Sam chose to remain at the cave. He nursed the sick man, rousing him for water and trying to get more food down him whenever Jess woke enough to co-operate. At one point Jess’ fever rose again, and despite the coldness in the cave, the young ranchers body was bathed in perspiration. Sam had stripped Jess down and bathed him repeatedly with the cold spring water that ran past the cave.
Finally, in the early hours of the morning, the fever broke, and Sam wrapped the now shivering Jess in all the blankets and banked the fire back up to a roaring blaze again. As Jess slipped into a deep healing sleep, Sam stayed by his side throughout the remainder of the night.
As the sun crested the mountains and its bright rays warmed the land, Sam roused himself from the sleep he had finally allowed himself to fall into in the hours before dawn.
He busied himself making a fresh pot of coffee and warming up the broth left from the previous night. Brushing his hand across the sleeping man’s forehead Sam was pleased to find Jess’ temperature was normal. He gentle shook Jess’ shoulder to rouse the sleeping man.
Momentarily disorientated, Jess struggled to sit upright and looked around the cave, trying to remember how he came to be here. Bleary eyes finally focused on Sam’s concerned face and the past two days fell into place.
“S–Sam?” Jess’ voice was barely a croak and he liked dry lips. As if on cue Sam handed Jess a cup of fresh water that he downed gratefully. “How long h-have I been sleeping?”
”Since yesterday afternoon, about fourteen hours in all” Sam responded and then answered the next question before it was asked. “ It’s been two days since I found you. What about you, anything coming back yet?”
Jess frowned as he tried to clear his thoughts and failed. “N—nope, there’s still one big blank before I woke up here. A f—few flashes of the river b–but nothing that means anything.” The hollowness in Jess’ voice conveyed his deep loss.
Sam looked up at the pained face. “As soon as you’re well enough I can help you get to Laramie. Being there may trigger your mind to start remembering and if not, then someone there should be able to help you find out more.”
Jess studied Sam’s face, unsure just how much he should say. He needed to find himself and his past desperately, but what if it was something he would be better of not knowing. What if he was recognized all right, but by the wrong people. He didn’t know whom he could trust.
Intuitively, Sam seemed to read his jumbled emotions. “Don’t worry, I’m a good judge of character, I doubt you’re being hunted for by anyone more than your family.” Sam noted the haunted look in the young man’s eyes, yet still he held back on showing him the letter and photograph, uncertain of Jess’ reaction.
Ensuring Jess had easy access to the water, coffee and food, Sam stood up. “Jess, I gotta go and check if my brother’s back, and I’m going to go see if I can hunt us up something a little more substantial than jerky broth. You’re doing well, given what you’ve been through, but you’ve a lot of healing to do and a man needs good food and plenty of meat to do that. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Weak as he was, Jess was still able to wonder why he was here, and not in the cabin he was sure Sam had referred to. “How c–come you brought me here?” he asked before Sam left.
Thinking quickly, Sam responded. “The cabins quite a distance, this cave was nearer, and you weren’t up to traveling far. Still aren’t. Your shoulder and ribs are badly smashed up; I can’t risk jarring them out of place by shaking you up on the back of a horse. I’m afraid there ain’t much choice but to stay here at present.”
The constant ache in his right arm and the stab of pain in his chest accompanying every breath he took made Jess nod in agreement with Sam’s assessment. “Reckon you’ve got that right.”
As Sam turned to go Jess’ soft rasp followed him out. “Thanks for everything S–Sam, Reckon I owe y–you my life.”
Chapter 11
Since meeting the young man by the river, Slim and Mort had moved their search further downstream. That same night the majority of the search party had returned to Laramie. They had done their best, but it was obvious there was no chance of finding Jess alive now, and they all had families and businesses to maintain. As saddened as they were at the loss of the ex-gunslinger who had become their friend, it was obvious he was now beyond their help. It was time to return to the living and get on with normal life again.
Slim had stubbornly refused to give up, so the next day had seen him, accompanied by Mort, searching the riverbank further and further afield. Logically, Slim knew Jess was lost to him, and that Daisy and Mike needed him now. This last day of searching was in the hope of finding his friends body to bring back home. ‘Home.’ Slim recalled a time not so very long ago, when he and Jess had been sitting on the porch after supper. In a quite rasp, Jess had finally admitted to him how he felt.
For so many years since the tragic loss of his family, Jess had drifted, avoiding any commitments, avoiding the pain that allowing oneself to care could cause. He had convinced himself he needed no one, ignoring the deep ache inside him that would say otherwise. Then Slim, Jonsey and Andy had entered his life, and as hard as Jess had fought against it, the Sherman ranch had become his home.
Times had moved on and Daisy and Mike had joined them and Jess’ new family grew. He had suddenly woken up one day and found the commitment he had avoided for so long had already taken place unknowingly. He had a family again and wouldn’t change one little thing about any of it. The large black hollow at the center of his soul had been filled and he was complete at last.
That night, sitting in companiable silence with the man he now considered his brother, Jess had suddenly turned to him. His serious eyes had fixed Slim, and as Jess had spoken, Slim could read the depth of emotion the simple words held in that intense gaze. “Slim, in case I never get the chance again, thank you.”
Unsure for a moment just what Jess was saying, Slim’s face had reflected his puzzlement. A soft smile had graced Jess’ face, and he had gestured expansively at the whole area. “For everything, Slim. For giving me back what I thought I’d lost forever.”
Jess had fallen silent. Then, as before, he suddenly spoke up, but this time his gaze was kept fixed outwards, toward the hill where Slim’s parents were laid to rest. “Slim? I’d ask one more favor off you, but if’n you don’t think you can do it, I’d understand.”
Slim couldn’t imagine what was coming next. He leant toward his best friend, eagerly awaiting what would be said.
He wasn’t disappointed as Jess continued. “When my time comes, do you think I could be placed up there?” Jess thrust his chin toward the small cross on the hill overlooking the ranch. “I kinda would like to think I could still look on this place, still belong, if you see what I mean.” Jess’ voice had become strained and as Slim looked across, if he didn’t know better, he’d have sworn he could see tears in Jess’ misty eyes.
Uncertain where this conversation had sprung from, yet hearing the need in his ‘brothers’ rasping voice, Slim felt the strong emotions squeeze at his own heart. Reaching over, he had squeezed Jess’ shoulder, and his own voice held a catch as he replied. “I’d be honored to have you there, Jess, and I reckon my folks would to. You’re family, Jess, and that plot is for family.” Jess had turned toward him then, and unable to speak around the emotional constriction in his throat, he had given a single, firm nod of acceptance.
“Now, enough of this morbid conversation.” Slim had stood, breaking the somber mood. “I’ve got a bottle of whiskey stashed in the house in case the need arouse. I reckon this is as good a time as any for us to partake of a little alcoholic stimulation.”
The rest of the evening had passed pleasantly, but now, recalling that fateful night, Slim Sherman shivered, wondering if somehow Jess had had a premonition of what was to come. The only thing that held him together now was the need to do what Jess had asked. He had to find his brothers body and bring him home to rest with his family, up on the hill watching over the ranch.
Mort’s insistent voice penetrated Slims dark thoughts. “Daisy and Mike need you Slim. They can’t run that place, even with the help their getting. You’ve got to think of the living now, boy. Jess wouldn’t want you neglecting them like this. Hell, he’d be madder than a hornet stung bear if he could see you right now. Jess loved his family Slim, he’d want you back there with them.” Mort felt guilty having to use Jess’ memory to sting Slim into action, but things couldn’t be allowed to carry on like this. The time had come to accept that Jess was lost to them, and the living needed taking care of.
Pain filled eyes turned to him, and Slim nodded briefly. He knew his friend was right, but the nagging insistent feeling inside him wouldn’t let go. He couldn’t believe Jess was dead. Perhaps he needed to see his broken body before his heart could accept his brother was truly gone from his life forever. With one last look around the devastated landscape, he turned his horse to ride alongside Mort, heading back up river and the road to home. ‘Would it ever feel like home again?’ he wondered, ‘now that Jess has gone from my life.’
It was around mid afternoon when Mort and Slim reached the fateful place where disaster had struck just a few days ago. Mort hurried their horses through the area and onto the road leading away from the river, not wanting to let Slim linger there. The other man had retreated into a sullen silence since they had started the ride back, and had only briefly nodded when Mort had said that once he was back in Laramie he would send out the other volunteers to search again, just in case they had missed anything. Both men knew that the most they could hope to do for Jess now was to give his body a decent Christian burial.
As they passed the place they had used as their base camp, Mort signaled a halt. His keen ears had heard the sound of fast horses approaching from the direction of Laramie. Although it was unlikely there was any threat in that sound, it always paid to be careful out on the frontier. Mort signaled Slim to pull of the road, and both men rode their horses into the shadows of the trees.
The two riders that came around the bend heading away from Laramie was odd couple and they certainly weren’t anyone Slim recognized. Desperate in case they may have news, Slim edge his horse forward and hailed them.
Mace eased his horse to a halt and out of the corner of his eye he saw Tom tense, ready to spring if this new rider meant trouble. He let his eyes look past the tall blond to the older man behind him. The weak sun glinted on the Sheriffs badge he wore. Forcing a smile on his face Mace spoke as casually as he could. “Afternoon,” he nodded “Anything we can do for you gents.”
Corey was not impressed with what he saw, the faces smiling at him kept reminding him of those he’d seen on wanted posters. Then again, a lot of good men could match those posters. Mort responded before Slim, answering their question with one of his own. “ You men not long out of Laramie?”
“Yeah. My friend here ain’t been feeling too good. We waited for the river to go down then headed in to see the Doc. Got hisself fixed up fine, Sheriff. Any particular reason fer askin’?”
“A friend of ours got caught in the storm a few nights back. We’ve had search parties out looking for him. You see anything unusual?” Corey knew they were coming from the wrong direction, but right now he was desperate enough to try anything.
Mace made a great show of interest. “Fraid’ not, friends, but what or who we lookin’ out fer, just in case?”
Before Mort could reply, Slim jumped in. “My partner. He’s about five foot eleven, slim build. Black wavy hair and blue eyes, goes by the name of Jess.”
Tom had been paying little attention to the proceedings until now, but the description had sounded familiar and now that name virtually cinched it. “I used to know a fella of that description, same name to. We had a job-riding herd together a few years back. He was kinda handy with a gun. Yes sir, he had himself a bit of a reputation as a fast draw.”
Slim made no comment as he waited for the stranger to get to the point. He didn’t have to wait long. Brading continued, “He went by the name of Jess Harper. Would that be your friend?” Tom was fighting hard to keep his voice neutral. He wanted Harper dead but had wanted the privilege of sending him out of this life for himself.
Nodding, Slim fought to regain control of his voice as grief once more threatened to sweep over him. Mort saw him swallowing hard and came to his rescue. “Yep. That’s him. Think you’ll find he’s a mite changed now, He runs a ranch and relay station with Slim here, over Laramie way.”
“He’s missing you say? I’m mighty sorry to hear that,” Tom chose his words carefully. We’ve gotta be headin’ on, but we’ll keep an eye open. Hate the thought of missin’ old Jess though. When ya find him, tell him I’ll come by and look him up sometime.” Tom was sincere in that last comment. He didn’t want to think he’d missed the chance to pay Harper back in spades. It had been his goal for so long now, there was no way he was going to give it up. The bastard had better be alive as far as he was concerned.
“If you hear anything that might help, get word back to me in Laramie.” Mort responded, before urging his horse on.
“Will do, Sheriff. Come on, we’d better be getting across that river before its dark.” Mace was careful not to use any names as he moved forward, urging the still brooding Tom Brading to follow.
It was a good minute before Slim Sherman turned his horse to catch up with Mort. He sat watching the retreating backs of the two men until they went out of view around the bend. There was something about the two men that didn’t sit well with him. He knew Jess had had a less than straight past, but somehow, he couldn’t see his partner ever having truck with the likes of the two he had just met. ‘Not that that mattered now, anyway. Not that anything really mattered now.’
Lost deep in his own thoughts, Slim almost collided with Mort, who had reigned in his horse and sat patiently waiting for Slim to catch up. Surprised, he looked up into Mort’s worry clouded eyes.
“Something wrong, Mort?” he queried.
“I’m not sure yet. Those two looked familiar.” Mort hesitated then continued, “Probably just my imagination. Let’s get going. Daisy and Mike are waiting back at the ranch and delaying going back ain’t going to make the telling any easier.”
Pain once more flickered across Slims face. “I know, Mort. It ain’t going to be easy telling them Jess ain’t coming back. I can’t even bring myself to accept it yet.”
Spurring their horses toward Laramie and home, the two men headed back in silence, each dealing with their feelings in isolation.
Two other men were also heading back to their temporary home, and their thoughts were centered on the missing man, but for entirely different reasons.
Mace regarded the scowling face of his partner with a mild amusement. “Seems to me you should be whoopin’ for joy. If those two are to be believed, natures gone done yer killin’ for ya,” he ventured.
“I wanted ta be there, ta see him suffer and beg to die fer what he done ta us. I wanted ta kill him real slow, like the way Jakes rottin’ in the state prison.” Tom spat on the floor and swore loudly, before digging his spurs into his horses flanks and heading off at a gallop.
Maces own temper soared as he watched his brutish partner drive his horse into a hard gallop with a ruthless jab of his spurs into the animal’s flanks. The animals would need to be in top condition if they were to stand a chance of getting away with the payroll next week. They had noticed that a lot of the men folk had been absent from Laramie and had been told that they had joined a search party for a missing rancher. A comment had also been made that it might be that way for a while as the plan was to search in relays of men if the first search proved unsuccessful.
When Mace had said that it would likely mean they would be searching for a dead man, he had received an icy stare. The man went on to add that the missing man meant a lot to the folks around Laramie, and at least they could bring his body home to a decent burial. Mace had asked no further as he didn’t want to draw any undue attention to himself. However, Maces scheming mind filed away the fact that potentially, it could mean there would be fewer able-bodied men around to join a posse after them.
Allowing his own horse to continue at a more leisurely pace, Mace soon met up with Tom Brading just before the river crossing. He was still belligerent but his poor horse had become lathered and even he was not foolish enough to ride it into the ground.
“Feeling better now?” Mace said sarcastically. He didn’t wait for a reply as he really wasn’t interested in the others feelings other than how far they would jeopardize the robbery they planned. “Cause’ I’d like to point out a few facts to you.”
It would seem that Tom Brading had his own agenda. “You ever been eaten up with a need for months, years on end? Had something eatin’ at your gut for so long it’s the thing that drives ya on. Well that’s how I feel about Harper and it don’t sit easy havin’ it taken away like this. I spent nights and days planning on how I was gonna take my revenge out on his hide. It ain’t fair fer this ta happen.”
“If you got yerself away from self-pity for a moment, you just might see how this could help us,” Mace stated forcefully. “There’s gonna be less able bodied men around Laramie to come after us once we’ve done the job, and we know not to head this was, so we can avoid the search parties and put even greater distance between them and us.”
“We still ain’t come up with how we’re gonna do the job, and yer figurin’ how we get away?” Tom’s voice was querulous.
The look that settled on Maces face would have curdled milk. “What do you take me for? This whole mess is gonna make it real simple for us.”
“How so?” Tom snapped his reply, his mind sunk in a morass of anger over his being cheated of his revenge.
“Think about it, if that’s possible for you. This Harper fella you’re so all fired chewed up about worked at the relay station. They’re gonna be a man down and his partner back there looks so shaken up I doubt he’s gonna prove a problem. Yes siree, this little accident is gonna prove real fortuitous for us.” Mace was exuberant at how things where working out, but he was beginning to feel annoyed at Tom’s continued sullenness.
He watched as Tom pulled out the gun he had taken from Sam earlier. Tom idly turned it over, studying its shape and balance. Finally, he ran his thumb over the initials neatly carved in the handle. “J.H.” he said, almost to himself. “I shoulda known, this is the sort of gun he’d carry. Maybe if’n I can get Sam to show me where he found it—-” He left the rest unfinished, but Mace easily followed his train of thought.
“We ain’t got time on pointless searches. That search party would have found him if he was anywhere close enough to be found.” Mace stated slowly.
“But if he’s alive I could—–,” the bully started to say but Mace cut him off.
“You won’t find him alive, and anyway, it would be too risky with all those men out looking for him. If they find him, they’ll take him back to that Relay station. We’ll be paying them a visit in a few days, If he’s dead, then won’t it feel good to tear up the place and the folks that he cared about. If he’s found alive, well, I’m sure you can think of a few things you can amuse yourself with while we wait for the payroll stage.”
A sinister smile spread over Tom’s face as his sick mind began to work on new methods of revenge. If a man like him could be said to pray, then right now he was feverishly praying that Jess Harper would be found alive, and waiting for him when he turned up at the ranch. “You know, ya got a point there. What are we sittin’ jawin’ here fer. Lets get back to the shack and celebrate.” Bradding’s meaty hand patted his saddle bags that where bulging with fresh bottles of whiskey he had purchased when he was in town.
With a last glance back the way they had come, the two men kicked their horses into the now placid river and started across. They rode the rest of the way back in silence, Mace lost in plans for the robbery and Tom lost in thoughts of revenge.
Chapter 12
Leaving Jess back at the cave in a considerably improved state of health than he’d found him, Sam headed off to check some snares he had set earlier. Lady Luck must have been smiling on him, as he found two of them had caught a nice fat jackrabbit apiece. He killed the animals quickly. It was not something he liked doing, but the injured man would need wholesome food to speed his recovery.
Carefully re-setting the traps, he headed to a small stream to clean them. This done, he hid one at the back of the lean to and took the other into the cabin to cook. By the time he heard the approach of the horses, he had a pot of rabbit stew warming on the stove, along with some biscuits he’d made. He heard the heavy boots on the porch and hoped the hearty meal would mellow his brother’s mood.
He needn’t have worried. The smell of the rich stew reached their nostrils and a smile actually briefly graced the features of his older brother. “Well, at least ya been busy while we we’re away.”
Mace flung his saddlebags into a corner and glanced around at the clean and tidy shack. “Yeah, real busy I’d say. Hurry up and serve it up, we got plans to make.”
Relieved that as yet the two outlaws appeared to have no suspicions or questions to throw at him, Sam started to lay the plates out on the table and serve up the stew. As was usual for him, he took his plate and sat on the stool by the stove, safely out of reach of his brother. Without further conversation the two men at the table set to eating the meal. Tom cleared his plate in record time and held his plate out for second helpings, obediently Sam obliged.
“Git a bottle out of my saddle bags,” Tom instructed, and his younger brother moved quickly to obey.
“Hey, we got plans to discuss,” Mace threw out around a mouthful of stew. “You need ta stay sober and thinkin’.”
“Ain’t no harm in one drink,” Tom protested. “ ‘Sides we got summthin’ ta celebrate.”
Twisting his face into a condescending grin Mace nodded. “Alright, but only one, two at the most. “Here, boy,” he thrust his glass towards Sam. “Fill it up. I reckon I’ll join you, Tom. Things are working out real smoothly.”
Sensing that even his belligerent brother was in an unusually good mood, Sam began to relax, and wondered if he could use the whiskey to ensure an unobserved exit later on. He was jerked rudely back to reality by his brothers excited voice.
“After all this time, I’m finally gonna pay back that good fer nothing interfering cowboy. Yes siree, it’s my turn to dole out the grief, Jess Harper, one way or another.”
The name had cut through Sam’s musings like a hot knife through butter. His eyes flew wide and he fixed all his attention on the two men at the table. He fought to stay calm, hoping they had not noticed his reaction as he sat unobtrusively in the corner.
This time it would appear he was lucky. Mace and Tom paid him no attention, their eyes fixed on the gun that Tom had placed on the table between them.
“Things are gonna work out just fine. Not only do I get myself a nice big payroll, but I get to settle the score. I was thinking maybe it would be fitting if’n I use this gun. If’n he is dead, then it’ll be like it’s his own hand that’s killin his ‘family’, and if he aint’, well, I know how to kill a man real slow, with a few well-placed bullets.” As he spoke Tom Bradding’s fingers traced the letters burned into the handle, his eyes becoming unfocused as he imagined the details of his revenge.
Across the table Mace scowled at him. “First off, it’s our money. I’ve an equal stake in this, and second, the odds may have shifted considerable in our favor, but we ain’t got the details of the plan laid out.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know, but ya gotta give a fella a little time to gloat,” Tom smirked back.
Keeping his features as neutral as possible, Sam braced himself to speak. He had to find out just what the two outlaws had found out. “What did ya find out in town then? Cause’ it sure seems to have made you two perky.” He stayed in the corner, waiting for his brother’s reaction, hoping he was far enough away to avoid the expected blow.
The aggressive reaction didn’t take place. Instead, and perhaps more worrying to Sam than if he had been hit, Tom turned a smirking face towards his brother.
“Seems a certain Jess Harper has made his home at the relay station we was considering hitting. Seems he done got hisself lost or maybe killed in the storms the other night. Now ain’t that a cryin’ shame.”
Sam nodded briefly, still fighting to keep from betraying his interest and concern. Mace watched as Tom indulged himself in envisioning his revenge again, and took up the rest of the story. Despite what the elder Brading intimated, Mace did not believe for one minute that Sam was the simple idiot Tom made him out to be. If he gave the kid the details so far, Sam just might be able to contribute something useful to the job.
So, Mace detailed what they had learned in Laramie and on the trail. When he had finished speaking, he looked expectantly at Sam waiting to hear what he would say.
Realizing he was expected to comment, Sam tried to figure out what his least risky response should be. So, he said simply, “So you figure that you’ll hit at the relay station. What if they’ve found this Harper fella by then? That would mean an extra man at the station and a less than distracted Sherman.”
Before Mace could reply, Tom’s harsh voice interrupted the conversation. “I purely do hope they do find him. He’s bound to be hurt bad from what they was sayin’. Sherman will be distracted carin for ‘im and I’ll get my chance to kill ‘im real slow and painful like.”
Inwardly, Sam grimaced at the eager anticipation he could hear in his brother’s voice. He had seen his Tom’s work before and could easily picture what the cruel man intended. He felt sick at the thought of it. Fighting to control his fears, Sam said, “Still don’t see how it’s gonna get ya onto the stage?”
Sam’s eyes kept flicking to the smooth lines of the gun his brother was fondling, stroking it almost as if it where some saloon girl. He had a sinking feeling he knew what was coming next. His brother might be a fool, but Mace had proven time and again he was wily, scheming and not to be trusted. Trouble was, Tom was too intent on his own needs to see the danger Mace represented.
Mace smiled coldly. “I got myself a plan fer that to, boy. We’re gonna get ourselves invited in to that relay station, just a might before the stage carryin’ the payroll is due through.” Mace paused in his description, swinging his gaze from one Brading to the other. He was enjoying the audience and was pleased with the plan that had crystallized in his mind as he watched Tom fondle Harpers gun.
Tom looked up now, hearing the keen edge in Mace’s voice. “And just how we gonna get em to let us in without a fight? They’ll be as skittish as newborn colts knowing that stage is due.”
The lines in Maces face twisted into a frown of frustration. He inclined his head towards the gun in Tom’s hands. “Way I see it, they’ll be beggin’ us to come in and jaw, once they see that there gun we done found down by the river.”
Sam’s heart was pounding in his chest. He hoped the others couldn’t hear it racing. This could change everything. Right now, he needed to get away from them. He needed time to think. “I’ll go take care of your horses,” he volunteered, “You want I should take them to the higher meadows for a few hours. There’s better grazing for ‘em there, fresher.” ‘Please let them take the bait, dear God, please.’ He thought to himself.
It would seem that for once, God was listening. “Yeah, go do sumthin’ useful fer once,” Tom spat out. “Us men got plans ta make. An idiot like you’d just get in the way with ya stupid questions.”
Relieved that he had managed to cover his fear and avoid arousing any suspicions from the others Sam scrambled to comply. He headed out the cabin door; failing to notice the curious stare that Mace threw in his direction before turning his attention back to Tom.
Taking himself directly to the lean-to, Sam set about wiping down the horses Tom and Mace had left unattended to on their return. Whilst he worked his mind was racing. If his brother planned to use Jess’ gun as a trick to gain entrance to the relay station, Sam had to warn them somehow. He knew it would take at least one full day or more to get there and back, and he couldn’t risk being away that long. His brother would know something was wrong and come looking and that might mean he found the very much alive Jess Harper.
And what about Jess? He was better, but he was far from being out of the woods yet. Sam couldn’t leave him alone that long. He was far too weak to manage even the simplest of things for himself. Perhaps he could take one of the horses and get Jess back to the ranch himself. For a brief moment Sam gave that serious consideration. Then he recalled how badly the man was hurt. He had lost too much blood already and if his wounds broke open and started to bleed again, he would die for sure.
Sam’s head was beginning to ache with the stress and confusion of it all. It would seem he was going round in circles, finding a potential solution and then finding out why it wouldn’t work.
Twenty minutes later the horses where curried and he fitted the halters to them, saddling his own. Collecting the other hare and some other food he had stashed away before his brother and Mace had returned, he led all three horses to the cabin. He could hear the two outlaws’ voices raised in heated discussion. Knowing that the two men would carry on like this for hours, planning and re-planning as they worked their way through yet more whisky, he mounted up and headed towards the river, leading the other horses behind him.
Reaching the river he led the horses to the water and let them drink their fill. Satisfied they had drank enough he mounted and headed up to the higher meadows and the hidden cave.
A hundred yards short of the cave, Sam ground tied all three horses, collected his bags and headed the rest of the way on foot. As always, he took great care to cover his tracks, doing everything humanly possible to protect his charge.
Not taking any chances this time, he announced his presence, not wanting to startle the man inside. “It’s okay. It’s me, Sam. I’m coming in now.” That done he stepped into the darkness and stood still allowing his eyes to adjust. Suddenly he jumped back, nearly falling out side again. ”What the—-?” he shouted in shock.
Jess had been literally inches from him, leaning against the cave wall just inside the entrance. He held a short wooden branch above his head, ready to strike. “H—Hey, ya don’t need that. It’s me remember?” Sam stood still, not wanting to alarm Jess further. Somehow the weak man had managed to reach the mouth of the cave and had been ready to defend himself.
Unsure if Jess was hallucinating due to a high fever and didn’t recognize him, Sam continued to talk, reassuring him. “Glad ta see you’re feelin’ stronger, but ya don’t need that,” Sam nodded at the still raised club. “I’m the one that patched you up, if ya recall.”
Although Sam doubted that Jess had the speed or strength to do any harm to him with his makeshift weapon, Sam was concerned about Jess hurting himself should he attempt to use it.
He sighed with relief as he saw recognition light up Jess ‘eyes and the branch was dropped to the floor. Jess started to slide down the wall to the floor as the adrenaline left his body and the weakness once more claimed him.
Sam reached forward and caught his patient by his left arm, slowing his descent and lowering Jess gently to the ground.
“S—-Sorry,” Jess managed to back his apology with a weak grin, “Heard you arrive b—-but didn’t want to take chances.”
“I can see that,” Sam said as he started to quickly check Jess for signs of fresh bleeding. “I called out, didn’t ya hear me?”
“I r—reckon I was f—-focused on getting to the entrance. There was a roaring sound in my h–head. S—Sorry.” Again Jess gave him a weak grin. Sam stood, and then holding Jess around his left side, he helped him up to his feet and back to the blankets at the rear of the cave.
He heard the low groan and saw the pain etched into Jess’ face as he lowered him back onto the makeshift bed. “You’re lucky, ya know. There doesn’t seem ta be any fresh bleeding and your arm and shoulder still seem in line. I’m sure surprised ya made it to the entrance without keelin’ over.”
“Stubborn, I guess. T—there was a f–few times I didn’t t–think I’d make it either.” Despite how wretched he felt, Jess’ eyes sparkled with laughter. During Sam’s absence, driven by weakness, fever and pain, Jess’ mind had been dreaming up all sorts of bad explanations for why he was caught in the river. He knew his name, but he still didn’t know himself. It left him feeling hollow and lost. At least with Sam around he felt more secure. Sam had said he knew of him and had promised to get him to Laramie where he could at least make a start on identifying who he was.
There was one question Jess needed an answer to, but he didn’t dare ask it. In his less lucid moments, he recalled being in a jail cell, on the wrong side of the locked doors. He had woken with a very genuine feeling the law had wanted him at some time in his young life. What he didn’t know was what for, or if he was still wanted. His early fears about his true character had come back to haunt him, at his most vulnerable time. ‘Reckon I’ll find out soon enough, when we get to Laramie,’ he thought.
“I caught us a fresh jack rabbit for supper. The fresh meat will help build ya up.” Sam spoke casually as he started building up the fire and preparing the meal. All the time he was thinking through ways he could get to the relay station and warn them. He reasoned it was less than a week till the stage robbery would take place, and although Jess appeared stronger than Sam had expected him to be at this stage, he still wouldn’t be well enough to travel for a few more days.
The way Sam saw it, if Jess continued to muster and nothing set his recovery back, then he could get Jess on a travois and head out in another four days. It would be cutting it fine, both for warning the people at the relay station and in risking Jess’ health, but he could see no other way around it. That meant he was going need to get as much nourishment into his patient as possible, build the travois and hoard some supplies over the next few days, and all this without his brother or Mace suspecting anything.
While Sam worked on, Jess lay back, watching him through half-closed eyes. His earlier effort had left him more tired than he had admitted, and right now he was content just to try and breath through the pain the activity had caused again. Eventually feeling he could risk talking without betraying his weakness, Jess asked the one other question he had to have an answer to. “When do you reckon on us heading in to Laramie?”
Sam acted like he hadn’t heard the question and just continued ladling the stew onto a plate. He rose and brought it over to Jess.
“Well?” Jess insisted, needing to have an answer.
“Another three or four days at least, judging from the look of you. It’s too early to tell really.” Sam was being honest, and Jess knew it. Foolishly he had just hoped it could be sooner. The hollow feeling of despair that sat right where his memories should be was gnawing away at him like a slow death.
“Come on, get this eaten and then I’ll check ya over and change those dressings. You’ve been really lucky so far, no point temptin’ fate.”
Jess didn’t feel lucky right now, but he reckoned it all depended on your point of view. Yeah, he was real lucky to be alive, he reasoned, if you considered not even knowing for a certainty who you were, was being alive.
Handing Jess a fork, Sam put the plate down on a rock close by. “Can ya manage or shall I feed ya.”
Sam hadn’t meant it to sound belittling but Jess colored non-the less. “No, I can manage, thanks all the same.” He may not know anything about the real Jess Harper, but he did know how he felt, and he weren’t no baby that couldn’t feed himself, one armed or not.
Recognizing the need for the man to regain some self-esteem and control of his life, Sam didn’t argue, even when he saw Jess struggle to hold himself upright with his one good arm and manage to feed himself at the same time. They ate the meal in silence, and Sam took the plates to the stream to clean up before returning to the cave and the unpleasant job of changing the dressings.
Sam had rescued another half bottle of whisky and offered some to Jess, knowing it was gong to hurt to remove the old bandages and check him over. Jess shook his head. “No thanks. I’ve been muddled enough these past hours, or is it days? I need to keep my head clear.” To himself he added ’I need to sort my dreams from my memories. Gotta make a start on figurin’ out who I am, where I belong.
“Please yourself. I’ll be as gentle as I can but some of them bandages is most likely stuck.” Sam kept his voice neutral, but in truth he was not relishing the job ahead.
An hour later Sam sat back, circling his shoulders and releasing the tension that had built there. As he suspected, the bandages had stuck firmly to the wound, and despite soaking the material and being infinitely careful, he had pulled several areas of scabbing off, causing a little fresh bleeding.
Throughout it all, Jess had clenched his teeth against the pain and forced himself to remain still whilst Sam worked. He had even managed to move his right hand and elbow whilst Sam had unstrapped his shoulder and arm to check them, before Sam had readjusted the splints to accommodate the less swollen limb.
Relieved that everything seemed to be healing well, in fact better than he had dared hope, Sam said exactly that to his patient.
“Ya musta lived a righteous life, Jess, or else the devil looks after his own. Your real lucky, everything seems to be healing well. Including that area around your back that looked to be badly infected.”
His face pale from the effort of not showing the distress Sam’s ministrations were causing, Jess managed a weak smile. “Just lucky I guess. So how long till I can travel, do ya reckon?”
“Like I said before, another three days at least, Jess. I know your burnin’ to git to town. Lord knows I’d be the same, but that eagerness could kill ya. The wounds just barely closed. It and you’ve got a mite more healing to do yet.” Sam stood and without giving Jess a chance to push for a more welcome answer, took the soiled dressings out to rinse through in the stream. He strung them out in the sun to dry and returned to talk to Jess.
“Anything makin’ sense to ya yet.” Sam needed to know just what, if anything, Jess was managing to recall.
When the response was a negative shake of the head, he didn’t know whether to feel relieved or not.
He noted that Jess’ eyes had grown heavy and he was fighting to stay awake. “Go ahead and sleep, Jess, it’s the best thing right now. Your body needs ta heal and make more blood. It’ll do that better with more rest.”
“You sure ya ain’t been to Doctoring school, cause you sure sound as if ya did?” Jess forced out, still fighting to stay awake. “Feel like I’ve been sleeping forever, I got no right to still be sleepy.”
A soft laugh escaped Sam. “Don’t think there’s anyone around to call you out on that, ‘ceptin me of course, and I’m the one telling you to get some more rest.”
As Jess finally lost his battle to stay awake, Sam thought he was safe to answer the question Jess had asked. “As for Doctoring, I only wish I’d ever get the chance. I’d like nothing better’n to help people get well.”
Exhausted as he was, Jess heard the quiet reply but was unable to force his mouth to work. To himself, he acknowledged that he hoped Sam would get his wish.
While Jess slept, Sam collected more firewood, refilled the canteen and made more stew with the rest of the hare. The basic housekeeping done, he headed off into the woods on foot, searching for the first branches that he would need to build the travois. On this first trip he managed to locate two long, strong branches that he could shape to form the supporting poles for the contraption. Although it was a struggle with only a pocketknife, he managed to cut them down and drag them back to the cave.
Over the next hour, with Jess still sleeping, Sam worked on the stoutest branch of the two, whittling it slowly away, until it was relatively smooth and had no protruding branches to catch the ground or cause injury. Satisfied it was as good as it was going to get, he set it aside, banked up the fire and put a pot of coffee on to boil.
Jess was roused back to semi wakefulness by a hand gently shaking his left shoulder and the smell of fresh coffee. “Come on Jess, got some fresh coffee and more stew for ya.”
Blinking his eyes to clear the sleep, Jess finally woke enough to accept Sam’s help to sit upright. He took the coffee gratefully and eyed the plate of stew Sam placed nearby. “Don’t seem I’ve been asleep that long. What you trying to do? Fatten me up for the kill.”
Jess’ voice held a hint of laughter, but Sam’s reply was serious. “Food gives ya strength and you’re gonna need all the strength you can muster if’n your gonna make it to Laramie with that sense of humor o’yours intact.” Sam rose to leave, and Jess hesitated, trying to work out just what he had said or done that had upset the young man.
“Aw Hell, Sam. I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m mighty grateful for what you done for me.”
“I ain’t offended, Jess. Just got a lot of things to do. You finish up that stew and get some more sleep. The fires banked up and canteens full. There’s no reason fer ya to be tryin’ to move around. When I get back I expect to see you exactly where ya are now. Understand?”
His eyes fixed on the ground; Jess’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Can’t just lie here doin nothing, gotta move around sometimes ya know.”
Sam was about to give a firm negative response when he saw the slight flush creeping up Jess’ neck. Realizing just what Jess was referring to he walked back to the embarrassed man, extending his hand.
“Sorry. I guess there are some things ya gotta move around for. I’ll help you up.”
It was an ordeal for Jess, but with Sam’s help he made it to just outside the confines of the cave. The daylight assaulted his eyes, but after a minute they adjusted enough to allow him to see. Sam left him leaning against a tree and walked of a few feet to give the embarrassed man some privacy. Keeping his eyes narrowed against the suns glare, Jess struggled with one hand but eventually managed to get the job done.
Feeling more comfortable now that he had answered nature’s call, Jess started to move away from the support of the tree trunk, back towards the cave. Two faltering steps were all he managed before the weakness hit him and he felt the world begin to spin. His knees started to buckle beneath him and with a low groan he felt himself sink towards the ground.
Sam was there, holding him up before he hit it. Practically carrying the weakened man back to the blankets, Sam gently eased Jess back down, He was very tempted to say ‘I told ya so’ but instead he handed the canteen to Jess and asked “Are you alright now?” the concern was evident in his voice.
“Fine, but I reckon I w-will get s-some sleep now. D–didn’t expect it to be such h–hard work.”
Laughter took the edge off Sam’s voice as he replied. “Ya sure are a stubborn cuss, aren’t you? Whoever ya family are, they must have their hands full with you at times.”
The sense of loss the mention of his family brought to Jess hit him hard, but he tried to hide it, replying softly, “I hope to find out someday soon.”
Sam saw the pain in the emotive blue eyes, even as he realized just what he had said. He wished he could take the words back but it was too late, so instead he headed out again. “Just get some rest and let yourself heal, Jess. I’ll make sure you get back to yer folk as soon as is possible.” Then Sam was gone, hastening to return to the shack before the outlaws became suspicious of his prolonged absence.
Arriving back at the shack as dusk was falling, Sam hastily stabled the horses and headed in, bracing himself for whatever attacks his brother would throw at him when he entered.
Cautiously he paused outside, listening for raised voices that would tell him to be prepared for another beating. Strangely, all he could hear was muffled snores. Opening the door as quietly as he could, Sam was pleasantly surprised to find yet another pile of empty whisky bottles and both men stretched out on the bunks asleep. ’Musta worked out their plan and got themselves all fired up and drunk in celebration’ he thought.
He let out the breath he had been holding and quietly set about making his own preparations for sleep. It had been a long day, tiring in more ways than one, and the next few days looked likely to be worse. Exhausted by he hard days work, and worn down by his worry and concern for Jess’ health and his safety, he was soon asleep. He failed to notice Mace’s eyes as they had followed him around the room, hooded and burning with curiosity and scheming.
Chapter 13
Had it been only three days since Slim had retuned to the ranch? To Daisy and Mike, in fact to the man himself, it felt like an eternity off pain had passed, and the end was nowhere in sight.
Escorted by Mort, who insisted on accompanying him back to the ranch, no doubt to ensure Slim actually did return home, Slim had come back to what felt like an empty building.
Despite the support of Daisy and the need to give Mike comfort, Slim continued to move automatically, keeping to a rigid routine of jobs. He never stopped to rest, because stopping meant you had time to think and thinking just heightened the pain of loss again.
When they had arrived back, the slump of Slims shoulders had told Daisy all she needed to know. She had listened to Mort as he said the search would continue when he sent out fresh men on his return to Laramie, but all the while her eyes had been fixed on Slim, sat with his head buried in his hands.
She had longed to go to him and offer words of comfort, but what could she say when she couldn’t find the words to lessen her own pain. Despite Mort’s attempts to assure her there was still a chance to find Jess alive, she knew the truth to be otherwise.
Later that night Slim had rallied enough to tell Mike as gently as he could that Jess was lost to them. Mike had been silent at first, and then, crying loudly that it wasn’t true, that his big brother would be back, he had broken from Slims grasp and ran to his room.
Though distraught himself, Slim had moved to follow and offer what comfort he could, but Daisy had snatched at his sleeve and held him back. “ Let him cry awhile, sometimes tears can help,” she had said, her own eyes filling and beginning to spill over. She had made Mike a cup of warm milk, and a few minutes she later carried it in to him, and sat with the sobbing boy. Mike had literally cried himself to sleep that night and each night since.
It had taken three days for Daisy to feel brave enough to enter the bedroom Jess had shared with Slim. The first night he had come back, Slim had slept on the couch and then moved in with Mike after that. Just as with Daisy, the pain of seeing Jess’ bed with his discarded cloths still on it, was too much to withstand.
Now she forced herself to look around, tidying the bed and collecting Jess’ clothes from the drawers. Earlier in the day Mort had stopped by to say that the last of the second search party had returned, with no news of Jess. Her mind had finally given up its tenuous hold on hope and accepted that her middle son would not be coming home.
She held each of Jess’ possessions tenderly, as if she held a baby, allowing herself to feel his lingering presence in the room, and then slowly she folded each item and laid it in the small valise laid open on the bed. Though it tore her up to do it, she knew it had to be done Since Slim had stormed out of the house shortly after Mort had arrived the job fell to her.
Slim was angry at the suggestion that Mort had made regarding a small funeral service for Jess. “We ain’t even got his body, Mort. What are we supposed to bury?” Slim had shouted, and then practically ran out, slamming the door behind him.
Mort knew the anger wasn’t really for him and recognized that Slim needed time to heal a little more, but Daisy had realized that a service at which they could at least lay Jess’ spirit to rest, may well begin the healing process. So here she was, tidying away Jess’ belongings whilst she waited for Slim to return.
‘It hasn’t taken long really’ Daisy thought as she placed the faded blue shirt lovingly down and shut the lid. ‘If only one could shut the pain from your heart as easily’ she stifled a sob that threatened to escape at that last thought, then looked around to check she had everything.
Jess had come to the ranch with just his horse and the shirt on his back a few short years ago, but in those years, he had won the hearts of the folk at the Sherman ranch and gained himself a family. Jess hadn’t been a man for material possessions, as he had confided to Daisy once, he had a family, a home and folk who cared what happened to him and as far as Jess was concerned that meant he had the greatest possessions of all.
As Daisy returned to the kitchen, she heard the front door open again and she recognized the heavier footsteps of Slim as he returned to the cabin. She didn’t say anything at first, but she rescued the pot of water that was always on the boil, ready to make coffee. It had become a ritual in the household, given that Jess never seemed to stop drinking it. She caught herself even as she let the thought tug at her heart and bring tears to her eyes. Right now, she must be strong for all their sakes. Drying her eyes on her apron, she poured two cups of coffee and carried them into the living room, setting one down on the table in front of Slim.
She sat herself down opposite and sipped her coffee, giving her oldest ‘son’ time to compose his thoughts and say what she knew he must. Her quiet presence finally reached the hurting man and he turned pained eyes towards her. “Sometimes I feel like my souls been torn out of me, Daisy. Please, tell me how I go on?”
“You go on because you have to, Slim. Mike needs you now, more than ever. I need you too. You’ve pulled back into yourself and I feel like I’ve lost both my boys. Please, Slim, come back to us.” Her voice was whisper soft as she spoke; choking back her own tears that threatened to fall once more.
“How, Daisy? How do you do it? Every time I close my eyes, I see his face in those last moments. I keep trying to understand why he just let go, gave up like that. Didn’t he trust me to save him?” Slim’s voice cracked at the end and his own tears spilled over.
Reaching across the table, the surrogate mother placed her small hand on top of his. She squeezed his gently, offering what little strength and re-assurance she had. “He did it for you, for Mike and me. You know Jess, he didn’t give up on you, he gave you the chance to live, to be there for us, when he thought he wouldn’t be able to be. Be proud of him Slim and honor what he did for us all. He gave his life willingly so that we could go on, so that Mike could live and continue to grow up in a family that loves him.”
Slim saw the truth of it in her gentle eyes, and squeezed her hand in return. Swallowing hard he swiped his hand across his eyes before he trusted himself to speak again. “All right Daisy. I’ll do what I have to, just be there for me when I falter.”
“I’ll always be here, Slim, for you and Mike,” she reassured. She hesitated before continuing. In many ways, what she had to say next was going to be the hardest thing of all. “Slim, you know, deep down that we have to finish this. We need to accept that Jess isn’t coming back to us. We need to somehow draw a line, an end to this part of our lives before we can move forward.”
A lesser woman would have cringed back at the anger that flared in Slim’s eyes for a moment, but she recognized it was not directed at her, but at a cruel world in general. She watched silently as Slim struggled to bring that anger under control before he replied.
“You think Mort is right, don’t you Daisy?” he managed to say between clenched teeth.
“Yes I do, Slim. If we can’t do it for our own sakes, we must think of Mike. Until we ‘bury’ Jess, Mike is not going to accept that we have lost him for good. He’s too young to cope with this not knowing. I think a funeral to honor our Jess’ memory will help him move on in his life.” To herself she added ‘And I think it will help you too’.
Slim dipped his head, fixing his eyes on the tabletop, fearing to meet her pained face, in case it opened the flood gate to his own tightly held back emotions. After what seemed forever, he replied, his voice a forced whisper. “I guess you’re right, Daisy. I’ll speak to Mike after school. I don’t know how I’m going to explain it to him, when I can’t deal with it myself, but it needs to be done.”
“I’ll be here Slim, if you need me. I’ll stay close by,” again she hesitated then continued. “I hope you don’t mind, Slim, but I’ve gathered up Jess’ things, I–I thought—-.” Her strength to say more gave out along with her voice, as she fought against the tears again.
This time Slim took on the role of comforter. “It’s all right Daisy. I’ve been to buried in my own self-pity, when I should have been here for you and Mike.” Slim stood and moved over to the fireplace, then carefully, almost reverently he removed the gun hidden there. It was Jess’ old gun, from before he came to the ranch. The placing of it in the hidden place had been symbolic of his giving up his old life as a gunslinger.
Letting himself hold the gun for a minute, feeling somehow a connection to his adopted brother, Slim finally moved to put it on the table. “Here Daisy, I guess you’d better put this with his cloths.”
“Don’t you want to keep it, Slim? After all it was a part of him,” she questioned.
“No Daisy. It was part of the old Jess, not the man who chose to stay here as part of this family. Besides,” he added, with a wan smile, I’ll always hold him in here.” His right hand tapped his chest, directly over his heart.
Daisy nodded knowing exactly how he felt. She picked up the gun and stood, intending to put it in the valise, along with Jess’ other meager belongings, but the note of pain in Slims voice stopped her as he spoke again. “I’ll ride into Laramie tomorrow and make the arrangements. Did you know, Daisy, Jess spoke to me once about family and dying. He asked if I would mind if he was buried up on the hill, near my parents. He said he’d like to keep an eye on us all after he’d passed on.”
“What did you say to him, Slim?” although Daisy already knew the answer, she had to ask.
“I told him I’d be honored to have him there, where else would we put family. He got that shy, gentle look on his face and I swear his eyes misted over, but he’d have laid into me if I so much as hinted that I’d noticed.” Tears where spilling openly now down both their cheeks.
Slim reached out and pulled Daisy into a comforting hug. “I just didn’t think I’d be fulfilling my promise to him so soon, Daisy.”
After a minute during which they drew strength from each other, they moved apart. Daisy found her voice first. “Slim, I know we haven’t found his body, but perhaps we should—?” her eyes fixed on the gun in her hand.
Nodding Slim said the rest for her.” We need to put something in the ground. I think it would be symbolic if we placed his things there. I’ll carve a box to place them in, and I’d like to carve the marker to, a sort of last gift to him, as small thing compared to all the happiness he has given us.”
“I wish we had found his body, Slim, but I think what your saying will be a nice gesture.” The small woman managed to force out past the constriction in her throat.
“So do I, Daisy, but I guess that ain’t gonna happen now. I think we’ll set the date for five days from now. That will give me time to get the carving done. I don’t want to spoil it by rushing. I want it to be just right. What do you think, Daisy?”
“That sounds fine, Slim, but isn’t that Friday, the day before that payroll run is due.” Daisy asked, concerned for yet another extra stress on the devastated young rancher.
“I know Daisy, but it can’t be helped. I need to do this. We need to do this. If I wait till after the run, I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold myself together, let alone hold this family together. You were right when you said we need to draw a line and move on. I’ll never forget him, none of us will, but we have to think of the living and move forward.” Slim headed to the door. “I’m going to see to the stock in the barn. I’ll be back by the time Mike comes back.” Then he was gone, leaving Daisy still studying Jess’ gun, before she carefully placed it in the case.
The next few days were far from easy at the ranch. Mike had withdrawn into himself even further, eating little and being uncharacteristically quiet. Daisy and Slim knew that was to be expected under the circumstances, but still it was hard to see him like that and be unable to help.
Daisy had been extra loving, finding that lavishing her attention on the young boy helped her thoughts from straying into more hurtful areas. As the day of the funeral approached, she washed and pressed their best clothes and brought extra provisions for the small wake that would be held at the ranch. They hadn’t intended the funeral to be anything other than a family affair. But after so many towns folk had come by give their condolences and offer their help, they felt they too should be allowed to say their farewells to the man they so obviously thought such a lot off. So now the small service they had planned was looking to be a busy affair.
The hardest day of all for Daisy and Mike so far had been the day they had gone into town. Whilst it warmed her heart to see the number of people who so genuinely would miss Jess, she found herself wondering if Jess had ever realized how much he was respected and loved by the community. Perhaps the hardest thing of all was that he probably hadn’t known and would have been extremely embarrassed to know it. Now he never would have that chance.
Slim had kept busy with the ranch work, and carving the casket and marker, but he still made every effort to spend time with Mike. He had asked the small boy if he wanted to help with the carving, thinking that it might help if Mike could feel he had contributed to the family’s farewell to Jess. Mike had said no at first but had sat watching as Slims whittling knife worked its magic. Seeing the beautiful work of love take shape, Mike had picked up a small branch and with Slims help, had managed to create a crude carving of a horse. As rough as it was, it was made wonderful by the love that had been expressed in its creation. Mike had asked if he could place it on the grave on the day of the funeral and Slim had replied that he was sure Jess would be honored by the act.
The pain was still there, as deep and sharp as ever, but somehow the act of preparing for the funeral seemed to soften the edges, enabling them to cope. The three-remaining people at the Sherman ranch slowly, each in their own time, came to accept that Jess would always be part of their lives. The pain of his loss would always be there, they would learn to cope and life would go on, simply because it had to.
Not so very far away, the man they thought lost to them forever was fighting to regain his life, both physically and emotionally. For a few days now, Sam had come and gone, spending as much time as he could with Jess without putting him at risk of discovery. He made sure Jess was fed and his wounds kept clean and free from infection.
Sam escaped to the cave under the pretense of keeping the horses in good condition and checking his traps to ensure fresh meat in the pot. His two companions appeared not to notice, spending most of their time gambling with each other, or drinking in celebration of their plan. Sam was aware of the basic plan for the robbery now, but knew Tom was not happy about it, so that gave him another reason for avoiding his brothers company as much as possible.
When Sam was at the cave and while Jess was sleeping, Sam would work on the travois. It was coming along well, and Sam felt he would have it finished within three days of his first starting it.
When Jess was awake Sam would help him exercise his arm and gently began to encourage Jess to start walking a little. It was only a few steps and weak as he was he still leaned most of his weight on Sam, but it was a start. Hopefully, with no evidence of infection, Jess would be well enough to stand a chance of surviving the journey to Laramie in another day’s time.
On a few of the times that Jess had been awake, but too tired or in too much pain to do anything more active than talk, Sam had simply sat and listened as Jess had tried to sort out the confused scraps of memory he had. Sam only knew what he had gathered from his brother’s hate driven stories, and he wouldn’t reveal them to his new friend, for fear of adding to his emotional pain and confusion.
Given the circumstances, Sam was actually beginning to think things had a chance of working out. Jess was slowly getting better and should be fit enough to travel in time to get to Laramie for Sam to warn the Sheriff of the robbery plan.
His careful covering of his tracks and eagerness to help in the plans for the robbery seemed to have Mace and his brother fooled. Inevitably Sam relaxed and got careless. He failed to notice the sidelong glances Mace was giving him when he came and went from the cabin. Then he made the biggest mistake of all, he believed Mace when he told him that he and Tom where heading out to Laramie to see if there was any gossip in the town about the expected payroll, and would be gone all day and that night.
This would be it, Sam decided. The travois was all but completed, Jess was a lot stronger and aided by the whiskey Sam could easily take from the cabin when the two had gone, he would be able to get Jess fixed up and ready to head to Laramie. He would have to take the lower road once across the river, so as to avoid meeting his brother and Mace should they return early, this way he would have Jess safe at the Doctors in Laramie before they even knew Sam was missing.
Then lady luck turned her back on him and fate decided to deal him a double blow. He gathered up all his things and headed out to the cave, eager to get the final preparations underway. Walking into the cave, fairly bursting in his eagerness to finally be able to do something more active and to tell Jess that at last they were heading out, he failed to notice how quite the cave was.
Usually at this time, Jess would be awake and would call out a greeting as he recognized the approaching footsteps. When the familiar voice was not heard he thought perhaps Jess was sleeping in, no bad thing considering the hard day ahead.
Walking over to the huddled form on the far side of the cave, he reached down and shook him gently. “Wake up, Jess. We got a big day ahead of us.” He grew alarmed when Jess failed to respond and then he felt the heat beneath his hands and saw the sheen of moisture on the Jess’ unconscious form. Whatever was going on it was obvious Jess was far sicker than when Sam had last seen him, and he wouldn’t be traveling anywhere today or for the next few days for that matter.
Chapter 14
The small fire that had been kept burning against the chill of the cave had long gone out, yet the heat radiating from Jess’ unconscious form was a palpable thing, warming the air around him.
Jess was curled on his left side, so Sam turned him gently over onto his back, noting as he did so the bright red flush on his cheeks starkly contrasting with the rest of his pallid clammy skin. ‘This ain’t good’ Sam said to himself. ‘He’s got a bad infection, but where?’
He started to strip off Jess’ upper cloths as gently as he could. Then he carefully set about removing the bandages. Sam’s concern grew when despite him having to pull hard at some of the dressings where they had stuck to the wounds, Jess remained limp and unresponsive.
‘Don’t do this to me, Jess, not when I’m so close ta getting ya home.’ Sam’s thoughts raced on as he worked. The only thing indicating that Jess was still alive was the shallow rise and fall of his chest and the harsh rasp of air in his throat.
Working to check each wound for signs of infection, he even went as far as removing the splints from Jess’ right arm. As he redressed it, he was not happy with the only conclusion he had come to that would account for his patients worsening condition in the short time since he’d last visited.
Having eliminated every other possibility, Sam had to accept that the thing he had feared from the start had happened. He leant down, placing his ear against Jess’ chest, and tuning out the rapid, unsteady heartbeat, he heard the tight wheeze of lungs struggling to draw in air.
It would appear that Jess’ lungs, damaged by the water he had breathed in from the river, where tight and congested. Sam had seen a younger cousin suffer the same fate after falling in a pond. He had watched the doctor help his aunt fight for the young boy’s life, but it had all been in vain. Charlie had always been sickly and the pneumonia killed him in the end, despite everything that had been done.
Sitting back on his heels, Sam thought through his options. He realized that to move Jess now would be to kill him, just as surely as leaving him to go for help. Resigning himself to battle all over again for the life of this man, no longer a stranger, he rose to fetch a plentiful supply of water from the stream.
It was a long hard battle, constantly sponging down the sweat-covered body, fighting to keep his temperature down. Sam vividly remembered his cousin, recalling the small body becoming rigid and suddenly jerking under the doctor’s hands. A fit the doctor had called it, brought on by the high fever. It was not long after that the boy had died.
He worked tirelessly for what felt like hours. Whenever Jess roused enough, He forced water into his mouth urging him to drink. It was obvious at those times that Jess was lost in fever dreams again and didn’t recognize who Sam was.
When Jess’ temperature finally seemed to drop, it did so far to rapidly for Sam’s liking. Under Sam’s caring hands, Jess’ skin became cold, his hands felt like blocks of ice and his body started to shake as fine tremors racked his body. Rapidly Sam grabbed all the blankets and wrapped them around the shivering man. He banked up the fire and then returned to Jess.
Jess’ breathing was now harsher, a moist rattle sounding with each breath, and weak coughs shook his body as his lungs struggled to clear themselves enough to allow life-giving air in.
Sam sat behind and to the side of Jess and lifted him up so Jess could lean back against him. He hoped to ease his breathing by sitting him up more. Sam could feel the lean body shaking with the cold still, despite the blankets, so he removed his own jacket and wrapped it around Jess, pulling Jess’ shivering body close in and wrapping his arms around him, offering his own bodies warmth.
Though eventually the tremors eased a little, Sam was extremely concerned by the continually worsening rattles he could feel vibrating through Jess’ body with each breath he took. Though the coughs were stronger now that he was sitting more upright, they obviously pained him due to the broken ribs and still nothing was moving. Sam’s memory was good and he knew the doctor had said that his cousin needed to clear the muck from his lungs if he were to stand a chance of pulling through. He was pretty certain the same held true for Jess.
As another spasm of coughing shook the thin body, Sam held Jess firmly, trying to support him against the waves of pain that accompanied the coughing. The pain roused Jess from his stupor and as he gasped and sucked at the precious air, trying to stop the next wave of coughing that threatened to take him. He realized that Sam was holding him, offering his strength against the threatening darkness.
“S–Sam?” his voice was more an escape of air than a word, but Sam heard him.
“Yeah, Jess?”
“C—cold. Can’t s–stop shaking. W–What’s wrong w–with me?” Jess managed to force out between chattering teeth, before the hacking coughing started again. This time the coughing didn’t seem to settle and Jess found himself fighting for breath against a throat that felt like it was closing up. His mind swirled with memories of the river and breathing water.
Recognizing that Jess was struggling to draw air, Sam pulled him forwards and started first rubbing and then hitting him between his shoulder blades, trying to help clear the obstruction to his breathing.
Suddenly Jess was retching and heaving while trying frantically to hold his ribs as each spasm felt like it would tear him apart. The spasm finally settled, leaving Jess wretched and drained. He had lost the small amount of water Sam had managed to get into him, Sam realized he would have to do more and do it soon. Otherwise it was likely that Jess’ trip into Laramie was going to be permanently deferred.
He moved away from Jess and propped him up as best he could against some rocks. “Jess, I think that river ya tried to swallow has damaged yer lungs. I saw this before. Ya got pneumonia and yer lungs are fillin’ up. We need to get yer lungs clear of the muck.”
Wretched as he felt, Jess was stubborn and a fighter. He focused on Sam’s wavering form and summoned up enough breath to reply. “I–I guess this m–means we ain’t g–gonna t–take that t–trip to L–Laramie today.” The effort cost him dearly as again he started coughing and gasping. This time the spasm settled quickly as his body was unable to find the energy to continue to fight.
Despite the desperate situation Sam found himself smiling. “Nope, I guess not. Maybe tomorrow though.” He helped Jess to take a few swallows of water, pausing between each mouthful to allow him to gasp in air.
When Jess indicated he could manage no more, Sam placed the canteen by Jess’ side and pulled the blankets and the coat up around him, noting that Jess was shivering again. “ Jess, I got me an idea that might help. I remember a doctor telling a relative of mine that breathin’ steam can help loosen congested lungs. I just gotta go fetch a few things. Just hold on tight, I’ll be back real soon.”
Unable to spare the air or the energy to reply, Jess gave a weak nod, and watched silently as Sam left the cave. After that, Jess lost track of time, all of his consciousness going into forcing his agonized body to take its next breath of life-giving air.
Sam took off from the cave, urging his horse back to the cabin. He remembered an old bucket there, and aimed to use it and whatever other containers he could find, to hold water to boil up for steam.
His sense of urgency was so great he neglected to cover his tracks. Sam knew every second counted now, and this was likely his last chance to save Jess’ life. He pushed his horse on at record speed, fairly flying across the ground, his only thought to get the job done.
Behind him the trees appeared to stir with the wind of his passing, then the disturbance increased and two mounted forms came out into the open. Mace had been suspicious of Sam’s comings and goings for some time but had been unable to catch him so far. He had talked to Tom, whose first reaction was to say he would beat the truth out of his brother.
The crafty card sharp had ended up pulling his gun on the enraged man, threatening to shoot him if he didn’t shut up and listen. Mace had kept his gun trained on Tom the whole time he talked, and had only placed it back in his holster when he saw the dawning of understanding in the bully’s eyes.
He carefully spelt out his suspicions regarding Sam’s disappearances, and said he thought that the six-shooter Sam had found was connected to it all. Hinting at his suspicions didn’t seem to get the desired response in Tom, so finally he had literally spelt it out.
“Ya told me your Sam was soft, that he liked to help hurt animals and didn’t hold with killing’”
“Yeah. But he’ll do his part in the robbery ‘cause I say he will, an’ he knows better than to go against me,” Tom had blustered.
“That ain’t what I’m getting at.” The sneer in Mace’s voice didn’t register on the other man. Mace tolerated the bully’s lack of intelligence because it suited his purpose well. “I think he found more than that gun. I think he found the owner too.”
For a moment the statement hadn’t registered with Tom, then his face had flushed with anger and became a cruel mask. “Ya mean he’s got Harper hid away someplace and he ain’t told us. I’ll kill him.”
Despite the gun trained on him, Tom had been so enraged he had started to storm away. Mace had shot the gun into the air, immediately freezing the other man in his tracks and drawing his attention back to Mace. “Sit down and listen. I have a plan and if I’m right, we are gonna walk into that relay station like we owned the place and that payroll will be ours with no trouble at all. They’ll practically hand it to us.”
Tom had sat back down, not because of logical reasoning, but because of the gun and the cold edge to Mace’s voice. His thoughts centered on the torturous revenge he wanted to inflict on his nemesis. If Sam had thwarted him in his revenge, then he intended to take it out of his brother’s hide.
Oblivious to Tom’s bloodthirsty thoughts, Mace had continued to reveal his idea. “The way Sam keeps away from the shack and the way sheets, food and whiskey keep disappearing, I reckon he’s found Harper alive.”
Mace had noted the tension this last statement brought to Tom’s big form, but he had ignored it and carried on. “We got to find where Sam’s got him hid. With him in our hands, those good folk at the relay station are gonna welcome us with open arms.”
Tom had been unable to stand it any longer; he’d jumped up, his meaty hands forming fists. “He’s mine, I tell ya. Ya can have his body when I’m finished. Those folks will want it back as likely as not and that’ll be our way in. But I get the pleasure of killin’ ‘im real slow.”
An exasperated sigh had escaped Mace. He could tell he was going to end up shooting Tom Brading the moment the payroll was in his hands, but right now he needed him, so he had held himself in check and started to painstakingly explain his plan.
“No. Not yet anyways. If Harpers alive, and he mostly likely is, those folk at the ranch will be so taken up with looking after him, they ain’t likely to pay us no never mind. Once the payroll is in our hands, then he’s all yours.” Mace let his own cruel nature show on his face. “Hell, if’n ya think on it, your revenge might be a lot more pleasurable with an audience, ‘specially one that cares like that Sherman fella appeared to do.”
This last statement hit home, and Tom’s anger calmed, as he thought on the possibilities inherent in what Mace had just said. Slowly a sadistic smile replaced the angry frown on his face. “For once, I gotta say I like yer thinkin’. I’ll be able ta take my time over it, with all the comforts of home whilst I kill him real slow. Ain’t nothing ta stop me enjoying myself a little with him beforehand either, so long as I let him keep breathing.”
Rubbing his hands in sick anticipation, Tom stood up. “So what are we waiting fer? Lets go.”
Mace had managed to stop him long enough to outline his plan to get Sam to lead them to Harper, and so now here they were, watching Sam’s retreating back before they turned their horses and headed in the opposite direction.
It hadn’t been that difficult really to convince Sam of their intention to go to Laramie The boy had been so desperate for them to not be around, it hadn’t entered his head that his brother and Mace were setting a trap.
Of course, the two outlaws had intended to follow Sam’ tracks to the cave, but had actually lost them on the stony ground he had crossed. It had been pure luck that while they had been crossing back and forth trying to pick up the trail again, they had heard the sound of the fast-approaching horse and retreated into the trees as a precaution.
It had all fallen so neatly into place. They backtracked Sam’s trail at a steady pace, their thoughts dwelling on the satisfactory conclusion to their scheming. Mace lost himself in rivers of money, but Tom’s mind swirled with rivers of blood, pain and revenge.
Chapter 16
Outside, Mace had pushed Sam against the rock wall, his forearm across his throat, exerting just enough pressure to ensure Sam knew he must co-operate.
“Now listen close, Sam. I know you ain’t the idiot ya play for your brother. I’ve been watching every move ya make. That brother of yours is out fer blood, yours and that Harper fellas. Me, I just want to get that payroll and get clean away before the law can catch us. You understand.”
Unable to speak due to the pressure at his throat, Sam nodded, his eyes wide with fear.
“Good. Then if’n you want to save your own life and have a chance of getting Harper away from your brother. Your gonna do exactly as I say from now on.” The lies fell from Maces mouth like melting butter. “You do exactly as I say and I’ll make sure you get a chance to get Harper to safety. Otherwise, I’m gonna give ya both to yer brother and watch while he has his fun. Hell, piss me of enough and I’ll even help Tom take his revenge. I know some real interesting ways that the Comanche use to get prisoners to talk. I reckon Tom would enjoy me demonstrating them on Jess.”
Mace watched as his words sunk in and disgust vied with horror in Sam’s eyes.
“I think you understand me now,” he hissed and released his choking grip on Sam. The young man moved away, rubbing at his abused neck. “Ya said Harper can’t remember anything from before the river?”
Sam nodded weakly. “I found his gun, and from what Tom had said, I figured he must be called Jess Harper. Didn’t know for certain he was THE Jess Harper though, not until Tom recognized him.” Sam still didn’t want to mention the letter or photograph he had found in Jess’s jacket in case it was used as a weapon against Jess.
“You tell him anything other than his name?” Mace wanted more details.
“No. I said how I’d found him and also that my brother was in Laramie on business but couldn’t get back yet due to the floods. That was about it. Don’t even know if he’ll remember that, given as he was in fever deliriums and slippin’ in and out of consciousness’ at the time.” Sam finished, at a loss to know what else Mace wanted to know.
However, Mace was more than satisfied with these answers. The way things were panning out, he was practically going to be able to stroll in and out of the relay Station, collecting the payroll on the way, without any risk to himself at all.
“All right. This is what’s going to happen. Your story is practically the same ‘ceptin you knew Tom was going into Laramie to meet me and to set up the payroll robbery. You also knew that the fourth member was gonna meet us at the cabin but you did’nt know who that was. The storm and floods delayed us all and that, Sam, is all you need to know.” Mace smirked, satisfied with his own genius planning.
“I don’t see how—-?” Sam ventured, and was rewarded by Mace pushing him hard against the rock wall again.
“Are ya really as stupid as you act? By the time I’m finished, Jess boy is gonna believe he’s that fourth gang member, who’s been working at the Relay station this past few months, getting himself settled in and trusted. He’ll be our ticket in there, and then he’ll work willing with us, turning against his own. They won’t know what hit them.”
“Jess wouldn’t do that. He ain’t a killer. He may not know who he is, but he’ll know deep inside himself that he wouldn’t act that way.” Sam desperately argued back, seeking to re-assure himself more than deny the plan.
“Not when I’m through. Hell, I’ll have him believing he’s the one made the plan. Your brothers got a wanted poster on Harper. Ya knew that, didn’t ya?”
Sam denied that Jess could really be wanted, shaking his head angrily. “Jess ain’t wanted. He can’t be.”
“Charges were false and he was cleared, but yer brothers been carrying an old poster around since just after he first met him. Tom say’s it keeps the memory fresh and the hatred stewing. That poster should just about cynch it when I show it to Jess. He’ll be right in there with us, until it’s too late.” Mace glared at Sam daring him to say more.
Unable to stop himself, Sam had to ask one final, last question. “What if he don’t agree to help. What if his memory comes back?”
Mace’s eyes flashed; he’d already looked at that option. “You’d better pray for both yer sakes it don’t. Cause one way or another, willing or not, Jess Harper is going help us get that payroll. If’n I have to force him, I’m not going be happy and Tom will get his heart’s desire right after I get the money.”
Shoulders slumped, Sam gave in to the inevitable. He knew that death at the hands of these two evil men would be slow and painful. After all, he had frequently been forced to listen to his older brothers’ graphic descriptions of what he was going to do to Jess Harper once he caught up with him.
Right now, all Sam could do was go along with what Mace wanted and try and keep Jess alive. Maybe, just maybe, he might get him strong enough to travel and Sam might be able to get him away from this evil pair. He could only bide his time and hope and pray that the opportunity would present itself.
“All right. I’ll do as you say,” he spoke softly, defeat evident in every syllable.
“Good. An’ just remember, I ain’t leavin’ you alone with Harper so don’t get any ideas about warning him,” Mace instructed. He shoved an empty bucket at Sam. “He’s gonna need cleaning up. Go get some fresh water.”
Still reluctant to leave Jess alone with Tom, Sam hesitated, but the glare on Mace’s features told him he had no choice. The quicker he got this done, the sooner he would be back at Jess’ side. He would be a meager protection, to be sure, but better than nothing. He grabbed the bucket and ran towards the stream.
It took only a couple of minutes, but it was enough. If anything convinced him to co-operate in Mace’s plan, it was the sight and sounds that greeted him as he re-entered the cave with the water.
Slamming the bucket down he ran across to Tom. “Let him go,” he commanded, turning blazing eyes on Mace, he continued. “You promised,” he accused.
Jess was hanging from Tom’s meaty fists that were fixed firmly around his broken shoulder. His first initial cry of agony as Tom lifted him, was now reduced to weak low moans of pain as he fought the pain to stay conscious.
“What the hell ya think your doing,” Sam yelled.
Mace gave a curt nod, and with a snicker, Tom released Jess to fall back onto the hard ground. Sam raced across to Jess, lifting him as gently as he could back against the support of the saddle he’d placed nearby. “Easy, Jess. Breathe slow and deep. Ride it out,” he instructed him.
Through the haze of pain, Jess heard a familiar voice, a voice he had come to trust, and he turned towards it, seeking to focus on the face. “S–Sorry. What–what’s going on?” he asked of Sam.
Forced to play the deadly game Mace had set up, Sam did his best to bluff. “It’s okay Jess, my brother’s back. He was just trying to help you.”
Eyes narrowed, Jess’ gaze raked around the cave, searching for, and finally finding the two new faces. Something in his mind recalled them from an earlier time, and a twisting feeling of pain and anger came with the memory. They had been here before, when Sam wasn’t. They had moved him, hurt him and yet, now Sam was here and he knew them. Jess blinked rapidly, trying to clear his fuzzy thoughts.
Stepping forward, Mace smiled down at the injured rancher. “Glad to see your back with us Jess. When Sam told us how bad ya was hurt, well I don’t mind telling you, ya had us scared for a while.”
Brows creased in a frown, Jess glared back, uncertain just what was happening. He recalled Sam saying his brother had gone into Laramie on business, and was likely delayed by the floods, somehow the larger man seemed familiar, but the weasel faced one who had just spoken like he knew him made no connections in his mind.
Sam saw the question in Jess’ clouded eyes. He gestured towards the larger man. “This here is Tom, my older brother.”
Jess left hand reached across to rub his throbbing shoulder. He remembered all too well the pain of being lifted by it.
Tom forced a smile. “Sorry about that. Ya was choking and coughing something fierce. I had ta get ya upright. Reckon these big hands of mine ain’t as careful as my younger brothers.” Tom lied through his teeth, enjoying the pain and confusion showing all to clearly on Jess’ pinched features.
Jess recalled the hacking, coughing fits and the feeling of choking he’d had during his brief moments of clarity during the fever. Something sat wrong with him, but he looked at Sam, and trusting him, if nothing else, he nodded his acceptance of what was said.
Seeing the clarity in his victim’s eyes now as he considered things, Mace made the first step in his plan. “Boy, am I glad to see you looking better. You gave me a real scare, old friend. Got me to thinking how lost we’d be without your planning and doing the groundwork for us. Not to mention I’d miss your cussin’ face.”
Jess raised his eyebrows questioningly, and cocked his head at Sam. This man was acting like they were old friends, real old friends, yet other than the incongruous fever memory, Jess couldn’t place him. Jess did have more to go on with Sam’s brother though. He had an uncertain recollection of a younger version and angry arguing about a robbery, but that could mean anything.
Despite the apology, Jess couldn’t shake the feeling of malice behind the man’s actions. Again, with a mind of it’s own Jess’s left hand moved to support his right arm.
This time Sam stepped in, worried in case Tom’s ‘accident’ had caused the bones to move out of alignment. “You’ve been moving around a lot when you were fighting the fever, and the coughing can’t have helped your broken ribs much. I need to check your over”.
As Sam worked, being as gentle as he could, Mace started to talk again. “Sam says you ain’t remembering a lot right now. You remember Tom and me don’t you, Jess boy?”
Jess’ cloudy eyes showed he didn’t, but there was something about Tom’s face that struck a chord in his broken memories. “I think we’ve met before, just can’t get a handle on it,” he finally responded, sucking in his breath sharply as Sam moved his right arm forward so he could check the healing cut.
Ignoring the others obvious discomfort, Mace laughed loudly, “ Hell, boy, you always was a joker, weren’t he, Tom? Here you bin robbing stages with us clear across the west, and you just planned out our biggest job yet, and you say you think we met before!” Mace laughed again, a harsh, false sound, but Jess, hurting and confused, seemed not to notice.
Jess’ heart raced, driven by the fact that Mace had just confirmed his worse fears. He was a wanted man, and robbery was certainly on his list of crimes. What else had he been a willing party to? Jess was naturally a man with an inherent sense of right and wrong, and his subconscious was having difficulty marrying Mace’s story with how he felt.
He turned to Sam, seeking the answer in the eyes of the man who had twice now saved his life. Sam’s eyes where hooded, focused on Jess’ shoulder as he worked.
“How c-come you ain’t m–mentioned this, S-Sam?” he prompted.
Put on the spot, knowing his answer could carry a high cost; Sam struggled to give a convincing answer. “I knew Tom and Mace were expecting their partner, but I ain’t met him before. You coulda’ been anyone for all I knew. Didn’t even know this partners name. This is my first time with them on a job, so I reckon they ain’t thought to tell me much. I just do as I’m told.”
Unable to seek verification in Sam’s eyes, Jess had no choice but to accept the explanation, though it didn’t sit right with him.
“Hell, boy, ya don’t look so pleased to hear that. Don’t ya go soft on us. I’m a telling ya, you’s the worst of us. Here,” Tom reached in his pocket and pulled out a carefully folded, but old piece of paper. He held it out to Jess, who took it reluctantly.
Slowly, almost fearing to look, in case of what it would reveal, Jess unfolded the flyer. His eyes remained locked on Tom’s, not liking what he saw there, but unable to remember anything that would call doubt to what the repulsive man was claiming.
It took a real effort to draw his eyes down to the paper in his now trembling hand. He forced his hands to remain still, overriding the combined effects of his exhausted body and anxious mind. His own name, if his current companions were to be believed, leapt out at him, along with a hefty reward. Apparently, he was wanted for robbery. Inside, Jess was relieved that it didn’t say murder, but he noted that it was an old poster, so it remained a distant possibility that haunted him.
A wave of nausea and weakness swept over him, brought on by a combination of illness and mental disgust at himself. Somehow it just didn’t sit right that he was a wanted man, but he was too tired to think clearly right now.
Seeing the already pale features lose what little color they had, Sam decided it was time to interfere. He had finished checking Jess over and was satisfied that by some miracle, no more damage had been done.
“Here, Jess,” he thrust a canteen at him, alarmed to note that the hand that reached for it was trembling again. “That’s enough talking for now. You need to rest.”
Mace needed Harper alive if his plan was to have the best chance of succeeding. The seeds of doubt had been planted, and now the conviction that he was a part of the gang would grow, carefully nurtured by Tom and himself.
“He’s right Jess, boy. You get some rest. There’ll be time later to go over the details of your plan. We need you strong enough to do your part when the time comes.” Mace turned to Tom. “You and me got things to do, let’s go,” he instructed. Then he turned to Sam, his voice carrying a cold edge. “You remember what I said Sam, take good care of Jess, ya hear. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to our boy, now would we.”
Sam gave a brief nod, all too aware of what Mace meant. It would do no good to try and tell Jess the truth right now. They had no hope of escape at this time, and Jess, confused and semi delirious would likely make little sense of Sam denying what he had only minutes ago confirmed. Worse, if Jess did believe Sam, sick as he was, he might slip up and reveal that he knew they were lying.
Either situation gave a bleak outlook at the moment, so Sam decided to bide his time and try not to either refute or enforce the fabrication Mace was weaving.
“Best you rest now, Jess.” Sam steadied the canteen for him, pressing the mouth to the tired man’s lips and raising his head slightly with his other hand. He noted with satisfaction, that although Jess remained as white as a sheet, the fever had not returned.
Gratefully Jess drank deeply, his body trying to replace the fluid lost to the raging fever earlier. He was forced to stop when his lungs needed to draw in air, and he sank back gasping, his drawn features reflecting his ordeal of the previous days.
Forcing his heavy eyes to remain open, Jess tried to put his fears into words, seeking clarification from the only one he felt he could trust right now.
“ S—something’s wrong,” Jess slurred his words as exhaustion clutched at him. “D—don’t f–feel r—right.” Every word leeched at his strength, but he had to get an answer. He gasped in air, unable to sustain talking.
“What? Are you hurting, what’s not right?” Sam asked, deliberately misunderstanding the statement.
“N–no, me. D–don’t feel l—like o–outlaw. D–Don’t trust h–him.” Jess fell back limply, finally giving in to his body’s demands to rest. His eyes rolled back in his head as he passed out.
Sam rapidly checked Jess over, relieved to find him breathing, if only shallowly. Gradually Jess’ breathing deepened as he settled into a more restful healing sleep. Rolling his shoulders, Sam let the tension drop from himself. Fate had intervened and spared him having to answer Jess’ unspoken question, but sooner or later Sam was going to have to make a choice.
Just outside of hearing distance Sam’s brother was feeling, for somewhat different reasons, as equally frustrated as Sam.
“Don’t see why it has to be me. For that matter, don’t see why we need to bother at all, ” he said sullenly.
Mace’s voice was low, carrying a subtle warning. “I done told you why Harper is important to us, so’s I don’t intend to say it again. I want you to head into Laramie and get some supplies, good meat, fresh bandages and some laudanum. You can check out the general situation and see if you can pick up anything useful on the payroll run.”
What Mace didn’t say was that he wouldn’t trust Tom if he was left alone with his brother and Harper. Grumbling at being used as a lackey. Tom made one last objection. “ It doesn’t sit well to be spending our money on medicine and food for Harper. We don’t need him healthy or even alive to get access to the Ranch.”
“Yer right, but alive he’s going to take all the attention those caring folk at the relay station can give. It’ll make it a whole lot easier and safer for us. The real surprise, if we can keep Harper convinced, he’s one of us, will be when he’s the one that takes control and leads the robbery.” Mace’s face was tight and his voice reflected his anger as he had to justify himself again and spell out the details of the plan.
Tom’s smile was evil as he replied. “Yeah, reckon that’s gonna be real sweet. Those good folk won’t be able to do anything, having to choose between saving the payroll or savin’ their friend. I reckon it’s gonna be fun at that. All right, I’ll do it. Where do ya want me to meet you,” he questioned.
“The shack, tomorrow,” came the simple response.
“Ya figurin’ on movin’ him today?” Tom nodded towards the cave.
“Nope, it’ll be tomorrow more n’ likely, if his fever stays away.”
Satisfied, Tom moved away, heading towards his horse and Laramie. Mace stood and watched him go. Once sure he was on his way, he turned and hurried back into the cave, not wanting to leave Sam alone with Harper for any length of time. He knew the boy had been lying to them these past few days and would betray them in a second if he thought he could get away with it.
A deep restful oblivion claimed Jess for the rest of that day and night. Periodically Sam would rouse him enough to get him to take water and on one occasion a few mouthfuls of broth.
Sam supported his head and Jess drank almost on reflex as the liquid filled his mouth, barely acknowledging Sam’s presence, though his body ached and pained him, his exhausted mind refused to acknowledge it, escaping into a healing sleep most of the time.
Even if Sam had been able to rouse Jess enough to warn him against Mace, the man in question had remained close by all the time. At every opportunity Mace had planted further evidence of Jess’ supposed long association with the outlaws.
Despite Jess’ stupor, Mace knew that some of what he said would register at a deeper level and in the sick man’s vulnerable and confused state it would easily become accepted as a true memory.
When Mace had insisted that Sam sleep, Sam had been reluctant to comply at first. However, realizing there was little he could do at present, he had finally succumbed to his own bodies need to rest. He reasoned that his chance might come later and he needed to be awake and alert when that opportunity came. At least he knew he could trust Mace to keep Jess alive for now, as it suited his purpose for the present.
It was mid-morning the following day when Jess finally seemed to come round fully, his mind clear and functioning. He came awake suddenly, his eyes flickering around the all-too-familiar interior of the cave. Finally they settled on Sam, who was over by the fire stirring something, and from the smell of it, it was broth.
“S–Sam?” Jess tried his voice and found it a mere dry whisper of its normal self. Sam heard him regardless and turned towards him. He smiled to see the clarity in Jess’ eyes, and picking up a canteen of water, came over to him. “Here,” he said. “Drink this before you try to speak again.”
Obediently Jess did as he was told and took a long drink of the welcome fluid. Sam was pleased to note the steady hand that held the canteen and reaching out he placed a hand on Jess’ forehead. It felt cool. All traces of the previous fever were gone. As long as Jess took things slow and easy he should heal well now.
Jess tried again to speak and this time his voice sounded much more like it belonged to him. “How l-long have I been out of it?” he asked
“Almost another day and a half,” Sam replied. “But I think we’ve got it beat now, providing you go slow and do as yer’ told.”
Jess gave a wry smile. A voice that he couldn’t put a name to echoed in his head, from some other time and place, giving him a gentle reprimand for never being a good patient. He brought his mind back to the present, searching for the missing pieces causing his continuous headache to grow. He nodded to Sam, signaling his compliance with his advice, He knew how close this accident had come to claiming his life, and for once he would do whatever it took to ensure he didn’t relapse again. At least, not until he knew for certain who he was, for better or worse.
Mace was outside at the moment, answering natures call, and Sam was trying to broach the subject of Mace and Tom, trying to gauge just how much Jess had taken in of Mace’s fabrications.
“Jess?” he questioned, “Just what do you remember about Mace and Tom, or anything for that matter?”
Hesitating, Jess tried to sort through his recollections, attempting to separate reality from delirium, with little success.
“I reckon some things seem familiar,” he eventually replied, with a wry smile. “That wanted poster for a start. You don’t get something like that out on you unless you done wrong. I just can’t remember what or when. Maybe you know?”
Sam shook his head negatively. “Sorry, I only know Tom and Mace had a partner. Didn’t even know what he looked like, or even his name fer certain. This is the first time Tom has brought me along on one of his business ventures.”
Aware that Mace had re-entered the cave at the sound of voices, Sam had reversed tactics for both their sakes. He tactfully avoided the issue of Jess’ true identity.
“Glad to see your back with us, Jess, boy. Ya had us scared for a while last night. How you feeling now?” Mace faked concern, his only real interest in Jess’ health being his ability to play his part in pulling of the plan.
“I’ve been b-better, but been a lot worst too,” came the honest reply.
“Good. Then I think we should be movin’ you to the shack There’s only a few more days to the job, and we can take better care of ya back there.”
Unsure of just how he should respond to that statement, especially as he could recall nothing of the job Mace mentioned, Jess glanced at Sam, hoping for some clue as to how to reply. He found Sam’s face carefully blank and finally said the least harmful thing he could think of.
“I should make it alright, I r-reckon. You might want to fill m–me in on just what the plan is. It’s s-still kinda hazy.”
“I’ll bet it is, boy,” Mace slapped Jess on his good shoulder, as if sharing a good joke. Jess winced as much from the blow as from the way Mace kept referring to him as boy. Mace either didn’t notice or chose to ignore Jess’ reaction as he continued on. “You sure got yourself banged up good this time. You remember anything much yet?” Mace hedged for further information.
Jess dragged his good hand across his eyes, clearing his blurry vision and gaining time before he had to answer. “Vague things, pictures and faces. Names that mean nothing but stir up emotions. Everything is disjointed.” He was reluctant to say more, wanting to keep what memories he had managed to capture to himself. He needed time to clarify them and make sense of what little he had recalled.
“Not to worry. I’ll fill you in once we’re back at the shack. Tom will meet us there, probably later today.” Mace dismissed any further discussion, happy for now that it appeared Jess remained a lost soul, pliable and easy to turn to his use.
Turning to Sam, Mace continued. “Go get that travois hitched to a horse. I’ll help Jess to get to it once it’s ready.”
When Sam remained standing, reluctant to abandon Jess, Mace frowned and snapped at him. “Stop daydreaming boy and get a move on. I ain’t got all day.”
Finally, with an encouraging smile at Jess, Sam went to do as he was instructed. He worked quickly, knowing that while he was away, Mace would be weaving his web of lies, binding an unknowing Jess to his will. Satisfied at last that the travois was secure, he returned to find Mace helping an extremely weak Jess to find his feet.
“Lord, boy, you’re as wobbly on your feet as that time you drank the whole of the Bannister gang under the table,” Mace stated. He had heard the fevered man use that name several times in his delirium and knew there was a strong connection in Jess’ mind. He guessed from the cries of pain and rage that came with the name that it was not a pleasant memory, but it was a memory, nonetheless. It was a link that Mace could use to his advantage, if he was clever enough.
His use of the name was rewarded by a sharp gasp from Jess as his brain flooded with the emotions and pictures the name triggered. The feelings the name invoked where intense, the visions one of a house in flames. The gambit of emotions ran from deep love, loss, intense hate and rage, but nothing solidified into a clear memory. Jess could be certain of only one thing; he did know the name Bannister. If Mace was to be believed, he was friendly with them, perhaps even rode with them in the past. Was the fire he remembered a result of a raid that he accompanied them on.
Mace noticed the extremes of emotion that passed across Jess’ face and was pleased with the result of his comment. Each small step taking Jess deeper into the fabrication that Mace was creating. ‘This was too easy’ Mace thought, barely able to stop himself smirking with self-satisfaction.
Moving to the weakened man’s other side, Sam supported Jess, avoiding his injured side and arm. He helped Mace take the staggering Jess outside to the travois. Working as gently as he could, Sam eased Jess down onto the waiting blanket, preferring to do this himself rather than risk Mace’s none to gentle handling causing further damage to Jess’ battered body.
Once assured Jess was as comfortable as was possible under the circumstances, he tucked the remaining blankets around him before returning to collect the rest of their belongings from the cave.
The relatively short journey to the cabin was decidedly hard on Jess. Every bump awakening the constant aches in his side, ribs and shoulder to higher levels of pain. Sam rode his own horse and was using it to pull the travois since it was the gentler of the two horses. Maces mount always appeared to be as deadly and violent as its owner. Mace rode close by Jess, supposedly keeping an eye on him, but keeping up a constant litany of Jess’ supposed history of riding with Mace and Tom.
Although Jess was drifting, his mind unable to focus due to the all-consuming pain, some small pieces of what was said filtered through and took root, adding more substance to the implanted memories.
To the sick man it seemed like forever till they reached the shack, and Jess passed out towards the end. Suddenly the jogging motion of the horse stopped and Sam was there at his side, gently urging him to wake up.
“We’re here Jess. Just got to get you inside and then you can rest. Think you can manage to stand if I help you?”
Too drained to spare the energy to speak, Jess nodded and pushed up of the travois his damage ribs protesting every move. The journey had left him weaker and shakier than ever, but Sam was instantly there offering his strength to pull him up and help him into the cabin. Not for the first time Jess found himself wondering how, as gentle a soul as Sam appeared to be, he could have a brother as belligerent as Tom Brading.
Sam eased him onto the bed in the far corner and Jess let himself be lowered back onto the pillow. He was aware that the voices were still talking to him, but he was exhausted now and the words lost their meaning as sleep claimed him again.
The rest of that day passed in a haze, dreams haunted his sleep, their details eluding him, but each time he woke he was left feeling something vital was missing.
Whenever he roused, even momentarily, Sam urged him to drink both water and broth. At one point he recalled Sam changing his bandages and cleaning the healing wounds, but, like his dreams, reality was blurred and confusing to.
Each time he roused, Mace was close by, encouraging him to remember his false past, supplying him with names and jobs from his supposed past association with Tom and Mace.
Soon, in the labyrinth his memory had become since the accident, a false pathway formed. Superficially at least, despite his subconscious telling him it felt wrong, Jess Harper came to believe he was indeed the outlaw Mace described.
Chapter 17
Tom returned from Laramie later that afternoon. When Mace heard the horse approaching, he left the shack briefly, giving Sam a glare to warn him against any foolishness’ he may be planning.
He stood, gun in hand, until he was sure it was his partner. Once Tom dismounted, he re-holstered his gun and joined him as he unsaddled his horse. In low tones he told Tom the false past he had constructed for Jess and was rewarded by the pleased smirk on Tom’s face.
During his long ride back Tom had been digesting all he had found out and piecing it together with Mace’s plans. He had decided that Mace was right. His physical revenge on Jess, when it came, would be sweet but it would be made far sweeter by the mental torture that would be caused when Jess realized he had been tricked into betraying his adopted family. Oh yes, as far as Tom was concerned, life was good, and the next few days where going to see it getting better by the minute.
Tom’s time in Laramie had proved profitable. As was the way of such things, the secret payroll run was not as secret as the army hoped. Rumor abounded and he had learned by careful enquiry and listening to local gossip that the payroll run was scheduled to go ahead as planned. It was to have an escort from the army but they wouldn’t be joining it until Fort Worthing, twenty miles further on than the Sherman Ranch and Relay station.
The stage line company reasoned that no one would be foolish enough to try to hit the stage so close to town, so for the first thirty or so miles between Laramie and the Fort the stage would carry only the normal guard. It was going to prove the biggest miscalculation the army had ever made.
Tom had learned from the local storekeepers as he had purchased the meat and provisions Mace had instructed him to get. The Saloon had also been useful in re-enforcing those details while he had enjoyed quiet a few drinks.
The final and perhaps most enjoyable part of the whole trip as far as Tom was concerned had come the next morning when he had gone to the Doctors just before leaving town.
Mace had insisted that Tom purchase some Laudanum, bandages and something for Harper’s cough. At first Tom had objected, but as the overall plan grew on him he began to see the sense in it. Keeping Jess alive and well enough to appear to take on an active part in the robbery was a perfect plan. Tom had to admit he couldn’t fault it, and so he had made the Doctor’s office his last stop before leaving Laramie.
He’d told the Doctor that he needed the supplies for his younger brother, which indirectly was the truth. That was as far as the similarity went. He described Sam spraining his wrist trying to haul his horse out of the mud following the flooding. The soaking he’d received at the time had also left him with a troublesome cough. Nothing to worry about, and certainly nothing that needed the good Doctor’s help, but Tom was keeping him home and thought these items might help. The Doctor agreed with his reasoning and readily supplied the items, only mildly expressing surprise at the large bottle of Laudanum requested. He had accepted Tom’s explanation that they didn’t get into town often, staying out in the wilderness for weeks on end so he thought it wise to get a supply for the future.
As Tom was leaving the office he walked straight into one Slim Sherman, heading in to see the Doctor. The man Tom recalled from their meeting on the trail looked drawn and tired. He gave Tom a weak smile and nodded briefly in recognition. Tom just couldn’t help himself, he had to ask, “You find your friend? Mister Sherman ain’t it?”
The haggard look on Slim’s features was answer enough. Slim forced himself to reply. He really didn’t like this man, there was something about him, but he felt he should make the effort since the stranger had enquired politely enough.
“No,” Slim’s eyes darted to the medicine in Tom’s hands, and briefly hope flared in his heart. “You got someone needs those?” he asked, more eagerly than he meant to.
“Oh, yeah,” Tom smiled. “My brother had hisself a little accident. He’s recovering fine though. Should be back to his usual self in a few days.” He went on spitefully, to turn the tables back on Slim. “Someone else at your ranch needing a Doctor then? Ya ain’t having much luck, are ya?”
“I just came by to tell Doctor Carver that the funeral for Jess is day after tomorrow.” Slim nodded at the Doctor. “ You will be there, John, won’t you?”
Before the Doctor could answer, Tom interrupted. “Well, if’n you’ll excuse me, I got some ground to cover before nightfall. I’m sorry you ain’t been able to find your partner, but I guess ya figure he’s gone, what with you having a funeral an all.”
Slim bristled and struggled to keep control. It wasn’t so much the words, though they were bad enough, but the tone of voice used, almost gloating, that irritated Slim. He wanted to shout at the man to mind his own damn business, but he felt numb and dull inside and found himself replying. “We ain’t got a body to bury but we think it’s fitting to give him a proper send off and place a marker for him.”
“Yeah, well, maybe yer right. Ain’t much chance of finding him alive now.” Tom placed his hat on his head and left, his last words ringing in Slim’s ears. “Better to bury the memory and get on with livin’ is what I say.”
Tom had replayed that scene in his mind several times during his journey back, relishing every second of it. Now as he related it all, Mace joined him in self-congratulations of their plan.
“Seems like when we hit the stage at the Relay Station, there ain’t gonna be much opposition. That poor family will be in mourning from the funeral barely a day before, and then they’ll be confronted with our friend in there.” Mace inclined his head towards the cabin, then continued, “They ain’t gonna be thinking too clearly. This job is gonna prove mighty easy, jest like takin’ candy from a baby.”
There were still a few points that Tom wasn’t too happy about, and he voiced one of them now. “Just one thing bothering me, you got Harper twisted around real well, but how ya gonna get him to accept them folk knowing him and making a fuss like they will?”
“Ain’t gonna be no problem at all. Now that Harpers convinced he’s part of our gang and has been for a long time, I’m gonna tell him he’s been our spy these past few months working at the Relay station as our inside man. I’ll convince him he’s been our source of information and he’s been wily enough to become a close friend of Shermans’, wormin’ his way into that family’s affections and trust ready for the payroll run.” Mace allowed Tom to digest this before he continued. “By the time he figures it out, if he ever does, we’ll be in control and it won’t change the outcome one little bit.”
Mace was confident he had every angle covered, even down to the detail of the laudanum; under the pretext of helping the pain, he aimed to keep Jess at the edge of consciousness, his mind confused and weakened by the effects of the drug.
Happy with this answer, Tom followed Mace into the shack and handed Sam the food supplies. “Here, get yourself busy preparing a decent meal for us,” he ordered his younger brother.
Sam eyed the clean bandages Tom had placed on the table and dared to defy his brother. “I need to change Jess’ bandages first. He’s a lot better but there is always a chance of infection if we get clumsy.”
Tom was about to object but Mace stepped in. “Alright, that ain’t such a bad idea. I need Harper awake anyway.”
Suspicious, Sam asked, “Why? He needs as much rest as possible to heal.”
“I got his best interests at heart, boy, at least for now. We need to get some of that cough syrup and laudanum in him.
Sam glared at the bottles on the table, noting for the first time that the larger bottle contained the Laudanum. His suspicions grew. “ He ain’t in that much pain when he’s sleeping. A few days ago that would have helped, now, more than likely it’ll just make him sleepy and confused.”
As he watched the sly smile that passed between his older brother and Mace, Sam’s stomach churned. It was obvious they intended to keep their victim disorientated until the last possible moment. Inside Sam was raging, knowing the unpleasant side effects even a small dose of laudanum could cause, but unable to prevent them from administering the painkiller to the ailing man.
Reluctantly, trying to disturb Jess as little as possible, Sam set about changing the dressings again. Jess started to rouse at his touch, and Mace placed a cup of water to his lips, heavily laced with the drug. Tom pushed Sam away and stood close to Jess’ other side.
Although weak and tired, Jess recognized the bitter taste and gagged against it. One thing his mind did recall was that he had never felt easy about taking the strong painkiller, refusing it even when in extreme pain. He started to protest, but found himself held none too gently by Tom, as Mace poured the liquid into him. Coughing and spluttering he was forced to swallow or choke.
Once the cup was drained and satisfied that most of the liquid had been swallowed, Mace pulled the cup away. Jess lay, gasping and gagging, too stunned to do more than try to breathe again. The choking had caused violent spasms in his chest and his ribs and side where protesting the abuse.
Tom stepped back, releasing Jess and allowed Sam to help the struggling man to sit up more, easing his breathing. “Easy, Jess, Easy. Settle down.”
Angry and confused with what he felt like an attack, Jess pulled away from his helping hands, not realizing that Sam was innocent of the assault. Finally able to draw enough air to speak, Jess protested the rough treatment. “W–What ya playin’ at? I- d-don’t t-take laudanum, if’n I c-can help it.”
“Yeah, and don’t we know it, boy.” Mace laughed, making light of it. “I lost count of the number of times in the past when ya refused it, even when it was obvious yer were in pain. Weren’t going to give you the chance to refuse this time. Ya need to rest to heal, and we need you as strong as possible in two days’ time. I ain’t gonna let yer stubbornness ruin this job and put us at risk.”
Pushing upwards on his one good arm, Jess let his anger show. “Sure, but that don’t give ya the right–”
Out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw Tom move forward again and recognized the brutal expression on his face. Hurriedly he stepped between his older brother and Jess. Jess was glaring at Mace and failed to notice Tom’s angry approach. Sam spoke quickly to calm the situation. Although he agreed with Jess and was angry himself, he had learned firsthand the consequences of defying Tom.
“Easy, Jess. Ain’t no point now in getting riled. I’m sure Mace didn’t mean no harm. He jest wanted to help. Next time I’m sure Mace will be askin’ first.” He eased a still angry Jess back down onto the bed. “Ain’t no point fighting, you’ll only end up hurtin’ yourself, and I don’t want you undoing all my good work. Settle back down and let me finish.”
Jess locked eyes with Sam, the anger still evident in his face, but he saw sympathy and compassion in Sam’s eyes and something else. Was it fear, a warning not to push the others anymore? Given his current condition, Jess acknowledged to himself that he was in no condition to take on Mace or Tom. He sighed and settled back, “Yeah, sorry. Reckon I ain’t thinking too clear right now.”
Tom retreated again, and Mace patted Jess’ shoulder, failing to notice how he flinched away.
“That’s better, boy. You just leave it all to me. Ol’ Mace has yer best interests at heart.”
Turning his head away, lest Mace see the anger and suspicion still present in his eyes, Jess replied. “Sure, I’ll do just that,” then he closed his eyes against the pain his movements had caused and allowed Sam to finish cleaning his wounds.
Despite the fact that Sam’s attentions would normally have kept him awake, the large dose of laudanum that had been forced on Jess began to take its toll. His limbs grew heavy and his eyes refused to focus, even breathing seemed to become hard, as his breathing rate slowed and became shallow.
Although he fought against the effects it was inevitable that the drug would win, and he was sucked down into the darkness. His sleep was filled with drug-induced nightmares, further confusing his real and imaginary memories.
Sam was powerless to prevent Mace and Tom repeatedly administering the laudanum, effectively keeping Jess in a twilight world. Each time he roused enough to swallow Sam would get water and food into him, and Mace would regale him with more stories of their times on the trail together. Mace kept a close eye on his victim, pouring the opiate into him whenever any clarity of thought could be seen in Jess’ eyes. He intended to keep Jess like this until the last possible moment before the robbery.
Soon, reality and fantasy blurred and melted together for Jess, as Mace ensured any chance the sick man had of reclaiming himself was lost to the drug.
Chapter 18
For the next few days Jess’ world became one of nightmare. He was unable to think clearly and now trusted no one. Even Sam, the one person he thought was a true friend, seemed unable or unwilling to help him.
While Jess was lost to reality in a drug induced haze filled with pain and false memories, learning to hate the man he now believed himself to be, another man, not so very far away, was lost as well.
For Slim Sherman the world had become one of gray mists through which he moved, devoid of emotions and thought. He did what he had to do to keep the ranch and relay station running, spoke when spoken to and made the arrangements for his best friends funeral as devoid of emotion as if he were talking about mending a fence or cleaning the barn.
He wouldn’t, couldn’t afford to allow himself to feel anything. If he really thought about Jess, really allowed himself to acknowledge he was truly lost to them, then he would break down. Slim couldn’t allow that to happen. Daisy and Mike needed him to be strong, supporting them when they cried and asked why. Why should life be so cruel as to take Jess from them now, just when he had finally found the home and happiness he had been denied since his youth?
Daisy was a woman of faith and found some solace in God. However, while visiting the preacher the previous day, to choose a hymn and check what he intended to say at the funeral, she had broken down and asked why Jess had been taken from them in so untimely a manner.
The preacher had offered words of comfort by quoting bible passages and telling her that God had his own plan and she shouldn’t question it. Daisy knew all this; she had said much the same to Slim and, in different words, to Mike. But how could she go on telling them to trust in God when she was so angry herself? How could she go on believing in a God that had taken yet another beloved son from her life at such a young age?
Now it was the day they would say their final goodbyes to Jess. Slim wore his Sunday best, with a black string tie and armband. He fidgeted with the tie, unable to get it fastened right.
“Here, let me,” Daisy reached up and neatly tied it off. “Jess always ended up letting me do his for him.” Even as the words came out, she felt the tears sting her eyes and she bit her lip against the small sob that wanted to escape.
Slim took her small hands in his and held them gently. “It’s all right Daisy. I guess wherever Jess is now, he’s grinning that crooked grin of his and recalling that to.”
Mike came out of his bedroom, clutching the small wooden horse he had carved, along with a note, scribbled in his childish hand. He had tried so hard to say to Slim and Daisy all that Jess had meant to him. He was his big brother, father and mischievous friend all rolled into one.
He had wanted to say so much to Jess when he was there, but he never had told him how much he meant to him. For the young boy there would always be tomorrow to tell Jess how much he loved him. Now there would be no tomorrow, at least not for Jess.
Daisy had told him to imagine Jess was sitting right next to him and to say all the things he wanted to. She assured him that Jess would hear him, wherever he was. Yet somehow the words wouldn’t form. So, Daisy had said he should write down all he would have liked to say to Jess if he’d had a chance to say goodbye.
Slim walked over to Mike and held out his hand, “I’ll take those if you like Mike. The box is ready.”
At first it looked like the small boy would refuse. His lower lip trembled and he clutched the wooden offering hard. Slim placed his arm comfortingly around his trembling shoulders, trying unsuccessfully to control his own raging emotions.
“Jess knows how much you loved him, Mike. How much we all did. He always knew. You didn’t have to say it. He could see it every time you looked at him or offered to take care of his horse or fetch his boots. He knew and he loved you to. He wouldn’t want to think of you hurting like this. If he was here now, he’d be telling you to be brave, Tiger, and do what you have to.”
“I know, Slim, it’s just–,” Mike hesitated and stifled a sob, before continuing. “When I put these in Jess’ box, it’s like finally saying goodbye. It means I know I ain’t gonna see him again, ever.”
For once Daisy didn’t correct his grammar, it seemed insignificant somehow. Instead she offered the thoughts that had given her some small comfort these past few days. “Jess will always be with us, here and here,” she pointed at her heart and her head. “As long as we remember him, he will live on, alongside us. As long as we recall the special person he was, and talk about the good things he brought to our lives, Jess will be alive in us.”
Again Slim moved to take the small offering from Mike’s hands, but Mike pulled away. “No, I’ll do it. It’s my last gift to Jess. I’ll put it in the box.”
He pulled free of Slims comforting arm and moved to the table where a very ornately carved wooden box lay open. This was Slims work, carved with care and love for the best friend and brother he could have ever asked for. It was Slims farewell gift to Jess, a small casket to hold the few belongings and offerings they had gathered.
Somehow, in the absence of a body, it had felt right to place this chest into a small plot up on the hill near Slims parents. It would be buried with a small service and an equally well carved cross would mark the spot. This was another piece of Slim’s carpentry. It had made the last farewell easier somehow for Slim to think he had been able to make these things for Jess.
Carefully, Mike placed the letter and the carved horse next to the other contents. He ran his hand over Jess’ gun. He knew it was the one Jess had put up when he had come to stay at the ranch. Jess and Slim had told him some of the story, and he knew enough to know that the gun in many ways signified the new life Jess had chosen to make with his new family. It represented the strength of his bond to them.
Next to it was a new pair of leather gloves, a gift Daisy had saved her meager pin money for over the past months, wanting to surprise her mischievous son with a special gift on his birthday. Mike stifled a sob as fresh tears threatened as he remembered the surprise party they had planned for Jess’s birthday next month. Now it wouldn’t happen, Jess would never know how much he meant to them.
Mike stepped back and went to Daisy needing to feel her comforting arms around him. Slim went up to the box, and glancing at Daisy for permission, which he received with a slight nod, he placed the lid carefully in place, his hands caressing the polished wood before he picked it up.
A soft knock came at the door, before the door opened and Andy Sherman stepped in. “I thought I’d knock, I didn’t want to interrupt anything.” Andy glanced meaningfully at Mike.
“Andy, you live here, this is always your home, even though you live back east,” Slim stated.
“I know, big brother, but I didn’t want to startle anyone. I’m just sorry that I have to head back in a few days, but if I don’t leave then I’ll miss all my connections.”
“I understand Andy, I’m glad you made it home. I just wish it were under better circumstances.” Slims voice threatened to betray him again.
“I know, Slim. Back east, I was real homesick at first, and it was thinking of the times I could get to visit that kept me going. I’d be working up all sorts of pranks I could involve Jess in, not that he needed much help.”
“Yeah, and I was always the victim. Seem’s to me Mike here must have been takin’ lessons from you, because he sure fell in with Jess on some of the practical jokes. Why, only last month when I was–” Slim’s reminiscing was interrupted by a cough from the door.
Mort Corey stood there with a pensive look on his face. Losing Jess had hit him hard, but that was hardly surprising since a real friendship had developed between the two men after their initial rocky start. “I’m sorry to interrupt folks, but everyone’s here now, and the preacher says he’s ready when you are.”
“We’ll be right there, Mort. Just give us a minute,” Slim requested.
Mort nodded and left, shutting the door behind him.
“How’d you manage to find the fare to get out here so quick, anyway?” Slim asked Andy, hoping to use the change in subject to control the impending flood of emotion that threatened to overwhelm the group.
Andy looked self-conscious and then replied, “I’ve been saving real hard, putting a little aside whenever I could. You see, I planned to use it to get home here next month. Kind of a birthday surprise for Jess. Now, well, I guess I’ve used it to get back to see Jess, but I just never figured it would be for the last time—.” Andy’s voice petered out, not wanting to risk speaking more.
Daisy stepped forward seeing the two brothers struggling with their emotions. “I think we had better go. A lot of people have turned up. I didn’t know Jess had so many friends.”
“He was well liked, Daisy. He’s done a lot of good for people around here. I don’t think he ever knew what a difference he has made to a lot of people’s lives.” Slim went to step forward, the commemorative box in his hands, but he hesitated as he neared Andy. “Here, Andy. Would you like to carry this?”
Andy recognized the honor Slim was offering him but smiling sadly he shook his head. “Slim, I have an idea. I mean if we had a coffin, we would all—” again he found his throat closing up, emotion threatening to overwhelm him. He cleared his throat and started again. “I think maybe Mike should do this last thing for Jess, after all, he is very much a part of this family now.”
Slim nodded, recognizing the gesture for the kindness it was, and was pleasantly surprised at the fine, considerate young man his brother had become. ‘If only Jess could have seen—. No, you musn’t think like that’ Slim admonished himself.
Pulling himself together he offered the box of treasured memories and gifts to Mike. Swallowing hard, Mike took the box from Slim, humbled by the honor he had just been gifted with. Daisy smiled approvingly at all her adopted family. They were fine boys, all of them. She just wished with all her heart that it hadn’t been such a sad occasion that had highlighted this to her.
Mike moved towards the door, the others falling into step behind him, when suddenly Andy spoke up. “Hold up a second. I almost forgot this.” From his pocket he pulled a small brown paper wrapped package. Opening it he pulled out a bright blue bandana. “After saving for the stage ticket, I only had a little money left, but I bought this as a birthday gift for Jess. You know how he always liked blue neckties. I–I guess I’d like to give it to him now.” Andy lifted the box lid and laid the kerchief inside, before sealing the coffer shut again.
No more words were said as the party fell in step again, the small funeral procession heading out the door to join the friends and neighbors that awaited them.
The service took longer than the small family had anticipated. They had been truly awed by the number of people who had waited for them outside the ranch house. It appeared that most of the town had turned out to pay their last respects to Jess and many of them had wanted to say a few parting words in his memory.
The words used where simple but poignant, and even Slim found himself surprised by the things that were revealed about his best friend. It would appear he had often helped the various people of Laramie, whether by performing some small job, like repairing the fences at widow Clary’s farm, to getting one of Bill Johnson’s older children a job at the livery on his say so.
All this and so much more was revealed about the young man. Slim almost thought he was hearing about someone else. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Jess was capable of these things. He knew he would have done it all and much more. It was the fact that his partner had quietly gone ahead and never a word had been said about these small and not so small kindnesses. It would appear that his only condition when he helped folk was that they didn’t go spreading it around that he had helped.
Any resolve not to give way to the heart ache and gut-wrenching emotions of the occasion faltered and gave way within the first minutes of the service. The small rag tag family drew close as tears streamed down their faces, released finally from the tense emotions, as each person present offered words of tribute and respect for their lost family member.
The service finished when Slim took the box from Mikes trembling grasp and laid it gently in the dark hole he had dug earlier. Each person present threw a small handful of dirt onto the box, a last gesture of farewell.
Slim was the last to leave the graveside. Daisy led Mike and Andy away, her arms encircling them protectively. As she neared the bottom of the hill she glanced back briefly to see Slim standing above the grave, hands clenched tightly into fists. Turning back she almost bumped into Mort Corey.
“Miss Daisy, I hope you and Slim won’t mind, but the towns folk have got together and put up a small spread. Jess never would take anything for the help he gave folks, so they’d take it kindly if you would allow them to do this small thing in his honor.”
“Oh Mort, I don’t know what to say. I–I just–” Daisy lost her voice to her tears again. She pushed Andy and Mike forward. “You go in now boys; I’ll be there in a minute.”
Andy looked about to argue but then nodded briefly. “Come on, Mike. Let’s see what there is to eat.” He guided the young boy inside, leaving Daisy to talk to the Sheriff.
“Don’t say anything, Miss Daisy. Just say it’s alright for them to set the food up inside.”
“Yes, it will be fine. Thank them for me, Mort.” Daisy sniffed and dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief.
“Good. Then you go on inside. I’ll look out for Slim. It’s the least I can do.” Mort offered.
“Thank you. I’m so worried about him. He’s just withdrawn into himself since we lost Jess. I’m so afraid I’ll lose him too. It’s so hard, trying to keep going for them all, when I’m hurting so much myself. I miss him so much, Mort, and it’s the little things that keep bringing it back. I miss his smile in the morning after his first cup of coffee, and that shy look of his around the women.”
“Yeah, I’m having the same problems myself, ‘cepting in my case, it’s the way he used to call in to help whenever he was in town, and the little jokes he’d pull whenever he thought he could get away with it.”
“He was a joker, wasn’t he? Slim could testify to that. For all he’d curse and threaten when Jess caught him, he enjoyed it. Jess helped him unwind and learn to laugh again.” Her gaze shifted up the hill again, where her blond son still stood, head dipped and chin on his chest.
“Don’t you worry none, Miss Daisy. You go in. I’ll wait here and if he looks to be taking too long I’ll go up and fetch him.”
Daisy gave Mort’s arm a light squeeze, and nodding her thanks she followed the rest inside.
Up on the hill, Slim dropped to his right knee, and rubbed his hand across his face, trying to clear his blurry vision. Swallowing hard he started to say the words he had thought so often but never voiced to his friend.
“Jess, wherever you are right now, I hope you can hear me. There is so much I want to tell you, so much I should have said when you were here.” This time as the tears fell and a sob caught in his throat, Slim made no attempt to control his emotions. “It was the luckiest day of my life when you came to the ranch. You brought us something we didn’t even know we were missing. You gave Andy the fun-loving older brother he needed to offset my staid ways.”
Slim stood again and reached to pick up the wooden cross that rested against the oak tree, before continuing. “To me, despite that rocky start, you became the best friend and brother a man could ever ask for. You saved my bacon so many times, and used that mischief in you to show me how to relate to Andy. I guess if you hadn’t come along, Andy and I may have drifted apart long ago.”
Finishing his tribute Slim shoved the wooden cross into the ground and proceeded to hammer it in firmly. Each pounding blow seeming to hammer home to him the enormity of his loss. “ You’re my other brother, in all but blood Pard, the missing part in all our lives. I don’t know how I’ll go on without you, but I promise you I will, for Daisy and Mikes sake, cause I know that’s what you’d want.”
His face moist with a mixture of sweat and tears, Slim stood back and looked at the finely carved cross, his last gift to his best friend. “I guess I’ll never understand why God took you, just when you finally seemed to be settled with us. I guess maybe we ain’t meant to understand something’s. But I do know I’ll miss you and I’ll never forget you. You’re part of this family and this is where you’ll stay.” Slim clutched his hand to his chest. “You’ll always be alive in here, Pard, and I’ll treasure every memory I have and every lesson in life you taught me. Thank you, Pard, for all you gave us. Rest easy, Jess.” Slims voice finally broke, the emotion tightening his throat and threatening to choke off his air.
He stood silently for a few more minutes, letting the bitter tears slide down his cheek and fall softly onto the ground. There the dry soil soaked them up as if they had never existed. Perversely, Slim wished his pain could be drawn away just as easily.
Finally, his emotions drained, Slim pulled his hand across his eyes, trying to remove the last of the tell tale moisture that lingered there. He looked up and towards the ranch house, his gaze settling on the figure of Mort Corey, where he stood patiently waiting for Slim to join him.
With heavy steps he turned and moved down the hill, stopping once to gaze back at the marker. He didn’t need to memorize the words carved on the cross. His own hands had welded the knife that marked the wood, he had felt each letter carved out on his heart.
Jess Harper, Beloved brother always. We miss you.
Rest in peace until we can ride together again, Pard.
Chapter 19
The day of the funeral had been painfully hard on the grieving family, but it allowed them to release the emotional whirlpool that had been threatening since the day Jess had been lost to them. Now at least, the long slow process of healing could begin.
Daisy had been truly astonished at the kindness of the townspeople. They had provided a wake for Jess that would have been good enough for a king. Knowing how steadfast and caring her special ‘son’ had been, she had been awed and humbled by the generosity of the folks that had turned up to say their last farewells. She had always known how caring and true a person he was, she had just never realized that so many others had also seen Jess for the giving person he was.
She didn’t have to lift a finger to prepare the food, and afterwards, as people were leaving, they cleared up and cleaned the place as if they had never been there. In a way Daisy wished they hadn’t. Keeping busy tidying up would have helped keep her mind from dwelling on what had been expressed to her.
The next day, as she went about the routine tasks in the homestead she thought about the funeral and all that had happened. Although it was good to hear the words of so many people confirming how well Jess had been thought of, it pained her deeply as they kept running through her mind. At one point she had even though bitterly that it was cruel that they, for the most part, had never thought to say it to Jess when he was alive. But that was the way of it in life, she told herself as she brought herself back to focusing on getting supper ready for the remaining members of the household.
After the last folk had left, Slim had withdrawn into himself, and strangely he hadn’t mentioned Jess’ name since. In fact, Daisy had observed him actively changing the subject or finding an excuse to leave, whenever Jess’ name had come into the conversation.
This had worried her a lot; especially since she could see the pain and confusion this was causing Andy and Mike. She didn’t feel she could challenge Slim on this, however. It was too soon and the wounds too raw and deep.
Daisy knew it was his way of keeping the pain at bay. Locking the memories of his best friend away and refusing to think about them would only work for a while though. Sooner or later he would have to deal with the loss and come to terms with it.
But for now she chose not to confront him about his behavior. Instead, she had taken Andy and Mike aside and tried to explain Slim’s behavior to them as simply and painlessly as she could.
“But it ain’t right, him acting like Jess never existed. He was the best thing that happened to us, and Slims acting like he didn’t matter!” His older brother exasperated Andy. The young man was hurting to, the more so in that he had not seen Jess in what felt like an eternity.
Now he was never going to get the chance again to join in one of the many adventures he and Jess seemed to fall into. He had been desperate to come home for Jess’ birthday, the thought of going fishing and sitting companionably with him by one of the many fishing pools Jess knew, being a major factor to helping him overcome his homesickness.
He had been the one who had wanted to move away, and a college education had seemed a wonderful opportunity. Jess had been the first one to admit that while he would miss Andy, he should take the opportunity to ‘get educated up’. It was a chance that had never been on the cards for the young Jess Harper, drifting from place to place with no one caring if he lived or died.
Andy’s fist slammed into the barn door, the harsh sound making even the patient Daisy jump. “It ain’t fair Daisy. Jess hardly had a childhood or a family to care throughout his life. Then he finds us, and he’s the missing part of us that we didn’t know we needed. He just kind of fitted right in, and although Slim fought it for a while, deep down he knew Jess belonged here. So why is he acting like losing Jess isn’t worth considering, Daisy? Why?”
“It’s exactly the opposite Andy,” Daisy tried to explain quietly, keeping her voice soft in an effort to calm the angry young man. “He can’t get Jess out of his mind. Everywhere he looks something of Jess is there. It’s tearing him up, Andy, and he’s afraid if he just once let’s himself say his name, he’ll lose control and won’t ever regain it.”
Young Mike had stood listening to all this and now Daisy felt a tugging on her dress sleeve. She turned to see him staring up at her, his eyes moist. “Why’s it wrong to cry Aunt Daisy. I mean, when you really miss someone and it hurts so bad you feel like you’re hearts been cut into little pieces, why is it wrong to let people see how much you’re hurting?”
Daisy reached out and pulled the small boy to her, encircling him in her arms as if she sought to protect him from the world of hurt that currently surrounded him. “It isn’t Mike. You shouldn’t feel guilty for feeling like you do. You loved Jess. We all did, still do, in fact. That’s why it hurts so much. It’s not wrong to cry or to show that you are hurting, so you just go right ahead and let it out.”
Mike looked up as the tears filled his eyes and spilled over. “Then why can’t Slim just cry like the rest of us?” he persisted, needing to understand.
With a heartfelt sigh, Daisy did her best to explain, hoping it would give the two young boys the strength to cope over the weeks and months and years ahead.
When she had finished, she felt drained but hopeful, as Mike finally spoke again. “So Slim thinks he’s got to stay strong and not show his pain so that he can support us?”
“That’s about it, Andy,” she said softly.
” Well I ain’t going to let him do that to himself, Daisy. I’m going to stay here and help out for the next month or so, and if he doesn’t allow himself to break down and cry in the next few days, then I’m going to push him till he does. I know my brother, Daisy, and he’ll tear himself up inside if he doesn’t let the pain out.”
“I know, Andy, but give him a few days. Eventually he will give way, and then he’ll need us there to help him.”
Andy nodded and turned to walk away. Suddenly he turned back and smiled at Daisy. “You know, you’re a very wise woman, Daisy, Slim and Jess were real lucky to have you. I know old Jonesy would have been real proud to have met you and real pleased you have been here looking after his boys.”
“Thank you, Andy. That means a lot to me.” Daisy sniffed and wiped her eyes delicately on her hanky. “Now I think I had better get back to cooking supper, don’t you?”
The small group moved back to the house, determined to keep going, to live from day to day in the hope that eventually the pain would soften enough to allow them to see some light in the world.
That conversation had only been an hour ago, and now she was ready to serve supper, the moment Slim came in from wherever he had been hiding for the afternoon.
As if on cue, the front door opened and Slim entered, the door slamming shut behind him. “Supper ready Daisy, I’ve worked up quite an appetite,” he called. To an outsider, he sounded like everything was just hunky dory. It was just another routine day on the ranch, but Daisy Cooper had been able to read the minds of her ‘sons’ from the very first day, and she knew Slim was hiding a world of pain behind the casual exterior.
“It’ll be on the table by the time you’ve cleaned up. Andy’s with Mike, helping him with his schoolwork. I’ll call them in a few minutes.” She hesitated and then decided that she may as well take the bull by the horns, so to speak. “Slim, I’d like to talk to you if I may, while the boys aren’t here.”
“What is it Daisy, them two been giving you problems,” he said with forced joviality.
“Oh, no, not at all. They’re easy to control compared to Jess–.” Even as the name spilled out she realized that she had just lost the chance to try and draw Slim out. She could see the shutters come down in his mind and the mental doors clang shut on any further conversation. “Well then, if they ain’t been any trouble, if you don’t mind, I’ll just head to bed. I’m a lot more tired than I thought.”
“B–But Slim, what about your supper?” Daisy asked, worried by the complete about turn in events.
“No, I guess I ain’t as hungry as I thought. Just leave me a plate warming by the stove. If I feel like it I might eat it later. Right now, I’m just aching for bed.” He turned and headed to his bedroom, the one he had shared with Jess.
His hand was on the doorknob when Daisy’s soft voice called for his attention. “What about the boys? Andy and Mike will wonder why you aren’t at supper.”
“Tell them the truth. Tell them I’m just plain tuckered out from trying to do the work of two men, tell them I ain’t slept well lately and it’s caught up with me. They’ll be all right. They have each other. I’m going to bed, Daisy, I don’t rightly care what you tell them right now.” Then he was gone, the door shut decisively behind him with such force as to warn anyone not to disturb him.
Supper was a quite affair; even the usually irrepressible Mike withdrew into himself. He had asked after Slim, and accepted the excuse of tiredness Daisy gave, but Andy was not so easily appeased.
Throughout the evening Daisy could see Andy glaring angrily at the door behind which his brother had retreated. Finally, when it became obvious Slim was not going to come out, Andy stood and headed straight for the bedroom door. Daisy moved to intercept him, then stopped. Perhaps this was what was needed. She placed her hand on Mikes shoulder and squeezed it slightly. “Come on, Mike. Let’s see if I can find you another piece of pie before you go to bed.”
Mike followed obediently, only looking back towards the bedroom once, as he heard Slims voice rise angrily. Daisy gently pushed him forward and he went with her, understanding the need to let the two brothers sort out their problems.
Behind the closed door, Andy squared his shoulders and got ready to face down his stubborn older brother. He was tired, angry and deeply hurting himself. He was staying on for as long as he could before he had to return to college and he needed to know Slim and the others would be all right when he returned to school.
He could see his brothers blond head just above the covers, which were pulled up high. Slims head was turned to the wall and he refused to acknowledge Andy’s presence, but Andy could tell from the sound of Slims breathing that he was not asleep.
Andy had intended to try and stay in control of himself and approach his brother with reasonable tact, but Slim’s refusal to even say hello finally proved the straw that broke the camel’s back. “All right, that’s it. You may be my older brother but right now any one would think it was the other way round.”
When Slim failed to reply, Andy strode forward and pulled the blankets down with one hand whilst using the other to pull his brother round to face him. “Slim your going listen to me whether you want to or not. You’re behaving as ornery as Jess after a good Saturday night.”
Andy’s reference to Jess was deliberate. He intended to force Slim to talk about their dead friend, no matter how much it pained. It was the only way he could think of to get his older brother to break down and release the pain that threatened to destroy them all.
He continued to push at his brothers stonewall defenses. “You think you’re the only one hurting, the only one who cared for Jess. He was my brother and friend just as much as he was yours. Daisy and Mike, they’re torn up as much as us. He was Daisy’s son in all but blood, and Mike’s brother, friend and father figure since the day Mike came here. But we want to remember him, to remember all that he meant to us and the good things he brought to our lives. You are shutting him out of your life as if he never existed.”
Still no reaction could be seen from the bundle of bedding that was Slim Sherman.
“Was all that talk about him being the best thing that ever happened to you, him being your brother and best friend all in one just exactly that? Talk. What’d you make him a partner for? Just to look good. That’s it isn’t it? He didn’t mean anything to you other than a hired hand. Your glad he’s dead.”
The seething mass of pain, anger and grief that had been Slim Sherman exploded at those last hateful words. The blankets flew from him and he sprang up, grabbing his younger brothers shirtfront and causing Andy to stagger backwards under the force of the assault.
“Don’t you ever speak about Jess like that! You can’t possibly know how it feels to lose a brother, a friend like him.” Slims voice was loud enough to be heard in the rest of the house, but Daisy wisely stayed away and kept Mike at her side.
“Don’t I? Seems to me I had a brother called Slim, and he’s been lost to me for the past few days.” Slims face was mere inches from Andy’s, his eyes burning with anger, but slowly, as Andy’s words sunk in, the fire died out, doused by the pain he could see in his eyes. It was a mirror of his own but Andy, young as he was, had control of it.
Andy saw his brother lose his rage, felt the hands at his shirtfront relax their grip and drop down. He allowed himself to relax. The hardest part of the battle was over. All he had to do now was to pick up the pieces of his brothers shattered heart and put it all back together again.
“I–I’m sorry,” Slim said quietly. “I ain’t been much of a brother have I.? I tried to be strong, stay in control, but instead I reckon I was just denying my feelings to myself and everyone around me. Jess would be ranting at me right now. He always was telling me I was too proper, too straight-laced. I miss him, Andy, so much I think I can’t stand it.” Slim sat down on the bed again, his head in his hands.
Dropping down beside him, Andy slipped into the role of older brother. He placed a comforting arm around his big brothers’ shoulders. “We all miss him Slim. There’s so much I wanted to say to him, so many things I planned on doing with him, with you all, once I got back. But Jess loved life and he loved us. Life hadn’t dealt kindly with him most of his life but that all seemed to change once he met you and came to make his home here.”
“Yeah. There were a few times early on when I almost threw him off the ranch, but I’ve never regretted him staying. In fact, he changed my life, our lives, so much for the better, I just couldn’t ever imagine life without him in it. Seems like now I’ve got to, whether I want it or not.” Slim straightened up and looked directly at his brother. “I’ve been so selfish. Wallowing in my own pain when you’ve all been hurting just as much.”
“That’s all right Slim, you see it now, and we’re all going to help each other get through this, and we’ll do it by talking and sharing our memories of him. Jess would want it that way. He’d never be happy wherever he is now, if he thought he’d left us tore up and biting at each other. He’d be standing here right now, hands on hips and telling us not to be such damn fools.”
A memory of Jess in exactly such a situation came to mind, and the memory, instead of causing pain this time, warmed and strengthened Slim. “When did you get to grow up into such a wise young man?” Slim fondly asked his brother. Then he stood and said, “Guess I’d better go and eat some humble pie and apologize to Daisy and Mike. It’s time to start living again, just as Jess would want us to.”
Slim headed to the door, and then a thought struck him. He turned to speak to Andy again. “I’m going to need your help tomorrow. There’s a stage due in carrying a large payroll. It’s been kept secret and there will be no escort until it reaches the fort. Reckon they figured it would be safe between Laramie and there. Too close to town to risk a raid they think. It wasn’t going to be a problem with Jess around to help, but, well, now–” Slim hesitated, then spoke up again. “Do you reckon you are up to doing a real man’s job?”
Andy recognized the tease in his older brother’s voice, a tease designed to get a playful response. That was something Slim would never have done before he’d met Jess, but Jess had taught him to unwind and learn to play a little in life. A lesson well learned, as Slim now demonstrated.
Jumping up, Andy responded in kind, playfully punching Slim on the shoulder. “You bet I am. I’ll show you who the real man around here is.”
Laughing, their arms around each other’s shoulder, the two brothers went out to face the world and all it could throw at them. Together, and with the memory of Jess to sustain them, they would meet all challenges and win.
Chapter 20
It was a damp dawn on the morning that was to change the lives of the Sherman household forever and put the seal of fate on the lives of the men now waking up in the tumble-down cabin in the woods.
The last large dose of laudanum had been poured into a very drugged Jess at noon the day before, and then Mace had stopped administering the drug at all, letting Jess go ‘cold turkey’ through the night.
It had been rough on the hurting man, as his mind struggled to come into focus through the constant pain and the drug induced confusion. Mace and Tom had used that time well. When Jess was finally able to look at the world with some degree of clarity, it was as Jess Harper, a bank and stage robber with a considerable price on his head.
The men were far from quiet as they moved around the shack, gathering their belongings. Once the money from the stage was in their possession, they had no intention of coming back here. It was the smell of coffee and raucous laughter that finally pulled Jess to full consciousness.
A low groan escaped Jess’ lips and he forced his eyes to open against his better judgment. His head throbbed, along with the rest of his still healing body, and as the early morning light pierced his cloudy vision his stomach churned, threatening to empty what little contents it held. Yet despite all this, his thoughts were clearer than they had been in days.
Hearing the soft groan, Sam moved towards his friend. For the past few days, he had been forced to standby unresisting as his older brother and Mace had forced the laudanum into the semiconscious young rancher. Sam had hoped and prayed for the chance to try and warn Jess. He had waited, his patience nearly exhausted, for the two outlaws to make a mistake and leave him alone with Jess.
It had only happened the once. Sam had taken the faded photograph and letter and tried to rouse Jess enough that he could show him the evidence that would shatter the imaginary history Mace had constructed. He had failed miserably. Jess was too far under the influence of the drug to even respond to his name. Then it was too late, because Tom was back in the shack and angrily demanding to know what he was doing. Sam had been lucky that time, managing to convince Tom that he had only been trying to get some water into the ailing man.
Now it was the day of the planned robbery and it was too late to do more. As Sam moved towards Jess he was grabbed and pulled away.
“Get Jess a coffee,” Mace ordered.
Mutely Sam moved to the stove, listening as he went to try and hear what was said, He hoped that perhaps during the drug induced coma Jess had fallen into some shards of lost memory had clarified in Jess’ mind. But at the same time, he recognized that if Mace once thought that Jess was no longer completely under his control, a world of pain and danger would instantly open up for the injured man.
“Welcome back, Jess. How ya feelin’?” Mace inquired, his only real interest being to ascertain Jess’ state of mind and ability to ride out with them today.
“B–Been b–better” Jess dry throat threatened to close up on him and Mace turned to Sam, demanding the coffee with a fierce glare. Sam thrust the cup into his hand.
“Watch it, it’s hot,” Mace instructed. “Tom, pull Jess boy up, so’s he can get this down his gullet,” Mace continued.
None too gently Tom pushed past Sam and hauled Jess upright, jarring his broken arm and still healing ribs as he did so. “There ya go, Jess. That feel better?”
With Tom behind him, Jess didn’t see the smirk on Tom’s face as he heard the gasp of pain his actions had caused. Mace flashed a warning glare at Tom, willing him to back off for now.
Sam recognized his chance of warning Jess was rapidly retreating, and he left the cabin to finish preparing the horses.
Jess sat on the edge of the bunk, waiting for the world to stop trying to turn over, before he finally took a sip of the bitter strong coffee. The frown on his face slowly faded, as he could taste only the coffee in the cup he had been given. The past few days had made him wary of any drink or food he was given.
“Relax, Jess boy. Ain’t nothing in that cup but good strong coffee. I need you bright-eyed and bushy tailed today. Side’s I only drugged you fer your own sake. You was far to fractious and restless to heal well. I won’t be doin’ anything like that again.” Mace sat across from Jess, needing to make sure his victim remained under his control.
“I’m a mite stronger now, Mace. What makes you think I’d let you get away with what you did a second time?” Jess’ mouth curved upwards as he spoke but his eyes were hard and cold, denying the ease of the smile.
The hard look was not lost on Mace. “Ain’t no need for you to hold a grudge, Jess. We’ve ridden the trail together a long time. Ya outta know by now I’m a practical man. I needed you fit enough to ride and play your part. There will be plenty of time fer you to rest up afterwards, and all the money in the world ta help you do it.” Mace lied easily. He fully intended to leave all at the ranch, including Jess, for dead, once the money was in his hands.
Every time Mace or Tom talked about the payroll robbery, Jess’ skin crawled. He couldn’t say why, but it didn’t sit right with him at all, no matter what Mace said about their past together. Jess’ looked down at his cup, hoping to hide the doubt in his eyes from Mace, “I–I’ll do my part,” he said gruffly.
“Good. Just remember, all ya gotta do is act like you know them real well and yer right glad to be home. If’n they ask too many questions about the accident or what happened before just make on yer don’t remember anything much yet. Say that it’s all very vague and only comin’ back in bits.” Mace was satisfied Jess was well and truly snared in his web of deceit. He could practically smell that money now.
Dejectedly Jess responded, “T–That shouldn’t be too h–hard, seeing as I can barely recall bein’ at the ranch. Heck, I only know my own name cause of what you all told me.”
Mace slapped a hand on Jess’ knee faking friendship. “Hell, Jess boy. You ain’t gonna tell me yer fergettin all the long chats we’ve been having. You seemed to be rememberin’ real well then.”
Tipping his head up to look at the now standing Mace, Jess gave a weak smile. “I reckon I recall most of it.” But the bile in his throat threatened to rise up and choke him and his stomach turned at his own words. There was something very wrong about this whole set up. His head throbbed and his body still threatened to fall apart every time he moved. It was just too darn hard to pull his thoughts together clearly. Every time he tried to focus on the faces that swam into his mind the intensity of his headache increased so much Jess thought his head would bust open. He sank into a sullen silence and sipped slowly at the remainder of his coffee, trying to regain control of the pain and nausea attacking him.
Staring into the dregs of the cup, Jess lost track of time. Suddenly a hand was placed on his good shoulder and he was shaken gently.
“Come on, Jess, its time to go.” Sam’s gentle voice penetrated the cloudiness of his mind.
Looking up at Sam, something Jess saw in the boy’s eyes made him hesitate. Sam knew something. Something Jess needed to know, but he couldn’t find the question that would release the answer. Opening his mouth to speak, Jess tried anyway
“S–Sam? I–I don’t think this is–.”
His voice trailed off as he saw Tom glaring at the two of them from the door. He knew very little of what he was tied into, and understood even less, but one thing his instincts told him for sure was that Tom harbored no friendly intentions towards him, no matter what was said.
“Ya don’t think what, Jess?” Tom prompted the hard edge to his voice easily noticeable.
“Jess ain’t so sure he can ride, ain’t that right, Jess?” Sam spoke up quickly to save the situation. He had read the doubt and worry in Jess’ expressive eyes easily, and his heart ached for the man. Somehow, he must find away to tell him the truth before it proved too late for all of them.
“Yeah. I feel kinda sick,” Jess responded, the color draining from his face as he tried to stand. Sam reached to steady him, hoping to prevent any more deliberately heavy-handed help from his brother.
“You jest get ta yer horse, Jess. Mace and I’ll do the rest. The way you look, doubt you weigh more than a feather. I could toss yer up with one hand.” The sadistic smile on Toms face twisted the easy offer of help into a threat of pain.
“Jess ‘ll manage just fine, Tom.” Sam assured as he headed outside, with Jess leaning heavily on him. The amount of help Jess needed was not unexpected, especially as the drug in his system was still at a fairly high level. At least that probably helped keep some of the pain at bay. Sam was fairly certain he would be able to get Jess mounted, but what worried him was whether the weakened man would be able to stay in the saddle.
Jess was panting heavily by the time they reached his intended mount. His broken ribs still prevented him from moving with any ease. Sam had tethered the gentlest of the horses next to a log. With Jess leaning heavily against the horses flank he helped Jess to step up onto the log, then let him rest for a few seconds before taking the final step to mount.
Lacing the fingers of his one good hand into the thick mane, Jess gave a brief nod to indicate he was ready. Sam pushed upwards on Jess’ hips, alarmed at how bony they felt. He had known Jess was a lean man, but the illness had left him practically skin and bone. Pain stabbed through Jess chest and side as he hauled upwards and tried to throw his leg over the horses back. Sam shifted his grip and helped lift the leg over as gently as he could.
That last effort caused a strangled cry to escape Jess tightly clamped jaws, then it was over, and he lay against the horse’s neck, his body one big ache, but he was mounted. God help him if he had to try and dismount at any time. Jess figured that the only way he was ever likely to be able to get off again was to fall, and the way he felt right then that was a distinct possibility in the near future.
The other two had already mounted and had watched the whole performance. Mace’s only concern being to get Jess to the relay station, preferably intact and able to hold a gun. But Tom enjoyed the whole performance, getting a perverse kind of pleasure from it.
Once assured that Jess wasn’t about to fall off, Sam had mounted and guided his own horse alongside Jess’. Leaning over, he snatched up the reins to Jess’ mount. Sam seriously doubted Jess would be able to control even this gentle mount and decided that he would lead the horse along. He sent a withering glare at his older brother, bravely daring him to challenge his actions. Tom would have done so to, but Mace spoke softly to him, reminding him of the money and the revenge that would be his later that day.
Then Mace headed out, Tom alongside him. Not liking the fast pace they set but not daring to enrage the pair by dropping behind, Sam kicked his heels into his mounts flanks and followed them, leading Jess’ horse behind him.
The Sherman household had also risen early. After the emotionally draining outburst and subsequent resolution everyone had slept reasonably deeply. Slim had woken with a clearer head and a lighter heart. He knew he would never be able to blank out the time he had lived with Jess as a part of his life, but now he didn’t want to do that. Now he wanted to hold the memory of his best friend close to him and use all that he had learned from his friendship as a guide to him throughout his life.
There was a lot to do on a working ranch and the past week had seen a lot of that work neglected. He intended to start today afresh, a new beginning in honor of Jess’ memory and a determination to get everything back in working order as quickly as possible. With Andy here, at least for a few weeks, it should be possible to catch up.
Today was also the day that the private stage carrying the army payroll was due. Slim had never really anticipated that there would be any trouble at the relay station, especially given his late partners reputation with a gun. However, Jess was no longer here, and all of Laramie and its surrounding district knew it. Still, the army had felt there would be no threat to the payroll this close to town, so Slim felt reasonably at ease over it.
Still, he intended that he and Andy would get the work around the ranch done early and be back by mid-morning at the ranch house to ensure all was secure. He had also suggested that Daisy might like to take Mike into town for the afternoon. He hoped it would remove the two of them from any possible danger and also give the two of them a break from the ranch.
Slim was well aware that everywhere they looked on the ranch, something would always trigger a memory of Jess. Walk in the barn to saddle a horse and you could almost see a familiar figure brushing down Traveller. Step up on the porch and your eyes would wander to the rocker, automatically expecting to see Jess sitting there, his familiar smile welcoming you and beckoning you to join him in the early evening. After last night, Slim didn’t find it as painful as it had been, in fact he drew an odd comfort from it, but none the less he felt Daisy and Mike could do with a break from it all, if only for a few hours.
He and Andy had finished mending the fences around the high pasture, and arrived back at the ranch house at mid-morning just as they had expected to. Daisy plied them with coffee and biscuits she had made that morning and then announced to Slim that she had no intention of leaving for town until she had ensured her two older sons had eaten a good lunch. Slim was a little concerned but Daisy had reassured him it would be all done and dusted several hours before the stage was due.
“Now Slim, I am not leaving for town until I know you two boys have a good meal in you. I might get held up and be late getting back. You know you get grouchy if your stomach stays empty for too long,” she had laughed softly at his indignant expression and even hid the pang of regret she felt at his automatic response.
“You’ve been listening to Jess’ remarks about my eating habits. I thought you knew better than that, Daisy.” Slims smile faded as he realized what he had said, but returned just as quickly as Daisy nodded and continued.
“Yes, and I learned a lot more from him as well. Like how to recognize when you are trying to remove someone you care about from a potential threat. Just like you are trying to do with Mike and me this afternoon. Do you really expect trouble, Slim?”
“You know me too well, Daisy,” Slim smiled warmly at her. “No I don’t expect any trouble, but I guess I just want to be sure that you and Mike are really safe. I don’t think I could bear to lose you two, or anyone else I care about. I’m just being overcautious and silly, but indulge me will you?”
Placing her hands lightly on Slims arms, Daisy looked up to see deep concern in his eyes. “Don’t worry Slim, we will leave straight after dinner. We’ll be in Laramie before the stage even leaves to come here.” Then she laughed again, nodding towards Mike who had just come out of the house. “Anyway, Mike would never forgive me if I didn’t take him into town. I promised him a stick of candy. You know, the ones Jess was always bringing home for him when you and he went in on a Saturday for a few drinks.”
“Yes, I remember. No matter how eager we were to get to the saloon and a little distraction, he would always detour to the store to buy Mike his Saturday treat. I guess I’ll have to make a point of keeping up that little tradition.”
“That would be nice, Slim dear. Mike can do with all the love and gestures of affection we can give right now. Look, I’d better get on with dinner if I’m going to get away on time. Would you and Andy get the buggy ready for me after dinner, please? Oh, and Slim, you and Andy take care this afternoon, I know it’s silly of me but—.” Her quiet voice trailed of but Slim squeezed her shoulders and smiled re-assuringly.
“Don’t you fret none, Daisy. We will both be fine. Now off you go. If I don’t get into that barn and help Andy muck out, he’ll be complaining at me the rest of the day.” Slim headed of to the barn, glancing back over his shoulder just once to see Daisy go back inside with Mike in tow.
As good as her word, Daisy had lunch ready by noon. She wanted to be sure her family wouldn’t be hungry while she was away, and always a good cook, she had out done herself. She had even made two apple pies, one for desert and one for supper, just in case she was late getting back. Oh, she knew Slim could put together a meal if he had to, but as Jess would often comment, it was better to avoid one of Slim’s offerings if you had the chance to.
Slim and Andy had offered to clean the table and do the dishes, but Daisy had shooed them out of her kitchen and ordered them to get the buggy ready.
“Mike and I can manage, boys. You just get that buggy ready and out front. Mike is eager to get away. Aren’t you, Mike?” Daisy nodded knowingly at Slim, easily reading his anxiety to see them safely away before the payroll stage came anywhere near the relay station.
Although not enthusiastic at the idea of washing the dishes, Mike really was looking forward to this trip into Laramie. He really missed Jess and was finding it hard not to keep thinking of him. Even at dinner earlier, he had commented on how Jess would have said that this as Daisy’s best apple pie yet. Even as the words left his lips, he had looked round at the others uncertain if he had done something wrong. He was greatly re-assured when all the others, including Slim had smiled and agreed. Things had been a lot better since Andy and Slim had had their big argument, but the small boy still felt like nothing would ever be quite the same again, and he felt nervous.
With the dishes done and the kitchen and room tidy, Daisy picked up her coat and called for Mike as she heard the buggy draw up outside.
“Come on Mike, Slim and Andy are waiting on us. Have you got everything you need?” she asked maternally.
In a very unlike Mike manner, the boy walked out of his bedroom, his jacket in his hands. On other trips in the past, it would be a game between Jess and himself to race to the buggy. Conveniently, Jess would always arrive just a split second behind him and roughing up his hair, he would pick up the laughing boy and hoist him onto the buggy seat, the familiar, “There ya go, Tiger,” sounding rich and warm to the boy.
This time, it wasn’t going to happen, and although Mike still looked forward to the trip, somehow, he couldn’t bring forth his customary enthusiasm. Daisy saw this and understood instantly.
“It’s all right, Mike. Lets get going. It’s okay to miss him you know, but Jess would hate to think of you not enjoying a trip into town on his account.” She encouraged him out the door with a guiding hand on his shoulder, her own mind filling with memories of the many times Jess would ride alongside the buggy when he would accompany them to town. She took a last look around the room, sighing as she pictured the familiar dark head nodding, as Jess would often do as he rocked in his favored chair by the fire, then, her face set in a determined smile, she followed Mike out the door.
Chapter 21
Would this hell he was lost in ever end? It seemed like he’d been here, wherever here was, for as long as he could remember. It felt like every bit of him had been hurting forever and now he was being shaken to pieces.
Jess was hunched low over the horse’s neck, his knuckles white as he clung to the thick mane as if his life depended on it, which in a way it did. As the morning wore on, Jess’ strength had begun to fail him as the fever returned and the wound in his side began to seep blood again, irritated by the constant motion of his horse.
Worried by the obvious distress his friend was in, Sam had eased his horse back alongside Jess’ mount, and had rode as close as was possible, ready to catch the ailing man if need be. When Sam had asked that they stop for a break, Mace had refused, saying there would be plenty of time to rest once they were closer to the relay station. But now, looking at Jess’ pale features, Sam became insistent.
“Mace, he ain’t gonna be any good to ya if’n he falls of his horse and hurts hisself further. We gotta stop and give him a break.”
Irritated, Mace had dropped back and was about to tell Sam to mind his own goddamn business when a low groan from Jess drew his attention. ‘Damn, the man did look bad’. Normally Mace couldn’t care less if Jess was alive or dead when they got to the Sherman ranch. Either way he would guarantee their access to the place. But the idea of tricking Jess to turn on his own friends, thanks to his manipulations, appealed to Maces warped humor. He was looking forward to the interplay of emotions Jess’ betrayal would produce, and the subsequent destruction of what was left of Jess Harpers sanity when he realized he had been used by Tom and Mace to destroy his own family was something he especially wanted to see.
“Alright. We’ll hold up here for a minute.” Mace reached down and snagged up his canteen. He took a long swig of the cool water and then upended it, tipping some of the contents over Jess’ head.
Roused by its icy touch, Jess’ head lifted and he peered around. “Wha—what’s going o–on?” he rasped.
“Take it easy, Jess. We’re just giving the horses a rest. Mace, can you help me get him down?” Looking at Jess, Sam doubted he would be able to get him down alone, and then getting him mounted again might well prove impossible.
“R—reckon I’d b–better stay p–put, Sam.” Jess advised.
Mace must have figured the same thing. “Best to stay mounted. Here, you hold him steady whilst I get him to drink some of this.” He moved in closer to Jess as Sam supported the weakened man against himself, allowing the dark head to rest on his shoulder as Jess threatened to fall forward again.
Too weak to do anything more than protest weakly, Jess endured the indignity of Mace forcing him to take a mouthful of laudanum, followed by some water. Jess felt his stomach churn and threaten to bring it all back again, but Sam held him still until the nausea passed.
Seeing the glare Sam cast in his direction, Mace laughed. “Thought ya was worried about him, boy. That small dose’l do little more than take the sting from the pain. I need ol’ Jess here clear headed when we get where we are going. That money’s as good as ours, ain’t it, Tom. I ain’t gonna jeopardize that.”
Snickering at a private joke, Tom replied, “ Yeah. Looks like today might just see a lot of us getting our just desserts. Yessiree, today’s gonna be a real good day fer some of us.”
The smoldering hate in Tom’s eyes as he looked at Jess sent cold shivers down Sam’s spine. ‘Not if I can help it’ he thought to himself, knowing only too well that Tom wanted revenge on the sick rancher, and was intending to have it before the day was over.
“Okay, Sam. Better settle him back in the saddle again. Jess, we’re moving out. You reckon you can stay in that saddle, boy?” Mace pulled way, not really waiting for a reply.
“I’ll m–manage. Y–you just c–concentrate on g–getting us t–there,” came Jess’ strained reply.
They started off again, and for a little while the laudanum did enable Jess to keep up with the others. It only lasted for an hour though before it began to wear off and seeing the pain lines drawn across his fine features Sam grasped the reigns of Jess’ horse and pulled it to a stop.
“Hold up,” he shouted to the others.
“What now?” Tom said irritably. “We’re never gonna make it in time. That’s it, we’re doing it my way.” He pulled a rope from his saddle and dismounting he headed menacingly towards where Jess who was slumped over his horse’s neck, his breathing coming in harsh gasps.
Sam saw the look of pure evil that was fixed on his brother’s face. He turned cold with fear for Jess’ safety. He rode towards the two men, placing himself between them and the half conscious Jess.
“What you planning on doin’ with that?” Sam looked pointedly at the coiled rope in Tom’s hand.
“Get outta my way, boy,” the belligerent man ordered his brother. “Dead or alive, his presence guarantees us access to that ranch, but it ain’t gonna’ do us no good if we git there after the stage. I’m gonna do us all a favor and finish the job the river started. I’m gonna tie his worthless carcass over his saddle.”
Tom made to move forward again, maneuvering his horse to shove Sam’s mount out of the way, but instead of submitting as he always had, Sam responded by nudging his own horse forward, thwarting the angry outlaw.
“You defying me, Sam? Damnation, maybe there is a real man inside that yella hide of yours.” Tom glared at his brother. “Ya picked the wrong time and the wrong man ta decide to make yer stand against. Git outta my way, else yer likely to be joining him tied over yer saddle. The horse can carry two bodies as easy as one that way.” As he spoke, Tom drew his gun, fully intending to shoot his own kin. The lust for the money had totally taken over, threatening to tip his mind into the total madness that had always been close.
Sam’s gut turned upside down as he realized the moment of truth had finally come. Sam would have to defend himself against his own brother and win, or both he and Jess would pay a heavy price.
Before either could act, Mace intervened, grabbing the reins on Tom’s horse. He pressed his own gun painfully into Tom’s side. The click of the hammer being pulled back stopped Tom dead in his tracks.
“Enough! I want Harper alive when we get to that ranch. He’ll be our ace in the hole. This job will be a lot easier if we’re all playing our part, but, so help me, you push me much further and I’ll pull this trigger. I’m not going to let your lust for revenge ruin everything. You’ll get your chance later. Hell, I’ll even help.” Mace’s voice was cold and menacing. “Now, put up your gun, because if it comes down to a choice, Harpers more use to me alive right now than you are.
Cold hatred flared in Tom’s eyes, but it was nothing to the cold calculating evil he could see answering him from Maces impassive face. He felt, perhaps for the first time in his life, what true fear was. He did a rapid retake of the situation and decided it just wasn’t worth it. He told himself his revenge could wait. Once the money was secure, he would have time to savor it fully.
He shoved his gun back into its holster hard, and wheeled his horse around, knocking hard against Sam’s mount. Some of his anger found its release in the satisfaction of knowing he had almost knocked his brother out of the saddle.
As he passed Sam, he spoke in a low voice, intending it for Sam’s ears alone. “You and me is gonna have us a little discussion, right after you watch me have my fun with Harper. Only thing your intervention has gained him is an even more painfully slow death.”
“Hold on,” Mace ordered.
“What now,” Tom spat out.
“I need that rope.” Mace demanded, holding out his hand.
Tom, still resentful, put up a token resistance. “What for? You done said we can’t tie him over his saddle without killin’ him.”
“No, but your basic idea ain’t that bad. We can tie him in the saddle and secure his hands round the horse’s neck. That way we can push the horses and make good time without him falling off,” Mace turned his icy stare on Sam. “And if you raise one single objection, I might just change my mind and go along with your brothers first idea.”
With a sad glance over his shoulder at the sick man, Sam moved his horse out of the way. He watched helplessly, vowing to make it up to Jess somehow, as Mace none to gently roped him into his saddle. The outlaw leader was not feeling kindly disposed towards the ailing man. As much as he needed Jess in the plan, his presence and infirmity was proving more than annoying to him. When this was over, Mace just might give in to his own sadistic urges and join Tom in taking revenge for all this inconvenience. In the meantime, he derived a perverse satisfaction from hurting Jess in this way. Mace finished the job by tying Jess’ arms forward around the horse’s neck, uncaring of the potential damage this action could cause Jess’ broken arm and ribs.
Jess was barely aware of the world around him. He heard voices, some more threatening than others, the words drifted in and out, they’re meaning lost in the red haze of pain that filled his mind. He felt the less than gentle hands on his body, and then, without warning, his broken arm was wrenched forward and held there. A cry of protest was forced from his dry throat as the pain speared through him. Mercifully, he fell into oblivion.
Sam had remained, his eyes downcast, close by, unable to intervene but not willing to abandon his charge completely. Each low moan from the hurting man tore through him, but when the agonized cry wrenched through his soul, he sat upright, his entire attention on Jess and Mace.
“What the Hell you done to him?” he demanded, his fear for Jess giving him false courage.
Mace laughed cruelly. “Forgot about his broken arm. No matter, it’s done now. Should be all right s’long as he don’t slip in the saddle. Don’t you threat none, you can check him over at the ranch and re-set it if you have to.” Mace turned and looked pointedly at Tom. “Then again, don’t know why you’d want to bother, given what your brother has in mind. Here.” He tossed the reigns to Jess’ horse at Sam. “You lead his horse, and you’d best keep up.”
The note of warning in the cold voice chilled Sam to the bone. Before he could respond, Mace slapped Jess’ horse on the rump and the horse jumped forward, heading in the general direction of Laramie. Sam had no choice but to urge his own horse into keeping up, the malicious laughter of the two outlaws echoing behind him.
Just after noon the tense group of riders reached the last rise before he road turned down towards the Relay Station. Mace had kept them all to a fast pace since their last stop, allowing no halts or respite in their speed. When he reined in his horse and called a halt, the others were taken by surprise and had to pull their mounts up hard to avoid colliding with him.
Sam had been unable to check on the state of Jess’ condition other than to sneak a sideways glance at his slumped form as they rode. Only the pain filled groans that came from the man at the sudden bumps caused by changes in the horses stride as it maneuvered over the rough road told him that Jess Harper was still alive.
Sam dismounted quickly, aware that the sudden stop must have jarred the now semi-conscious man severely. Reaching up, he brushed the heavy dark hair back from Jess’ sweat-drenched forehead. “We’ve got to give him a break. His fevers back up, Mace. This pace is killing him.” When Mace made no reply, Sam grew brave and continued. “Like you said, Mace. This will be easier if Jess can function. Give me a minute. I’ll get him down and get some water in him and check him over.”
“You’ve got ten minutes. Tom, give him a hand to get Jess boy down. And mind you do it gentle like.” Now that their destination was within easy reach, Mace became conciliatory again, starting to act like he had Jess’ best interest and welfare at heart. For the time being it suited him to ensure Jess was able to work with him and help in the plan to gain control of the relay Station that lay just ahead.
Jess became aware of hands on him, working the tight ropes loose. Gently his arms were released and the broken one was brought slowly back towards his chest. He gasped as his arm, that had become numb during the ride, woke into life again. He heard a familiar voice speak soothingly to him.
“Jess, I know yer arm and ribs are hurting, but I’m gonna have to get you down from the horse so I can check them. Try and relax and let me do the work,” Sam instructed.
Forcing his eyes to open and focus on the face hovering close to him, Jess gave a brief nod. He did his best to comply, taking slow deep breaths in an effort to fight back the nausea and pain, and focusing his entire being into letting himself relax into Sam’s guiding hands. It was working to, until another voice tore through his senses and another set of hands started to pull him off his horse. Jess tensed up immediately and the pain intensified again.
“We ain’t got all day, boy. Here, I’ll do it.” Sam was pushed away and Tom yanked Jess down and onto the hard-packed ground. “There, that weren’t so bad. Aint’ no point mamby pamby’in around. Just get it done quick and git it over with.”
Sam wasn’t paying any attention to his brother as the snickering man moved away. He dropped to his knees besides Jess. Gently he eased his arm around Jess’ shoulders, taking care not to jar his broken shoulder. Holding the canteen to Jess’ dry lips he helped him to drink.
Jess’ pain glazed eyes locked on Sam’s “T–Thanks,” he croaked. He took another swallow and tried again. “W–What’s g–got him s–so sore?” His lips quirked upwards in an effort to convince his young friend he was all right.
“Just being his normal lovable self, I guess.” Sam responded.
His eyes flickering around the area, Jess realized the others had moved away. He reached up and tugged on Sam’s sleeve.
“S–Sam, something’s w–wrong, and I r–reckon y-you know —?” Jess didn’t need to say more, he could read his answer in Sam’s face as the young man tried to avoid looking directly at him.
“Jess, Y–You mustn’t trust them.” Sam stammered out.
Confused by the pain, Jess struggled to make his world make sense. “W–Who?”
Sam nodded once, his eyes flickering to his brother and Mace as they stood off to one side discussing their next move. Before he could say more Mace turned to look in their direction.
Always suspicious, Mace had realized that he had left Jess alone too long with Sam.
“Ain’t you got him sorted yet?” he asked as he walked back towards the two men.
More alert now, Jess noticed that Sam flinched back and tensed up as Mace joined them. It wasn’t the sort of reaction he’d have expected. ‘Was this what Sam mean’t?’ he thought.
Mace leaned in closer. “You bout ready to carry on now?” he asked of both men.
“I need to support his arm. I don’t want it hurt more and I need to bind his ribs again, the bandage has loosened” Sam improvised. “After all, Jess won’t be much help if’n he can’t at least hold a gun steady.”
“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with Jess’ left arm, but you’ve got five minutes. Here” Mace thrust a dirty bandana at Sam. “Use this to make a sling.”
Hesitating, Sam carefully considered his next words. He knew Jess was in pain and pain could cloud your thinking. The laudanum would help, but if he was to have any chance to warn Jess, then he needed the man clear headed and too large a dose would muddle his thinking as much as the pain. Perhaps a small dose of the opiate was the answer?
He risked asking Mace. “Maybe we should give him a small dose of painkiller?”
“No. We need you clear headed, don’t we, Jess. Besides, Jess don’t like taking the stuff, do you?”
“Didn’t s–stop you before,” Jess shot back at Mace. Then he softened his voice and turned to Sam. “Thanks Sam, b–but he’s right. I don’t t-take to it much, and I b-been muddled enough l-lately. My heads getting c-clearer all the time, I’d kinda l-like to keep it t-that way.”
As far as Mace was concerned, he needed Harper in the game if things were to go to plan, but he knew he’d have to keep a close eye on the man. He was pretty certain his ‘brainwashing’ had taken and Jess wasn’t going to remember his real self anytime soon, but if the man was thinking more clearly, it meant he warranted watching closely.
Sam had rebound Jess’ ribs and finished placing Jess’ arm in the makeshift sling. Gently he gave him another drink of water and then helped him to his feet. Jess’ weakness betrayed itself in the tremors Sam could feel coursing through the lean frame as he guided Jess back to his horse.
“Hold up,” Mace ordered. “Get him up on your horse.”
Uncertain just what deviousness Mace had in mind, Sam hesitated. “I thought you said you didn’t want to tire the horses by us riding double?”
“Don’t get smart! We got maybe ten minutes before we get to the ranch. Its right over that rise.” Mace nodded down the road. It’ll look better if’n we’re seen to be helpin’ him and being real caring like.”
Moving closer, Mace surprised Sam by actually helping Jess back into the saddle himself. Then he heard Mace speak and realized it was all part of his plan. “Okay, Jess boy, this is it. You go right along with whatever them folk at the station say. If’n they ask too much just pull the ‘can’t think to clearly’ act and there shouldn’t be a problem. Be ready to pull your gun at my signal or at the first sign of trouble if things go wrong.”
Jess left hand reached unconsciously to his empty holster. “C–Cain’t oblige ya if’n I ain’t p–packing.”
“Oh, yeah. I kinda forgot that important detail. Trust you to be keeping yer eye on the whole picture. Always said you was the brains in this outfit. So far you ain’t led us wrong and we’ve managed to elude the law.” Mace continued to use every opportunity to enforce the false reality on Jess. “Tom’s got your weapon. He found it down by the river. He cleaned it up for you and has been holding on to it until you was ready.” Mace turned away and pulled Sam with him.
As he marched Sam towards his brother he spoke softly, ensuring Jess didn’t hear. “You know I ain’t the trusting sort, and I sure s hell don’t trust you. Just remember, I’ll be close by. You keep your trap shut and play along. If I think for one minute your double crossing us, then you’re dead, and your brother gets to have some fun with your friend.” The threat was clear enough and Sam nodded his acceptance meekly.
As Sam returned to his friend and mounted up behind him, Mace was arguing with a truculent Tom.
“This gun is mine; I dun told ya. I’m gonna use it on Harper when I’m finished with him. I reckon it’ll be fitting to kill him with his own gun.”
“You’ll get it back. But I need him to appear armed right now. Now hand it over.” Mace stared hard at the cold-hearted killer, and Tom knew what it felt like to look death in the face.
Tom wasn’t going to back down that easily. “Yer surely not stupid enough to give him a gun. What if he remembers and turns it on us?”
“He’d have a problem with that, seeing as I ain’t leaving any bullets in it.” Mace sneered at Tom. “Now empty the chamber and give me the gun.”
Reluctantly, Tom obliged, keeping his body between Jess and Sam’s line of sight and what he was doing. When he had finished, Mace snatched the gun from Tom’s reluctant grasp. He went to move away, but stopped just long enough to give Tom a barely audible warning “Don’t you EVER assume I’m stupid, Brading. Next time you’ll wind up dead.” Mace could practically smell that payroll in his hands, he wasn’t going to let this stupid bully jeopardize his plans for his future.
Returning to where Sam was mounted behind Jess, supporting the weakened man against his chest, Mace handed the next to useless gun up to Jess. Despite his current state, years on the drift with his gun as his only protection came into play. Jess lifted the gun towards his holster and then stopped. Briefly he hefted the weapon, judging its weight.
“Kinda light, isn’t it?” Jess asked, staring hard at Mace through narrowed eyes. “I ain’t g-gonna be much use to you if’n I cain’t f-follow through”
“Shouldn’t be a need to if things go to plan, and besides they won’t know that.” Mace replied, then realizing that Jess was now even more suspicious of his true intentions, he added. “Now Jess, come on. Think about it. Yer far from well and the ride’s left you weaker than a kitten. I don’t want to risk those folk at the relay station taking advantage of it. If they get your gun from you, it won’t do them any good. You understand that now, don’t you, Jess, Boy.”
Not at all happy about the situation, and now even more convinced Mace was keeping something from him, Jess shoved the useless gun into his holster.
“Sure,” he said, the doubt undisguised in his raspy voice.
Mace heard it but knew that Jess was far too committed to his false identity for it to make any difference now. He mounted up and headed down the road, signaling the others to follow.
“Sam, You tried t–to tell me something earlier?” Jess prompted, keeping his voice low.
“Look, Jess, ”Sam started, “ Don’t believe everything they tell you. Can’t you remember anything at all yet?” Sam had very little time and was truly worried at how just blurting out the truth, as he knew it, would affect the already confused man. He’d heard tales of amnesiacs that had gone into shock when a sudden return of memory was forced on them. Without proof, how was Jess to know just which reality was true.
Too late Sam recalled the photograph and letter in his jacket pocket. Right now he couldn’t reach it. As soon as he could, maybe that would be enough to convince Jess where his loyalty should lie. Even if Jess Harper accepted he was on the wrong side of the law, it was obvious the idea didn’t sit well with the basically honorable.
By now they had crested the hill and were riding down the road towards the small ranch house that sat nestled at the bottom of the valley, the hills stretching protectively behind it. As Mace slowed the group down to a gentle walk, Sam could make out a buckboard in front of the house. He saw the two figures checking the horses and recognized one of them as the blonde rancher he’d met by the river. Even as he watched, he saw the cabin door open and the figures of a woman and a young boy came out of the house.
‘So now it begins,’ Sam thought, protectively tightening his grip around Jess’ waist.
Chapter 22
As Daisy was busy giving last minute instructions to Slim and Andy regarding some minor repairs she expected to be done in her absence, Mike had climbed up onto the buckboard seat and was peering of in the general direction of Laramie, eager to be on his way.
Slim gave one last reassurance to Daisy that the small hole in the roof would be repaired. Then he placed his hands around her waist to help lift her onto the seat. Suddenly Mike jumped up, shouting “Slim, there’s riders coming. Three of them and they’re trailing another horse.”
More than a little cautious since the payroll stage was due in that afternoon, Slim ordered Andy to stay with Daisy and Mike, while he moved away from the house to get a clearer view of the approaching men. He walked towards them, his right-hand hovering near his gun butt. As they drew nearer, he recognized the two men he had met on the Laramie Road what felt like an eternity ago. Then the third rider moved forward from behind the other two.
Slim could see that this third horse was carrying two men. The one man was obviously supporting the other who sat slumped in front of him. There was something vaguely familiar about the slumped figure that was being held safely by the other rider. Slim squinted his eyes hard against the sun that was behind the riders at this time of the day, trying to make out the faces.
He managed to see the rear riders face and remembered the young man from the river, but it was the fourth man that was unsettling him. This one was slumped forward; only being kept in the saddle by the protective arms of the boy Slim now recalled was called Sam. The color of the jacket and the shape of the body stirred memories that Slim’s mind refused to accept. His heart felt like a fist was clenched about it, and he berated himself for even considering the figure was familiar. Then a cloud crossed in front of the sun and Slim was given a clearer glimpse of the group.
Suddenly he was running, heart racing and his mouth dry. He pounded up the hill toward the riders, who continued their cautious approach. Slim dived between the first two horses and lunged at the reigns of the third, causing the horse to dance back in fright.
“J –Je–.”Slim found his voice had deserted him. He cleared his throat and tried again “Jess?” He reached tentatively forward and rested his hand on the leg of the ‘brother’ he had accepted as lost to him forever. He patted Jess’ leg gently, re-assuring himself it was solid, that his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him.
“Jess? Oh, Dear Lord, Jess. It really is you.” This was half statement, half question, as Slim felt his world tilt and resettle itself anew. He swiped at the moisture that threatened to spill from his eyes.
The dark head lifted and turned towards the sound of the tantalizingly familiar voice, and pain clouded eyes tried to focus on the hauntingly familiar features, seeking to put a name and a memory to them. Whether from true memory, dreams or Mace’s enforced recollections, a name came to Jess. A name that somehow made everything seem all right, yet Jess couldn’t say why.
“S–Slim?” Jess’ voice was barely a whisper.
“You bet! Where the Hell have you been?” Even as he said it, Slim knew he wasn’t really thinking clearly, that it wasn’t even remotely important.
“Mister,” Sam interceded. “He ain’t been too clear headed since I found him. Right now he’s fevered and the ride here ain’t helped him. Do yer think we can leave the questions till after we get him in the house and settled.” Sam wasn’t interested in Mace’s plans, he needed to get Jess somewhere safe to check him over, and if that meant playing along for now, then he’d do just that.
The shock of seeing Jess back from the dead had left Slim too confused to think logically. Now he stopped and looked hard at his best friend. He finally took in the white features, the familiar tight set to the jaw that spoke volumes about the pain Jess was trying to hide. His eyes told him Jess may be back but he was far from home and dry.
Suddenly Slim was all action. Grabbing the horse’s bridle, he led it towards the house, issuing orders as he went. “Daisy, get the stove going and Mike, get my bed turned down.”
Daisy had been unable to see clearly just whom Slim was with, but it was obvious that they had an injured man with them and Slim was ready to help. She picked up her skirts and flew into the house, with Mike close on her heels.
As they neared the corral, Andy stepped toward his older brother.
“Andy, show the men where to put up the horses. Then I’ll need you inside.”
Slim had spoken to him as he turned towards the double mounted horse; his body effectively blocking Andy’s view of the injured man slumped forward in the arms of the rider behind him.
“But Slim, what’s going on?”
“Andy don’t argue. Just do it.” Slim was reaching upwards as the injured man slid down, guided by Sam, into his protective arms.
“Easy with him,” Slim enjoined, as he adjusted his grip to cradle Jess in his arms. Slim hefted him easily, and felt the cold hand of fear grip him. Jess felt so light and hot. “I got you, Jess, you’re safe now.”
Andy had been leading the others to the barn when he heard the name that Slim had uttered. His heart skipped a beat. ‘No’ he thought, ‘that can’t be right. I got to stop thinking about him.’ With a sigh he continued toward the barn. Working quickly, he showed Sam and the others where to put their horses, then he left them to it. “I got to head back and help my brother. You best come up to the house when you’re finished.”
“That’s fine, boy,” Mace said casually. “By the way, I’m Mace, and this here is Tom and his brother Sam.”
“I’m Andy, Andy Sherman,” Andy said as he left the barn. Then, as an afterthought he turned back to them. “Don’t you fret any about your friend. Daisy and Slim will help him.”
“Hell, boy. Is that what you think. We only met him a week or so ago. Found him hurt out on the trail by the river.”
Andy was in a hurry to get back to the ranch house, but those last words grabbed and held his attention. His heart was beating so hard he thought they must surely hear it; he forced the words out past his mouth that suddenly seemed too dry. “W–Who is he?”
“Goes by the name of Jess Harper. Says he works here.” Mace said casually, knowing full well the effect his words would have. He hadn’t expected another man at the ranch other than Slim, but Andy had cleared up the mystery when he gave his name.
Andy had heard nothing past the name Jess Harper. He whirled around and ran like the wind for the house.
Daisy had her back to the door, busy setting out her medical supplies. It wasn’t the best of timing for some-one to come to the ranch, what with the payroll stage due to pass through and the family at the relay station still in mourning for their lost member. Still, one of them was hurt, and she wouldn’t turn her back on someone needing her help. Yet again she would have cause to be grateful for the time she had spent as a nurse.
Mike came out of Slim’s bedroom just as Slim shouldered his way through the cabin door, carefully maneuvering his precious bundle to avoid colliding with the wooden frame.
“Out of the way, Mike, now!” Slim snapped, worry making him speak more sharply than he intended.
Mike stood back to the side, studying the body cradled in Slim’s arms. He took in the pale features and dark hair of the head that rested on Slim’s chest. Then he was jumping forward, uncaring of what Slim had said.
“Jess!” his small hands reached to touch the pale cheek of the older brother he had thought lost forever. “Slim, it is Jess,” he stated, almost questioning what he was seeing.
“Yes, Mike, and he’s hurt. Go get Daisy.” Slim continued through to the bedroom as Daisy came out of the kitchen concerned at the distress she heard in Mike’s voice, and not believing what she had heard.
“Mike, are you alright. I know you were looking forward—–. Oh, my!” Daisy stopped dead in her tracks and her hand flew up to her mouth in shock. Her eyes must be playing tricks on her. She had just caught a glimpse of the retreating back of Slim as he went into the bedroom, and the familiar dark head that lay limply against his chest.
Heart pounding, she raced after Slim and moved around to the other side of the cot. Slim gently laid his friend down, moving carefully as if he feared one wrong move would break Jess into pieces.
Jess had felt himself falling off the horse and had been powerless to stop his descent to the ground. But instead of the jarring impact of the hard ground, he found himself caught by gentle hands and cradled like a baby against the strong chest of the one who’s face had haunted his fever dreams during his worst times.
As those strong arms carried him into the ranch house, Jess mind exploded into pain. Disjointed memories assailed him, meaning nothing but promising everything. His body remained unmoving but his eyes moved restlessly around the unsettlingly familiar room as he was carried through it. ‘Of course, its familiar’, his conditioned consciousness’ assured him. ‘ I’ve been working here for a month or so.’
He felt himself lowered to the bunk and he groaned as his injured side caught the edge of the bed.
“I’m sorry, Jess. I didn’t know you’d hurt your side as well.” Slim had been extremely careful of the obviously broken arm but hadn’t been aware of Jess’ other injuries.
Through the confusion that was threatening to overtake him, Jess vaguely wondered why this man, supposedly his employer, seemed so deeply concerned about him. He tried to snatch at a memory that presented itself, of this same man, shaking his hand and the word ‘partner’ spoke softly to him. The effort was too much for him and his world shattered into a thousand pieces, each one trying to burn him up.
“No!” he screamed and struggled upwards off the bed against the gentle but firm hands that sought to keep him safe from himself.
Another voice, soft and feminine, broke through the confusion and pain, bringing him back to the reality he thought he knew. Jess forced the disjointed memories back into the darkness and found himself looking directly into soft gray eyes filled with concern and something more. Love? Joy? It didn’t make any sense. Why was this silver haired woman seemingly so worried about a drifter, a casual hired hand?
Her hand reached out and gently brushed his heavy dark hair back from his eyes. Her gentle eyes where filled with moisture that spilled over and ran, unheeded down her cheeks.
“Jess?” Her voice was barely a whisper, as if she feared speaking loudly would break the spell. “Dear Lord, Jess, it really is you. The good Lord has answered our prayers.”
When he looked at her, his eyes mirrored the confusion he felt. She easily read it and reasoned he couldn’t have known that they had thought him dead.
“When Slim brought Mike back without you and he told us what had happened at the river, Slim and the others from town searched for days. We couldn’t find a sign of you and finally we had to give up.” She gave a low sob, remembering the pain of accepting his loss. “We thought you were dead, son.”
Jess’ mind raced. Son? He didn’t feel like her son. Was she his mother? No, his memories, such as they were, put another face to that name, and yet within him, her presence aroused feelings so close to those he would have for a mother.
He struggled to bring the strong emotions and the faces around him into some sort of order Reaching up he gently touched her cheek with a trembling hand. “D–Daisy?” The name slipped out hesitantly.
“Yes, Jess. I’m here. I’m going to take care of you. Let’s get you cleaned up first and see what damage you’ve done to yourself.” She looked across the bed to the tall blonde waiting patiently. “Slim, get me a basin of hot water and some fresh bandages, please,” she instructed.
As Slim moved to do as he was asked, Jess’ eyes flicked to him and his retreating outline. He gasped as the outline brought another memory crashing back. The river, sweeping him away, and that same face etched with shock and pain standing on the river bank. As quickly as it came, the memory was snatched away as a child’s voice broke through to him.
“But it really is Jess, Slim. Please let me see him,” Mike pleaded.
“Soon, Mike. I know how you feel, but right now he’s hurt and in pain and we need to see to his hurts.” Slim had stopped Andy and Mike as they were heading into the bedroom. “Look, I promise you can see him as soon as Daisy’s got him settled.”
Reluctantly the two boys obeyed, stepping back into the living room, but Jess had heard the child’s voice and it awoke a strong protective instinct in him. A feeling that was deep and far from casual. The two names caused further confusion as two young faces floated at the corners of his mind, different and yet the same somehow. Then another young boys face joined them and flames leapt and danced around them and Jess cried out again, in fear and anger.
The soft hand was there again, and a cool cloth bathed his face, as the gentle voice intoned. “ It’s all right Jess, you’re safe at home again. Just lie still and relax. It will be alright,” and he found himself believing her.
By now Sam had joined her, concerned for the welfare of his new friend. He helped her, carefully detailing Jess’ injuries and what he had done for him. He told her of the bouts of fever that Jess had fought and then the lung fever that had almost claimed his life.
“It’ll be all right now,” she assured Sam. “You’ve done a good job. Better than a lot of men I’ve met that called themselves doctors. Thank you.”
Basking in the warm glow of Daisy’s praise, Sam found himself really liking this family. He became even more determined that somehow, he had to prevent his brother and Mace from carrying out their plan.
Sam’s familiar presence reassured Jess and he allowed himself to relax as Daisy worked on him. He watched her as she worked, quickly but gently, stripping, cleaning and re-dressing his wounds and rebinding his aching ribs. Every move and facial expression warmed him and seemed so familiar; too familiar for the casual acquaintance he believed they had.
Daisy was aware of his eyes following her around; finally, she turned to him and asked, “Whatever is the matter, Jess? You’re acting like you’ve never seen me before.”
“I–I ain’t too clear in the head right now. I–I’m s–sorry, ma-am,” he said truthfully. He didn’t need to act the part as Mace had told him to do. His confusion was genuine enough.
“He’s had a nasty bump on the head, Ma-am, and his memories been a mite confused since we found him. Don’t worry; I’m sure it’ll soon come back. Why, he’s been recalling a little more each day since he came around a few days ago.” Mace stepped into the room as he spoke.
He had been standing watching the proceedings, pretending concern but in fact making sure everything was going to plan. He had been concerned as he noticed Jess’ reaction to his surroundings but for now Jess still seemed on board with the plan.
Slim had been trying to get some sense from the two men in the living room, but other than a vague explanation of their finding Jess he had not got much detail. He had an uneasy feeling about all of it. Something kept nagging at him, but he put it down to the shock and relief of having his best friend return from the dead.
He had served them coffee and tried to keep Andy and Mike from bursting into the bedroom to see Jess. That wasn’t an easy thing, since he wanted to do the very same thing himself. As the men who called themselves Mace and Tom weaved their half-truths, Slims eyes kept straying to the bedroom, each soft groan drawn from Jess pulling at his soul and calling him to his side.
When Mace had stood up and wandered over to the bedroom, Slim had become uneasy but had covered it well. Then Daisy’s soft voice called him in.
“Slim, I’m all finished for now. Perhaps you could bring some fresh water in for Jess to drink and the boys’ could come in for a minute, if Jess feels up to it.”
Whether Jess agreed or not was lost in the melee as Andy and Mike rushed past Slim into the room.
Daisy’s soft laughter could be heard. “Now, now, boys. Take it easy. I know you really want to see Jess, but he isn’t up to much right now.”
“It’s all right, Ma’am. I–I don’t mind,” Jess managed.
Daisy frowned, confused by his somewhat formal response, but she quickly dismissed her concerns as she saw the pure joy mirrored on Andy and Mikes faces as they finally saw for themselves that Jess was alive and back with them.
Jess had genuinely wanted to see the two boys, their faces stirring warm feelings deep within him. His feelings ran deeper than a casual acquaintance with these people, but his link to the boys was particularly stirring. He recalled more clearly another young boy and a fire, but this time he recalled who it was. His younger brother finally reclaimed his place in Jess’ confused memories, but just why these other two young faces now looking so earnestly at him should stir such deep feelings Jess couldn’t work out.
Slim had joined the others around his bed and was carefully helping Jess take a drink of water. Inevitably the questions started, and Jess could only answer truthfully that he recalled very little. Daisy reassured him and the others that sometimes a blow to the head could cause some confusion and memory loss, but usually it was temporary. Jess still didn’t know if he wanted to remember who he was, given what Mace and Tom had told him.
As the group talked, Mace stood in the doorway, watching the proceedings. Behind him, Tom was moving stealthily around the ranch house, checking and collecting any gun or possible weapon he could find. Slim Sherman may have forgotten the imminent arrival of the payroll stage, but the two outlaws certainly hadn’t.
Coming up behind Mace, Tom quietly informed him that he had either unloaded or disabled any guns, rifles or knifes he could find. Tom pulled his pocket watch out of his jeans and flicked it open. If everything were going as scheduled in Laramie, the payroll stage would be due at the relay station in less than an hour. It was time to put the rest of the plan into place.
Tom moved himself back to the front door, and picking up another cup of coffee on the way, lounged casually against the doorpost. The laid-back stance his body conveyed was not reflected in his cold, hard eyes. He was able, standing as he was, to both see the road to the ranch and observe the occupants of the living room, ready to back Mace if it was needed.
Mace called over to Sam. “Sam, why don’t you give those good folk some time alone with Jess. I think Tom might be wanting you.”
A cold shiver ran up Sam’s back. He still hadn’t been able to warn either Jess or his family with Mace constantly watching. Now it would appear it was too late. There was no way he could ignore the summons without endangering these people. Excusing himself he reluctantly went to join his brother.
Jess eyes watched him go, a mixture of loss, fear and confusion in his tired eyes. Then Slim was talking again, telling him about his own funeral and how the whole town had turned out.
“I guess everyone will be celebrating when they hear you’ve come back to us,” Slim stated truthfully, “and I reckon I’ve got a grave to dig up.” Slim tried to make light of the bizarre situation.
“Huh?” Jess had only been half following the conversation. “W—Whose grave?”
“Yours, of course,” an exuberant Mike chipped in, unaware of the chilling effect his words had.
A tremor ran through Jess’ thin frame. His grave, my God, they had really had a funeral for him. Even as the horror of that thought sunk in, he found himself wondering why these people had gone to all that trouble for a hired ranch hand they’d only know casually for a couple of months at the most. He’d like to think he had made a good impression, but he knew most people would have seen him as just another saddle bum and had his remains put unceremoniously in Boot Hill.
“You–you had a funeral f–for me?” he asked incredulously, and then another thought struck him. He might have found it amusing if he wasn’t finding it all so confounded confusing. “ What d–did you b–bury? I–I mean, well, I’m h–here an all.”
Slim suddenly realized how all this must sound to his best friend. He had been so emotionally overwhelmed by the resurrection of his ‘brother’, he’d just found himself babbling. In fact they all had all been doing precisely that. He realized Jess must be feeling totally overwhelmed.
“You just rest, Jess. I promise I’ll tell you it all in time, and then you can tell us what happened to you after I lost you to the river. That must be some story.” Slim was about to order everyone out of the room, when Mace’s voice interrupted him again.
“I got to know Jess kinda well these past days, and even though I know he’ll deny it, I think he needs to rest up right now.” He waited until Slim nodded and stood with the others, indicating he agreed, and then Mace took the next step in his plan. “Tom, Sam and I will be heading out soon, we have business to see to in Laramie. Would you mind if I said my goodbye’s to Jess boy here before he settles down?”
Unable to explain it, Slim felt uneasy about agreeing to this, but since it would appear these people had saved Jess’ life, he didn’t see how he could refuse the seemingly harmless request.
“Sure, if Jess feels up to it?” Slim glanced at Jess who gave the barest of nods. Turning to the rest of his family he continued, “Come on, let’s give these two some peace.”
Jess had almost been tempted to say no. For a moment he had felt a strong urge to warn the blonde rancher, who seemed to have appointed himself his guardian angel, that his return was all part of an elaborate plan to gain control of the relay station and rob the army payroll.
Despite his weakness and confusion, he recognized the danger that it would place the woman called Daisy and the two younger boys in. Even if he could get them to believe him, they were all too vulnerable right now.
As they left, and Mace entered the room followed by Tom and Sam, Jess remembered that he himself was a wanted man, according to Mace. Although Sam had warned him against something, Jess was unsure quiet what Sam was alluding to, and so far, he had no proof to go on that would say anything was different than what Mace had told him.
Lord, his head hurt. Trying to think clearly just seemed to make things worse, and just when he thought he was starting to remember things, something would trigger an explosion in his brain and he would lose all coherent thought in a red haze of pain.
Tom shut the bedroom door behind him, and stood against it to make sure no one came in unannounced.
“Sam and I have had our little talk. He knows what he has to do” Tom sneered at his brother as he spoke.
When Sam had gone to his brother at Mace’s insistence, Tom had made it very clear that any disobedience on his part would condemn these people to a painful death at Tom’s hands. His sadistic older brother had delighted in telling him of his plans for Jess and how forcing him to watch as he killed his family one by one would only add to his pleasure.
The one thing that had been held out as a carrot to ensure Sam’s co-operation was the promise of leaving the family alive when it was all over. Of course that offer excluded Jess Harper. Nothing was going to interfere with Tom Brading’s plans for that man.
“All right, Jess. This is it. So far, they have bought our story and have been so wrapped up in you they haven’t noticed we’ve disabled their guns.”
“I–I been wanting to ask about that,” Jess interrupted. He needed to ask his next question, but why he would think Mace would give him a truthful answer, had him beat. Still, he asked,” These folks seem to be mighty concerned about m–me. See’in I’m j–just a cowhand t—they’ve only k-known fer a few w–weeks.”
“Beats me, Jess,” Mace smoothly dismissed Jess’ concerns. “Must be on account of you bein’ such a likable fella an all. You always did make a good impression.”
“Sure,” Jess responded, his tone of voice conveying that he was not convinced but realized this was all the answer he was going to get. His glanced at Sam, but he got no help there as Sam kept his face carefully neutral.
“In a minute, Jess, we’re going to make like we’re leavin’ for Laramie. Yer’er going to call us back and ask these good folk to offer us a good hot meal before we leave. A small thing by way of sayin’ thank you for all we done for you.”
“Yeah, but maybe they — ” Jess started to reply, hoping he’d get lucky and they’d say no.
“Ain’t no maybe in it, Jess, boy. You had better make sure they agree, if’n you know what’s good fer yer.” Tom blustered and threatened.
Seeing the anger flash in Jess’ eyes, Mace sought to keep the situation calm. He needed Jess’ co-operation for the time being. “Tom’s just a bit strung out. That money’s as good as ours. I know you won’t let us down, boy.”
Bringing his warring emotions under control, Jess nodded. He had no choice but to play along for now.
“Right after that, your gonna make on you need to rest, get them all to leave you unattended. When we’re sitting down to the meal, I want you to make sure everyone is in sight in the room. Then you can get the drop on them. Your guns over on that chair with your shirt.” Mace tilted his head over at the chair where Daisy had carefully laid out a fresh shirt and placed Jess’ gun belt when Slim had first helped her remove Jess’ tattered old shirt and boots.
“W–What makes you t–think I’ll be able to g–get the drop on em?” Jess was finding the trip and then the stress of the reunion was rapidly catching up on him, his eyes where heavy and his arms and legs felt like lead. Then apart from his physical inability to oblige, he wasn’t at all convinced he wanted to do this.
The smile that crept across Mace’s face was chilling. “Why, Jess, that ain’t so hard to figure out. Those good folk are likely to be watching us, us bein’ strangers and all. But they ain’t going to be watching you, especially when they think yer’er resting up, like they want you to. I told you that you were our ace in the hole.”
The reluctance Jess felt must have been easy to read as Tom moved to stand behind Sam. His younger brother had remained stoically silent, but he jumped visibly as Tom’s hand gripped his shoulder firmly. Though the words Tom used were neutral, the implied threat was clear to Jess.
“Sam done saved your life, Jess. You owe him. If you mess this up, Sam might be the one ends up getting’ hurt.” Tom gripped Sam’s shoulder harder and Jess saw him flinch.
“All right, you got it,” Jess hissed through clenched teeth. More and more he was getting a bad feeling about all of this.
“Glad yer seen it our way, Jess,” Mace moved to the door. “Sam, Tom you come with me. Let’s get this show on the road.”
Chapter 23
When Jess had asked if his new friends could at least stay for a meal before they left, Daisy was happy to oblige. She had already started laying the table for extra guests and had been quickly preparing a meal, happily sacrificing the pie she had prepared for their supper.
She was grateful for what these men had done, her heart was singing with joy now that her middle son had been returned to her, and yet she felt uneasy in their presence. It was wrong, she knew, to feel that way, but there was just something about them, especially the older two, that made her feel ill at ease. But she owed them a debt she could never hope to repay, and the very least she could do was offer them a hot meal. Then they would be gone, and she would be free to lavish her love and attention on Jess.
Unknown to her, Slim was also experiencing a similar unease. He kept telling himself that it was due to his concerns over the imminent arrival of the payroll stage, compounded by the shock of the past hours. He was bound to feel shaken, given the wide range of emotions he had just experienced, plummeting to the depths of despair only to soar upwards again to sublime heights of happiness.
Jess, his best friend and ‘brother’ was back, risen, like Lazarus from the grave. Like Daisy, Slim wanted everyone gone. He wanted to just sit in the same room as his resting partner, simply looking at him, reassuring himself that Jess was really there, and that he wasn’t dreaming.
Although Slim tried to make pleasant conversation, he found his guests unsettling. The younger one was different. He remembered Sam from the river and had felt a genuine concern from him then, a concern he recognized as he saw how caring he was with Jess. He couldn’t say the same about the older men. He had sensed wariness in Jess when those two had been near, and from what he had observed, even Sam seemed to avoid his brother.
“Seems we are doomed ta keep meetin’ Sherman,” Tom said. “First at the river, and then in town. Never thought I’d be sittin’ at your table enjoying this fine meal though.”
Suddenly the thing that had been nagging at Slim became crystal clear as Tom made the mistake of mentioning their encounter at the Doctors. Hadn’t there been some mention of his brother or partner being unwell, nothing serious according to Tom, and yet it had warranted a long trip to town for medical supplies.
“I remember now, we met at the Docs. How is your brother now?” Slim asked cautiously.
For a moment the dull-witted Tom stared blankly at him, and then he remembered the feeble excuse he had given Slim at the time.
“Huh? Oh, yeah. He’s just fine now, I told yer it weren’t nothing much. Ain’t that right, Sam?”
Mace was glowering, intent on picking up on anything that might endanger his plan. ‘What the Hell had Tom being saying, anyway?’ he thought. The sooner this was over, the better. Tom was a liability, and once they were safely away with the money, he would find a nice convenient spot to lose him, permanently.
Taken completely off guard, Sam was unsure quite what to say. His thoughts had been occupied by trying to find a way to help these people and stop the violence that seemed inevitable.
“Yeah, those supplies helped Jess a lot,” he said lamely, only recalling a few words of the whole conversation.
As the meal had started, Daisy had offered Jess a plate, but he had seen Mace standing behind Daisy and declined when he saw him shake his head. He had appeased Daisy by promising to eat later, after he had slept.
Looking closely at him, Daisy had brushed her hand tenderly across his forehead and decided he was indeed exhausted.
“All right Jess, you do seem a little fevered. Get some rest. But I’ll be expecting you to clear your plate later. I hate it when you don’t eat, it’s a sure sign you’re really ill.”
He smiled weakly at her and snuggled lower under the blankets. Considering how he felt, it didn’t take much acting to convince the kindly woman he needed to sleep.
Jess felt guilty at having to trick her, but he couldn’t see any other way. He had very clear instructions from his so-called partners, but his true nature was fighting hard against the conditioning Mace had imposed on his fevered mind. If he truly was the wanted man he had been led to believe, then why was he feeling such deep concern for these people. By all accounts he was a stranger to them, a casual acquaintance of only a few weeks, and yet this kindly woman was caring for him like he was her own son.
The moment the door had shut behind her, Jess had sat up, bringing his legs over the edge of the bed. He groaned softly, his one good hand rubbing his throbbing temples. When the room finally stopped spinning, he stood slowly and moved with infinite care to where his shirt and gun belt had been laid out over the chair.
Just crossing the few feet to the chair took the strength out of him. He moved like an old man, hunched forward against the pain in his side and shoulder. Sighing, he sank down on the chair and started to put on his shirt.
He noticed that the shirt was fresh and clean. Unknown to him, Daisy had been unable to dispose of his clothes and had carefully cleaned them and placed them in her room. When Jess had suddenly and wonderfully been returned to them, she had hastily restored them to their rightful place in his room.
Thoughtfully he looked at the shirt, turning it over in his hands. There was a familiarity about the faded blue shirt, and vague memories rose to the front of his thoughts. Visions of the woman who had been with him earlier, Daisy, he recalled, sitting rocking by the fire and laughing as she asked him how he had managed to tear his shirt this time. Her needle flashed as she stitched the torn sleeve back into place. The sleeve he had torn when he and Slim had been repairing fences up on the high pastures.
‘Where had that come from,’ Jess thought. He shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs away from his mind. Sometimes, when the memories came, he felt like he was wading through molasses. Just when he thought he had it, the pain would come and his thoughts were scattered to the winds. The only thing clear to Jess right now was that nothing made any sense.
He did know that he didn’t want these kind people hurt, but for now he would play along, hoping that things would become clearer before it was too late. Having tried and failed to fasten all the buttons on the shirt his tiredness got the better of him. Jess settled for pulling it across his thin frame and tucking it down his trousers for the sake of modesty. He was almost dressed now and started to pull his boots on, while keeping an eye on the door in case someone should decide to check on him. This last effort proved beyond him and he had to admit defeat. Bare footed, Jess stood to face the door that led to his future such as it was.
Gun in hand he shuffled across to the door and opened it slightly, concentrating on he voices he could hear in the next room. He heard the edge in Slim’s voice as he asked about Tom’s visit to the Doctor, and Sam’s response regarding himself. Though Jess had little recall of the time at the shack, he did remember the Laudanum being forced on him.
Even as Slim’s next words left his mouth, Jess found himself asking the same question.
“You had found Jess already, when we met. Why didn’t you say anything?”
Mace’s right hand moved to his gun under the cover of the table but his voice remained calm. “I told him not to say anything. We didn’t know who he was then, or even if he’d survive. There was no point in raising false hopes. He was too ill to move, so I sent Tom for some supplies and we did what we could.”
Slim wasn’t buying it. “Why didn’t you fetch the Doctor to him?” Slim stood, pulling his gun as he did so. “Just what the Hell are you pullin’, Mister?”
Shocked, Daisy’s hand flew to her mouth. “Slim, What on earth–?” she started to say.
“Daisy, I met this one before the funeral,” he nodded in the general direction of Tom Brading. He was at the Doc’s, getting some medicine for his brother, he said. He even asked me if we’d found Jess yet. I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, but I do know you ain’t playin’ straight.” Slim’s mind was racing, trying to think of why they would have lied. The only answer he could think of was the payroll. The more he thought about it, the more the timing of their arrival at the relay station seemed too convenient to be mere co-incidence.
Mace glowered at Tom and tried again to placate the angry rancher. He doubted that Sherman would be fooled, but he was trying to delay things until Jess could interrupt the proceedings as he had been instructed.
“Now look here, Sherman. I don’t know what you mean. It’s like I said, we weren’t sure who he was, let alone—”
“I’m not buying it. Now I think about it, you had plenty of opportunity to get the Doc to Jess. You only have to look at him to know he needed the Doc a lot sooner than this.”
The more Jess listened, the more confused he was becoming. He knew who he was and what he was supposed to do to help pull the robbery off, but Sherman sounded genuinely concerned for him. Things just weren’t adding up. He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, the effort of dressing and standing at the door was sending his temperature up again. Once again, memories, both true and false, came crashing in on him. Jess wavered, uncertain of what to do.
The raised voices in the next room forced him to focus on what was happening. From where he stood he could see that Mace had drawn his own gun under cover of the table. If Jess didn’t act now, someone would end up hurt or possibly dead. That thought pained him more than he would have imagined. He stepped through the door, his gun aimed at Slim.
“Drop your weapon, Sherman, real slow.”
Unable to believe what he was hearing, Slim turned towards the sound of Jess’ voice. “Jess, what’s going on?”
“You heard me, put your weapon down on the table and don’t make any sudden moves.” Jess voice sounded weak, but his left hand was steady and the gun remained pointed at Slim.
Unsure if what was happening, but not wanting to hurt his best friend, Slim slowly lowered his gun.
“I don’t know what you’re doing, Jess. But it better be good.”
Jess ignored him. “Mace, you take over now,” Jess leant heavily against the doorpost. Suddenly he felt drained and empty.
As Mace stood, Slim saw the gun in his hand and realized that it must have been aimed at him beneath the table. Gratefully he glanced at Jess, and saw he was struggling to stay on his feet. Jess didn’t even notice, his mind was elsewhere, lost in misty memories that were far from pleasant. Questions without answers raced through his mind. Jess shuffled over to the rocking chair by the fireplace and sank down into it. Another memory of other times sitting here in comfortable companionship assailed him. Groaning, he let his head fall back and his eyes closed. Sam and Slim moved towards him together.
“Stay where you are, Sherman,” Mace ordered.
Slim froze, but his concerned gaze never wavered from Jess.
“He’s sick. He should be in bed,” Slim tried, needing desperately to help his partner.
“He’ll live. Tom, get that rope of yours and get these boys tied up. Sam, you help him.” Mace was about to order that Jess be tied up to, now that he had the upper hand, but then he changed his mind. Harper could still be useful, either as a lure to get the stage driver and guard into the house, or as a means to control Sherman and the others.
“Please, let me go to him,” Daisy tried, seeing the exhaustion written on Jess’ pain lined features.
Recognizing Jess may yet be useful, Mace nodded. “All right, Ma’am. But remember, my gun is pointed right at Sherman here, any wrong move and he gets it.”
Daisy gave Slim and the others a weak smile and went to Jess. By now Tom had Slim and Andy tied up back-to-back on the floor and was about to start on Mike.
“Wait, he’s only a boy. He ain’t got anything to do with this. Let him and Daisy go.” Slim knew his request would be ignored, but he had to try. He still hadn’t figured out Jess’ part in all this and was hoping Jess would intervene.
“What do you take me for? I let them go, they’ll warn the stage. No, Sherman, they stay.” Mace snapped. “You finished over there yet,” he demanded of Daisy.
When Daisy had first gone to Jess, she had anxiously asked him how he was. His reply had been an untruthful and very formal, “I’m fine, Ma am.”
Then when she had seen Mace’s attention was on Slim, she had whispered quietly to Jess. “What’s going on, Jess? What have you got planned?”
“Huh?” he looked up at her with genuine confusion.
Thinking he had misunderstood her, she continued. “Jess, whatever it is, be careful, you’re hurt. I doubt you can take those two on. Can I help?”
Now he really was confused. Having just drawn on them, why should this kindly woman think he was going to help? Come to that, why was she so concerned for his safety. Nothing added up. More and more Jess was feeling he was on the wrong side in all of this. But still he doubted his inner self. Mace and the laudanum had done their work well. If Jess truly was the outlaw Mace had described, even if he helped these folk, a long jail sentence or worse was the only future he could hope for.
When he heard Mike yell out as Tom grabbed his arm, his head snapped up. “The boy and the woman aren’t a threat. You don’t have to tie them up,” he appealed, “I don’t hold with hurtin’ women or children.”
“All right,” Mace responded, not willing to antagonize Jess yet. “There’s time before the stage is due. Tom, check the boy’s bedroom is secure, nail the shutters closed over the window, we can lock him and the woman in there.”
Tom was about to object but caught the sharp look Mace threw at him and decided he would play along. Already he was getting a perverse satisfaction from seeing the obvious confusion and emotional turmoil Harper was in. Why not play along for now, it would make his revenge all the sweeter when the time came and that time was going to be soon.
It took him mere seconds to check the bedroom and pronounce it secure. He pushed Mike ahead into the room. Mike looked about to argue but Slim intervened. “Go on Mike, we’ll be alright.”
With a last look at his family, Mike obeyed. Reluctantly Daisy left Jess and with her head held high, walked proudly past the outlaws to the room.
She was about to enter when Mace ordered her to stop. “We’ve a time yet to the stage. I think another coffee is in order.” He thrust his empty cup at Daisy.
Torn between a need to comfort Mike, and a desire to look after an obviously sick Jess, Daisy turned to Mace, her eyes flashing defiance. “The pots empty,” she stated.
“Then make a fresh pot,” Mace ordered, thrusting his cup in front of her again. She took it from him and stormed into the kitchen.
“You go with her,” Mace ordered Sam. He trusted the proud woman alone in the kitchen about as much as he trusted Sam alone with Jess. “Make sure she doesn’t try and escape, or you’ll have me to answer to.”
Sam saw the meaningful glance Mace threw in Jess’ direction and knew only too well what it implied. He stood and followed Daisy into the kitchen, and Mace turned his attention back to Slim and Andy. He started to quiz them about the expected payroll stage, hoping to get some of the finer details from them. Everything was coming together. Soon the money would be his, it was so close he could smell it.
In the kitchen, Daisy set about brewing some fresh coffee. She had been observing Sam closely, unable to equate the seemingly gentle young man who helped her with the vicious gang who held them prisoner. Finally, she decided to take a chance. After all the situation couldn’t get any worse, could it?
Sam, why are you here?” she asked.
He looked at her, bewildered by the question. “The payroll,” he stated.
“I don’t mean that, and you know it.” Daisy placed her hand gently on his, keeping her voice low. “I watched you with Jess. You’re not like those other two. You were gentle, concerned. Those two couldn’t care less about him. They’re using him, aren’t they?”
Sam studied her, trying to decide how far he could trust this seemingly loving woman. It didn’t take long to decide. He had watched her deep concern for Jess and then for the others, and he could read the unconditional love in her eyes, and an abiding inner strength. He took the final step to the right side of the law.
“Ma’am, It was me that found Jess and tried to nurse him. I’d a brought him back to you as soon as it was safe, but my brother.” and here he practically spat the word, “he likes to hurt and destroy things. I tried to keep Jess away from them, but they found him. Tom hates him, something about turning them over to the law a few years ago.”
“So you’ve protected Jess from him?” Daisy prompted.
“Yes” then Sam opened up completely, “No, I–I tried. Tom wanted to kill him, torture him, but Mace said he’d be useful so he kept him alive, barely, and used him to get us in here. Mace has promised Tom he can have his fun with Jess after we’ve got the money”
Though she had guessed as much, Daisy was still upset at the thought of what Jess must have suffered through. “Sam, somehow we’ve got to stop this.” The brave woman was horrified at what would be install for them all, but most especially the middle son of her heart, Jess.
Sam nodded his agreement. “Just tell me what you want me to do.”
Then another thought came to Daisy.” I know Jess has a fever and is in pain, but he’s acting strange. It’s almost as if he was someone else.”
“He hit his head when he was in the river, he can’t remember who he is. Only reason he knows his name is I told him. After that he was too ill and he wasn’t understanding much. I didn’t want to shock him and forcing someone’s memory could do just that. It could have killed him.”
Daisy had seen such things as a nurse in the war, men in shock or with head injuries could easily relapse from the shock of such a thing. “Go on,” she encouraged.
I was getting ready to bring him into town, I thought the familiar sights would help. But he relapsed. I think the river water damaged his lungs. It was then Tom and Mace found us. The rest you know.”
The coffee was ready, but Daisy delayed. “No, Jess is a good man, but he’s acting like he’s with your brother. Tell me the rest.”
Sam hated to see the pain in this strong woman’s eyes, but he plunged on at her insistence. “Mace kept telling him he was a wanted man, used some old poster Tom carried with him to proof his point. Jess’ mind was too weak with the fever to resist. Then as he improved, Mace kept him drugged on the laudanum that Tom had brought from the Doctors. He kept forcing it down him, although Jess tried to fight him off.”
Daisy’s hand flew to her mouth, ‘My poor Jess, what he must have suffered through.’
“By the time Mace had finished, he had Jess convinced he was the worse of the lot of us, and he was the leader of this whole thing. He believes he worked here for a month, spying on the place ready for the robbery. I think right now Jess ain’t sure if his memories aren’t just recollections from that month. Mace ain’t no fool, he worked it all out, down to the last detail.”
“That’s why he drew on Slim in there. Why didn’t you try and warn him,” Daisy didn’t mean to sound so accusing, but she felt deeply concerned for what Jess had suffered through, was still suffering through.
“I tried, but the other two kept a close watch. If Jess showed any signs of remembering, they’d a killed him. I was tryin’ to find a way to get him away from ‘em. I think he’s starting to remember more now he’s here and the last dose of laudanum is wearing of.” Sam was committed now; he was going to help these people or die trying. He picked up a kitchen knife. “Look, if you can distract them, I’ll try and cut the others free.” It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was all he had to offer.
Daisy wasn’t so sure. If Jess still thought he was part of the gang, he might actually hurt one of his real family. She could, from her position in the kitchen, make out his slumped form in the chair. A sound across the room caused Jess to look up and she could clearly see the pain and confusion written on his face.
“I think Jess is almost there. If there was just something, something special that would give him the final push, he might be able to help. At least he wouldn’t attack us.”
Sam knew she was right; he had seen the doubt and indecision building in Jess since the shack that morning. He had been surprised when Jess drew on Sherman but then Sam had seen Mace’s gun under the table and had understood the real motive. He was about to say he could think of nothing, and surely Daisy had some special memory she could use as a trigger, when it came to him.
His hand sneaked to his jeans pocket and he pulled the crumpled letter and photo out. “This might help. I was keeping it safe for him, ready for when he was remembering more.”
Daisy took the familiar photograph and letter from him, remembering how they had sent it to Jess when he was away on one of his trips. They had all been missing him, and hoped the photograph would hurry him home. It had certainly worked then, and she knew it meant something special to Jess. A special memory he kept with him at all times, his anchor to home. If anything could bring her Jess back to them, it would be this.
Chapter 24
The excitement was getting to Tom Brading, his palms were sweating and he felt his need to release the tension mounting. Slowly he moved towards Jess. The time for his revenge, dreamt of for so long, was so close now and the taste of it was sweet. His need to inflict pain was overwhelming.
Jess had been sitting, head resting in his hand, his injured arm held closely across his ribs. His mind was wandering through a labyrinth of memories, real and imagined, unable to distinguish between them. He hung onto the gun in his lap, ready to use it if the situation became dangerous once more.
He was unaware of Tom’s close proximity until a heavy hand dropped onto his injured shoulder and squeezed it. Jess was unable to stop the sharp cry of pain that escaped him just as Daisy entered the room carrying the coffee pot.
“Jess!” she called in alarm, and flung the pot onto the table, flying to Jess’ side. “What have you done to him?” She spoke to Tom, the anger evident in her voice, but her eyes were gentle as she lifted Jess’ head and looked into his eyes.
“Is he alright?” Slim demanded. He had tried to jump up at the pain evident in Jess’ voice, but the ropes had pulled him sharply back.
“I don’t know yet. Jess, what’s wrong?” Daisy asked anxiously.
“I–I’m all right. Just surprised me, is all.” The strain in his voice evidenced the fact he was lying, just as the smirk on Tom’s face confirmed his lie also.
“My mistake. I’s just trying to get your attention, Just keep fergettin about that hurt shoulder of yours, boy.”
“Enough of this. Tom get outside and watch for the stage. Jess, you keep your gun on these folks.” Mace ordered, then he noticed Sam moving behind Slim and Andy. “What you doing, Sam?”
“Just checking the ropes are good and tight.”
“I want them untied and ready to greet the stage. Everything has got to seem normal and the driver will expect to see these two out in the yard.”
Sam realized this was going to be his one chance to change the odds in their favor. He rapidly went about untying the ropes that bound Slim and Andy. Slim rubbed his wrists, trying to get some life into them. Amazingly he kept the surprise from his face when he felt Sam push a knife down into his back pants pocket. The boy was trying to help them. He glanced across at Daisy and saw she had placed herself between Jess and the rest of the room. She appeared to be looking at his shoulder, but by the way she was bent in close, Slim knew she was up to something. He tried to keep Mace focused on himself.
“You won’t get away with this, you know. The army will come after you.” Slim spoke calmly although he felt far from calm right now.
“Way I see it, by the time the people at the next stop realize the stage ain’t comin’ and get word to the army post. We’ll have a day’s head start. A clever man can get himself lost in this country. There’s no way the law will find me.”
“You’ll be tracked down. There’ll be nowhere for you to hide,” Slim argued.
“Shut up and get over by the door,” Mace ordered, “and just remember, any sign of trouble and they’ll get it.” He gestured in the direction of Daisy but kept his eyes on Slim.
From the way Mace said they, Slim realized he included Jess as well. Slim was no fool, if these men were to have a chance of escaping, they would have to leave no witnesses. If they were to survive, he would have to act soon and pray he could pull it off. His worst fear was that Jess would draw on him, and he would be forced to try and take down his Pard.
During all this Daisy had been speaking quietly to Jess, trying to reach through his clouded thoughts to the real Jess Harper trapped within.
“Jess, I know you’re hurting right now,” she whispered. “But try and think about this. You don’t belong with these men; you’re not like them.”
Jess lifted his head, a denial already on his lips, but the sincerity and love that was written all over Daisy’s features caused him to stop.
“How would you know what I’m like, where I belong?” he replied keeping his voice low.
“Because I know you, Jess. You belong here with us. You own part of this ranch, Jess, you’re not just a hired hand. Slim, Andy and Mike think of you as a brother.” She kept her eyes locked with Jess’ and saw the emotions at war with each other in their depths. She pressed her advantage home. “Jess look at me, surely you must feel something. You’re like a son to me. Why would I lie?”
His thoughts spinning, heart racing Jess’ eyes flickered around the room, so familiar and yet so strange. “I–I don’t know,” he hesitated. “Look, I don’t want you h–hurt. You’d best g–get over with the others.”
“Please, Jess, please, don’t do this.” Daisy pulled the note and crumpled picture from her apron pocket and thrust it into Jess’ hand. “At least look at this,” she pleaded before moving towards the now untied Slim and Andy. It had hurt her to do it, knowing that the sudden shock might drive Jess’ reeling senses over the edge, but this was a desperate situation and it was worsening by the second. If Jess didn’t recognize the true reality now, they were all destined to die anyway.
“You, lady, get yourself over here now.” Mace ordered, “And quit that whispering, yer upsetting my partner.” Mace frowned at Jess, unnerved by the frown that the distressed man threw in his direction as he had ordered Daisy away from him.
Daisy was left with no choice but to move towards the bedroom where Mike had been locked away. Over by the door Tom’s attention was taken by the stage as it appeared at the top of the hill on the road to the ranch. It appeared to have stopped there, almost as if the driver and guard were checking out the relay station before proceeding.
Jess had turned the crumpled photograph over in his hands, studying the smiling faces there and the simple message of caring and love that had been written on it. The sudden fiery pain that exploded in his head left him gasping as the memories came flooding back, assaulting his senses and sending his emotions reeling. He buried his head in his hand as his eyes filled with moisture and the tears started to fall. Now he knew who he was, who these people were and what they meant to him. They were his family, as dear to him as life itself, and he had betrayed them.
Slim took all this in and knew that he had to act now, whilst Mace was distracted by Daisy and Jess. He pulled the knife from his pants pocket and lunged at Mace, aiming to disable his gun hand. His sudden move took everyone by surprise, including Tom.
As the two men struggled for control of the gun, Tom kept his gun trained on the rest of the group. He couldn’t fire for fear of warning the approaching stage, but the mere threat of the gun aimed at Daisy kept Sam and Andy immobile. Tom watched the fight, enjoying the struggle, but when it seemed that the rancher was gaining the upper hand, he spoke up.
“Hold it right there, Sherman. Just move back real slow unless you want your brother here to find himself chewing on a bullet.” Tom pulled the hammer back on his gun and grinned.
Seeing the killer lust on the evil man’s features, Slim stood up and moved back. Mace stood and retrieved his gun. He was seething. How had Sherman got hold of a knife? No matter, he’d have his revenge later, after the money was his.
“That was real foolish.” Mace picked up the knife and suddenly he was face to face with Slim, the knife pressed against Slims throat. “I ought to finish you off now, one move and it’s all over, no noise at all. I’m sure your brother could manage the stage long enough to let us get the driver and guard.”
Slim stood unmoving, arms at his side, the only sign of his concern being his hands clenching and unclenching.
The click of a gun being cocked caused everyone to turn in Jess’ direction. Though he could feel his whole body shaking, Jess’ left hand was rock steady as he held his gun, the muzzle pointing unerringly at Maces heart.
“Move away from him, real slow.” Jess’ voice was weak, but there was no mistaking the iron will that drove the man. He had betrayed his family and his weakness might cost his ‘brother’ his life. Jess was not going to let that happen.
Mace saw his own death written in Jess’ cold eyes, and dropping the knife, he backed away from Slim. His eyes never once left Jess’ face. It was then he remembered the gun Jess held was empty but still he hesitated. It was obvious that in his fever and confusion, Jess had also forgotten that his gun was unloaded, or, and it was this thought that caused Mace to back up, the ailing man had gotten hold of some bullets.
“Now, Jess, boy. You don’t want to be doing that,” Mace cajoled. “I got this under control. Yer need to be restin, you ain’t thinking too clearly right now.”
“I reckon I’m thinkin’ clearer now than I have for a long time. Your done messing with my mind now, Mace. I know the truth.” The firm conviction in Jess’ voice belied the weakness he was feeling. His whole world had been turned about in one brief minute when he had read the message on the photograph Daisy had pressed into his hand. His body was screaming at him to just shut down and rest, but he wouldn’t allow it. He owed it to his ‘family’ to keep them safe and stop these men no matter what it cost him. He’d pay the price later. Right now, he had a job to do.
Tom held no such reservations. His gun was pulled and pointed at Jess without any hesitation. He had come so close to his long-desired revenge that he wasn’t about to let it be snatched away.
“Well now, Harper, ya finally got it figured out.” Tom leered at the man he had spent the last few years of his life hating. He saw the blue eyes flicker towards Slim and Andy and in that instant he knew just how he could hurt Jess the most. He swung his gun towards Slim and smirked at Jess, enjoying the fear he saw flash briefly in Jess’ eyes. “Go on then, pull the trigger. It won’t stop me plugging your partner here.”
Mace wasn’t too happy at the fact that Tom seemed unconcerned by the gun Jess had aimed at his heart but decided that there was no way Jess could have gotten hold of any bullets so he planned to push the point home.
“All right, Jess, let’s give you a chance. I feel like being generous. What say you and me draw on each other? No tricks. I’ve a rep with a gun and I’ve heard tell yer’er supposed to be fast.” Mace briefly turned his attention on Tom. “Right, Tom, no matter who wins this, yer not to shoot Sherman, understood?” Mace turned to Jess. “Well, it’s the best offer yer’ going to get. A chance to come up against me in a fair fight.”
“No, Jess, you’re too sick. You don’t stand a chance and he knows it,” Andy finally found his voice, and spoke up, ignoring Slim shaking his head in warning. Slim could see that Sam was slowly edging around the room towards Mace, intent on taking him down, and Slim fully intended to charge Tom the moment he was distracted.
As Mace placed the gun in his holster, Jess realized he had no choice. He knew he had little chance to outdraw Mace with his left hand, and his right arm was useless. He recalled having to use his left hand to shoot in the past and reasoned that if he tried to dive as he fired, he might stand a remote chance of taking Mace down. Deciding a remote chance was better than none, and willing to gamble his own life to ensure Slim survived, he slid his gun back into his holster, reversing it to put its butt forward.
Across the room Daisy could feel her heart racing. Jess was far too weak to try and fast draw against this evil man. She glanced quickly around the room looking for anything that would help. Her gaze fell upon the coffee pot she had placed on the table, and, unnoticed by the other occupants, her hand reached out and grasped the handle.
The two opponents faced each other across the room. Jess could feel the sweat running down his forehead and forced himself to keep his eyes focused on Mace. He kept his gaze locked on Mace’s eyes. Jess knew that Mace’s eyes would signal the intent to draw before his hand even began to move.
Tom saw Daisy and Sam as they tried to move into more advantageous positions. “Both of you hold it right there. It would be a shame if’n I had to plug one of ya before we get to see this little show.”
Everyone except the two combatants froze, Jess and Mace where oblivious to the rest of the people in the room. Time seemed to stand still, and Jess could hear his own heart beat as it raced faster. He willed himself to stay calm, waiting to see that telltale narrowing of Mace’s eyes and the sideways flicker to glance at the gun. Then it happened so fast that, despite his disadvantage, Jess’ gun appeared to jump into Jess’ hand as he ducked to the right preparing to dodge Mace’s bullet. His ribs protested the sudden movement, sending tendrils of fire across his chest.
When no retort was heard Jess barely stopped himself returning fire. He couldn’t bring himself to shoot down a man who was making no attempt to draw properly, no matter how tempting it was in Mace’s case. Straightening up he stared disbelievingly at Mace, and an icy chill ran down Jess’ spine. Mace’s revolver hadn’t even cleared the holster fully and the outlaw was staring impassively at him, his mouth quirked up into a deathlike grin.
“Put your gun up, Mace, and tell your sidekick to drop his, or I’ll pull the trigger” Jess snapped.
The smile remained fixed on Mace’s face as he slowly continued to draw his gun, ignoring Jess’ warning to stop. Seeing Mace continue through, Jess was left with no choice but to pull the trigger. The sharp click as the hammer hit an empty chamber seemed to fill the room. Jess’ face registered shock and he pulled the trigger again. ‘Kinda light ain’t it?’ His own words echoed through his head, as Jess did the only thing he could. He flung the useless weapon at Mace and leapt forward.
Everything seemed to happen at once. Jess saw Slim lunge at Tom, and at the same time he saw Mace draw a bead on Slim as he moved. Jess’ wild leap forward placed his body between Mace and Slim. At the same instant Sam threw himself at Mace causing him to lose his balance. Mace’s aim was thrown slightly off and the bullet that would have been on a straight path for Jess’ heart took him in his side, tearing a deep channel over his hip. The impact spun him round and Jess fell heavily onto his injured arm. As the pain seared through him he fought against the darkness, knowing it was imperative he stay conscious.
As Jess and Slim had moved to tackle the outlaws, Daisy had acted with equal speed. The heavy pot full of hot coffee was flung across the room, hitting Tom on the side of his head and shoulder and sending the scalding liquid down his chest and arm. Andy was on him in a second, taking advantage of the opportunity Daisy had given them. He knocked the gun from Tom’s hand and used his momentum to send Tom flying backwards to the floor. Slim saw the gun and dived for it.
Across the room Daisy moved toward the bedroom door. She could hear Mike calling from the other side, obviously aware that something was going on. While no one was watching she unlocked the door and slid inside. She needed to calm the boy and then help him out the back window, hoping to send him to safety and for help.
A second shot rang out as Slim was forced to shoot Tom to save Andy. As his fingers had curled around the gun he had turned in time to see Tom pin Andy down, one arm pushed across his throat, denying the young man air. Tom’s other hand had found the discarded knife and it was now raised above Andy’s chest, about to plunge on its deadly path downwards. Without hesitation Slim pulled the trigger. Tom died instantly, the bullet taking him between the eyes.
Sam was hitting out at Mace with all his strength. Jess had forced himself across the small distance that separated him from the struggling men, his entire will focused on getting the gun Mace was trying to bring to bear on Sam. The younger, weaker man had hold of Mace’s wrist but was slowly losing the battle to stop Mace swinging the gun barrel towards his chest. Every inch Jess gained seemed to take an eternity, and each small movement raked him with pain, but he had to save Sam or die trying. He was almost there. He reached out with a trembling hand, seeking to add his own failing strength to that of Sam’s.
Mace sneered and taking Sam by surprise, suddenly reversed the direction of the gun, bringing it around to point directly at Jess. The barely conscious man found himself looking directly into the cold eyes of the killer and saw his own death written there.
“I’ll see you in Hell, Harper,” Mace sneered, as he pulled back the hammer. Jess closed his eyes for only a second, blinking to clear his blurred vision, and waiting for the explosion that would send him to his maker. It never came.
Mace felt the cold steel of the gun muzzle, as it pressed hard into the back of his neck.
“Drop the gun, or you’ll be dead before you can pull the trigger,” Slim hissed.
The only sound within the room was the hiss of defeat that Mace gave as he reconsidered his options and decided that surrender would allow him the chance to fight another day. Slowly he lowered his gun to the floor and withdrew his hand. Sam immediately picked it up and handed it to Slim, who shook his head, indicating that Sam should keep it.
Andy moved to Jess’ side, and was immediately joined by Sam. Although Slim was desperate to know that Jess was all right, he had to deal with the more urgent need of securing Mace and letting the payroll stage know it was safe to approach.
He pushed Mace roughly down onto his stomach and made swift work of tying his hands and feet together behind his back. Satisfied the outlaw was not going to get loose he holstered his gun and turned Toms still body over. The neat hole in the middle of the body’s forehead told Slim there was no longer any threat from that quarter. Only now did he move to Jess’ side, gently pushing Andy away so he could get a closer look at his best friend.
“How is he?” he asked, his voice cracked with worry.
“He’s alive,” Sam quickly allayed any fears Slim might have in that direction. “But I think he may have put his shoulder out of alignment and opened his side up again.”
Slim was anxiously searching for the bullet wound he knew must be there. He knew Jess had taken the bullet meant for him. He started to lift the blood-soaked shirt when a soft grunt drew his attention. He lifted his eyes to find himself staring into two pain clouded blue pools.
“Sss–Slim, we g–get em?” Jess asked, concerned to find them crowded around him and unable to pull his thoughts together into a clear picture of what had just transpired.
Relieved to hear the sound of his Partners voice, Slim couldn’t hide the smile that crept across his handsome features. “We sure did, Pard. Now lets see if we can put you back together again.” As Slim continued to undo Jess’ shirt, he issued instructions to Andy and Sam. “Andy, get Daisy in here, and then get out to the road, see if you can see the stage and let them know what’s happened. They’ll need to send a guard back to Laramie to get the Sheriff out here.” He looked down at Jess’ pale features, “and the Doc,” he added with emphasis. Andy hurried to obey.
Within seconds Daisy was at Jess’ side. Slim stood up to allow her in close. He saw Sam was staring at his brother’s body, his face taut with emotion. Stepping over to him, Slim placed a reassuring hand on Sam’s slumped shoulder. “I’m sorry, Sam. I had no choice.” Although Slim recognized that Tom had been too far gone into a killing rage to heed any warning he gave, he still felt guilty at having killed Sam’s brother. He may well have been a cold-blooded killer but he was still the brother of the man that had saved Jess’ life.
“I know, Slim. Just like I’ve known for a long time that it couldn’t end any other way.” Sam turned moist eyes on Slim. “He was my brother, and for that I feel sad, but he as no good. He killed for pleasure and enjoyed hurting people, just like he’d have hurt Jess and all of you if’n you hadn’t stopped him. I don’t blame you, Slim. It was bound to happen one day.”
Accepting Sam’s forgiveness, Slim turned as he heard the door open. Andy returned with one of the stage guards in tow. After Slim quickly explained the situation he left to ride to Laramie for help, promising to return with the Doctor and Sheriff. Andy offered to help Sam move his brother’s body out to the barn and left Slim to calm down a very frightened Mike. The young boy was watching as Daisy worked on Jess, and it was clear from his face that he thought he was going to lose his big brother all over again.
“He is all right isn’t he, Aunt Daisy?” Mike’s voice was soft with worry. Slim hugged him, offering the security of his arms to calm him.
“Hush, now, Mike. He’ll be fine. Just let Daisy do her job.” As he spoke he was trying to re-assure himself just as much as the young boy he supported.
Daisy quickly found the new injury and released the breath she had been holding. “The bullets gouged your hip, Jess, but it hasn’t done anything too serious. It’ll be painful, but it should heal clean.” Jess had been staring at her as she checked him out. It was almost as if he feared she would disappear if he just looked away once. Gently she brushed the sweat-dampened hair from his forehead. “You’ve come home to us, Jess, and I’m not going to let you go again.” She tore a strip from her petticoat and used it to wrap the gash, effectively stemming the blood flow. The tears of relief fell freely down her cheeks as she took in every contour of his face, recalling how only hours ago she had accepted that she would never look at those familiar features again.
Through blurred eyes, Jess saw her distress and felt his throat constrict at the thought that he was the cause of her crying. He lifted his one good hand and touched her cheek, wiping at the tears there. Daisy reached up and placed her hand over his, turning her face to kiss his palm gently. She didn’t know when this seemingly independent young drifter had become so important to her, but she knew that when she had thought he was lost to her, she had felt unbearable pain, as sharp as when she had lost her own son.
Breaking eye contact with Jess, she turned to look up at Slim. “We need to get him off this cold floor,” she stated simply.
“Mike, go get Jess’ bed turned down. We’ll be right in.” Slim stooped down next to Jess and scooped him up into his arms as if he weighed next to nothing. He recalled, what seemed like an eternity ago, when he had first carried Jess to his room, that it had been the lightness of his best friend’s body that had really alarmed him. The severity of Jess’ recent illness was evident in the amount of weight he had lost. Never having carried an ounce of spare flesh, Jess’ body felt like a skeleton covered in skin.
Daisy rushed ahead, opening the bedroom door, and Slim followed, protectively cradling Jess against his chest like a baby. Gently he lay Jess on the bed and pulled the covers up around his partners shoulders. He stood back, looking down at Jess. While he had carried him through, Slim had felt Jess’ body go limp again as he once more slipped into unconsciousness. It seemed as though, now that his’ family’ was safe, Jess’ body had finally given in and allowed the darkness to claim him.
“Is he all right?” Slim turned concerned eyes on Daisy.
Her hand hovered over Jess’ chest. Although it barely rose and fell, she could feel his heart beat, slow and steady. “He’ll be fine, Slim. He just needs to rest. We need to keep him warm and comfortable to prevent shock from blood loss until the Doctor arrives to stitch him up.” She pulled the blankets off the other bed and wrapped them tightly around Jess’ unresisting body. “Come on, I’ll make us some coffee while we wait. I think we all could do with some rest.”
While waiting for the Doctor to arrive Daisy kept herself calming Mike and keeping up a continual supply of coffee for all of them. Slim refused to leave Jess’ side and sat staring at his best friends sleeping form. It was only when the Doctor arrived with the Sheriff an hour later that Daisy did manage to get him to move away, if only to allow the Doctor to work.
While Daisy worked with the Doctor and got on with the job of putting Jess back together, Sheriff Cory tried to piece together what had happened from Sam, Andy and Slim. It wasn’t easy for Slim was pacing around the room and all three kept glancing at the bedroom door and jumping up at every moan or cry that escaped from Jess as the Doctor worked. Eventually though the story was pieced together and Slim realized how bad it had been for Jess and just how much they owed to Sam for his safe return.
Slim found himself wishing he had not killed Tom outright. Though he fought hard against it, he found himself burning with anger at what had been done and what was intended to be done to his best friend. If he could shoot Tom Brading all over again, he would do it, taking great pleasure in the act. The instinct for revenge was something very alien to Slim, but he was so torn up by the story Sam told, he was filled with an all-consuming need for it. As the pieces fell into place, Slim realized that Tom had known Jess was alive when they had met at the Doctors, his fingers curled inwards, his mind imagining they were curled around Tom’s throat.
Realizing what Slim as thinking, Sam placed a gently hand on his shoulder. “He’s safe now, Slim. I’m only sorry I couldn’t do more.”
“You did everything possible, Sam. He wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.” The next words slipped out before he could stop them, “Animals like your brother deserve to die.” Slim saw the distress in Sam’s eyes as the words hit him. “I–I’m sorry Sam, it’s just–”
“No. You’re right. I know he was my brother, and for that I am sad. But he was bad right through and he treated me bad. Do ya know he hated Jess because he thought Jess had turned ‘em in to the Sheriff after he’d turned Tom down to join us on a job. Funny thing was, Jess had rode away, and yes he did go to the sheriff, but the law already knew.” Sam hung his head. “It was me that had given the law the details. I couldn’t let them place innocent women and children in danger, and what they had planned sure would have.”
Sympathy was written all over Slims face. “I can only guess at how hard it must have been to turn your own kin in,” he stated.
“Weren’t hard at all. My brothers had been mistreating’ me most of my life. Thought I was too soft cause I took after my mother. It’s funny really, cause Tom was haunted by the need for revenge on the man he thought had betrayed him, when all the time it was me. I guess I owed Jess, since he was innocent. That was one of the reasons I couldn’t let Tom and Mace kill him.”
“What were the others?” Andy asked.
“I don’t hold with leavin’ any creature in pain, and then when I got to know Jess, I found myself wonderin’ why I hadn’t been blessed with a man like him for a brother. He’s a good man, too good a man to die by Tom or Mace’s hand.”
“Yeah. He does kinda grow on you,” Slim laughed. “ If Jess was listening to you right now, I reckon he’d be sayin’ he’d be proud to have you as his brother to.”
Embarrassed, Sam colored, but was saved from having to speak further by the Doctor emerging from the bedroom. Everyone’s attention immediately focused on him. “How is he?” All the occupants of the room asked at once.
“Considering what he’s been through, I’d say he’s lucky to be alive. But he’s strong and a fighter, if he gets plenty of rest and we can break that fever he’s got, he’ll make it. Right now he’s confused, his memory has come back all right but when it happens like that, it can leave the amnesiac in shock and disorientated.”
“What can we do to help?” All the other occupants of the room again voiced at once.
The Doctor looked around at the caring, eager faces and felt his heart warm at the love he saw there. “Just keep on feeling as you are right now and let him know it. That will be the best medicine of all.” He smiled at them all, then continued, “That and make sure he gets plenty of rest and takes this medicine for the pain and fever.”
The Doctor thrust a small bottle at Slim but it was Daisy who took it. “I’ll make sure he takes it all. He can be real stubborn over things like that, but I can usually persuade him to behave.”
“Good. Then I’d better get back to town. Mrs Baxters second baby is due any day now. I’ll ride back out tomorrow to check on him, but if there are any problems you know where I am.”
Slim shook the Doctors hand firmly as he opened the door for him. “Thanks Doc, and don’t you worry, Jess’ will rest even if I have to tie him to the bed to ensure he stays there.
As Slim watched the Doctor depart, Mort Corey came and stood beside him. “ I’d better be going to Slim. Mind if I borrow a horse to get my prisoner back to town?”
“Sure, Mort. The sooner he’s gone from here, the sooner we can relax.”
“I’d better get my own mount ready,” Sam volunteered.
“You’d better not be thinking on riding out of here.” Mort spoke sternly.
“I—I thought you’d want me to ride back to jail with you, after all I’ve been party to this–.”
Mort gave Sam a friendly pat on his shoulder. “The way I see it, son, you were just trying to keep you and Jess alive. Course, the final decision will be up to the circuit Judge when he comes to town in a few weeks’ time. I’ll need you to stay around as a witness. Slim, my jail isn’t the best of places to stay, you got any ideas where Sam can stay?” A smile played across Mort’s face. Seeing that Slim was slow to catch on he prompted further. “It’ll need to be somewhere near enough for me to get a hold of him when I got more questions to clear up, and with someone I can count on to keep an eye on the boy.”
Daisy spoke up first. “With Jess laid up and Andy going back East soon, you’re going to have to hire someone to help around here for a while.”
Suddenly Slim caught on, “Say Mort, why doesn’t Sam stay here? You know I’ll keep him in hand and, well, I reckon Jess will settle and heal a lot faster if he knows Sam’s around and safe.”
“I guess that settles it, providing Sam here’s got no objections.” Mort turned to Sam who had been standing quietly by, listening to the conversation that was deciding his future.
Sam’s face lit up. “I’d like that, a lot. That is, if you don’t mind any.”
Daisy came forward now. “It’s the least we can do, Sam. You brought Jess back to us and we can never do enough to thank you. Come on now, I’ll show you where you can sleep”
“Please, Ma’am, if you don’t mind, I’d like to sleep near Jess. Just in case he needs anything.”
Daisy looked at Slim, who nodded his agreement. “Slim sleeps in Jess’ room, but we can soon get another bunk set up in there. With two of you in there, it will make it a lot easier to nurse Jess.”
“Thank you Ma’am. I guess I’ve been lookin’ after him for so long, I’d kinda like to see the job through.” Sam followed Daisy through to where Jess was now sleeping peacefully.
Not long after the Sheriff had gone, the resourceful Daisy had all the sleeping arrangements sorted and supper on the go. The Sherman household settled into a semblance of normality, or at least as normal as it could be with each member finding any excuse and taking every opportunity to check on the oblivious Jess.
The constant need to keep reassuring themselves that Jess was indeed back among the living was going to persist for several weeks to come, much to the seeming annoyance of the recovering man. But if Jess could be persuaded to admit it, he appreciated every familiar smile and voice that helped him push the nightmare of the past weeks into the deep recesses of his memory.
Chapter 25
Two eventful weeks had passed since that tempestuous day that had brought Jess back into the heart of the family. While Daisy carefully followed the Doctors instructions to care for Jess, Slim, Andy, Mike and Sam pulled together to ensure the Ranch and Relay station ran smoothly.
The first week had seen Jess sleeping most of the time. At least he did once Slim convinced him that Sam was all right. Jess had fretted that the Sheriff had arrested his good Samaritan and despite his extreme weakness he had fought like a man possessed to get out of bed and ride to town
The man in question had been working out in the barn and Slim had sent Mike out to fetch him in, while holding a struggling Jess to the mattress by pinning his arms and legs to the bed with his own body. Only when Sam’s worried voice had reached him had he quieted down.
“Jess, are you bound and determined to undo all our good work?” Sam had demanded.
Eyes downcast in shame, Jess had apologized for his behavior. Slim had looked at the pain-lined face of his Pard and easily read the fear and uncertainty that still lingered there after his recent identity crisis. He had given Jess’ good shoulder a firm squeeze.
“It’s all right, Jess. I know this isn’t easy, but your home now and you can trust everyone here. If you think on it, you know I’ve never lied to you and I’m not about to start now.”
Jess had lifted his head as Slim spoke and felt the warmth spread through him as he accepted the truth of those words. He sank back onto the pillows, his adrenaline driven strength leaving him. With his good hand he took hold of Slim’s arm and squeezed back.
“Thanks, Pard. I know you’ll always come through for me, I remember that now.” Then his heavy eyes closed and he’d finally slipped into a truly restful sleep.
The second week had seen a more alert Jess recalling more and more of his real self and behaving like the young man Slim had grown to love like a brother. There had been a brief, emotionally difficult time when the family had gathered one evening around Jess’ bed to talk through all that had happened. Daisy had suggested that perhaps if they all talked their feelings through to each other it would help them all to put the unpleasant memories behind them.
Despite the deep emotions that had threatened to tear them apart as the horrific details of Jess’ injuries and illness had been revealed, in the end the experience seemed to draw the unique family even closer. The frank discussions had appeared to work well for all concerned, including the normally private Jess. But when they came to talk about how they had come to believe Jess was dead, and Slim had gone on to describe the funeral service, Jess had grown increasingly quiet and withdrawn. Daisy was the first to notice, and then Slim caught on. Tactfully he suggested to Andy, Mike and Sam that maybe it was time they attended to their chores and let Jess rest awhile. After all they could talk some more with Jess later after supper.
Once they had left the ranch house, Slim had returned to the bedroom with Daisy close behind him.
“Jess, whatever is the matter. Are you feeling poorly again?” Daisy was the first to speak.
Lying with his back toward the door, Jess remained silent, hoping they would think he was asleep and leave again. In truth Jess didn’t know himself what was wrong. His emotions had been see-sawing back and forth for the past week and now this last conversation had sent him into total emotional overload. He knew that if he had to speak at all, then all the pain, fear, awe, humility and love he was feeling would just come spilling out and sweep him away.
Slim understood just how independent Jess could be. He also knew that his ‘brother’ liked to give the impression of a loner, who, if need be, could happily exist on his own. But that was all it was, an impression, an outer façade that he used to protect himself from an often-cruel world. When Slim had first met Jess, he had been taken in by that same façade, but had soon come to see the shy, vulnerable young man that hid beneath the harsh appearance of a gunslinger. Over time, Jess had gradually opened up to his new family, and in particular to his Pard. Slim now used that hard won insight to help get Jess to open up to him again.
“Daisy, would you mind making us a pot of coffee, you know, the bitter strong brew that Jess favors. I think we’re going to need it.”
At first Daisy looked as if she would refuse to go, but she read the concern in Slim’s eyes and nodded, before she left the bedroom. If anyone could get Jess to say what was bothering him then it would be Slim, and if not, then she would just have to go in, all guns blazing, and make Jess tell them. She was not without her own means of persuasion.
Slim sat down on the edge of the bunk Jess occupied, careful not to knock Jess’ still healing body. With a mind of its own his right hand started to move in slow comforting circles on Jess’ back. He could feel the tension knots in the muscles as Jess held himself rigid, his whole body quivering with suppressed emotions.
“Come on, Jess. Were alone now. You may as well tell me what’s wrong. Sooner or later, you will anyway. So why not just get it over with.” Slim prompted, all the while keeping up the slow soothing back rub.
“It ain’t that simple, Slim,” was the mumbled response.
“It can be if you’d let it. Something’s troubling you, Jess, and it’s eating you up.”
Suddenly Jess twisted round to face Slim, drawing his breath in sharply at the sudden stab of pain in his side and shoulder that the movement caused. “How can I tell you what I’m feelin’ when I can’t even figure it out for myself.”
“Why not just try saying anything that comes to mind. We can try making sense of it all later,” Slim offered gently.
For a brief moment it looked like Jess would clam up again, but he saw the strong support written clearly in Slims eyes and, taking a deep breath, he took the first tentative step on his road to emotional healing.
“W–What you all were saying, about the funeral and all? A saddle bum like me, I–I don’t deserve all of those decent folk turning out like that. I–It ain’t right—.”
Unable to believe what he was hearing, Slim interrupted. “Jess, I’ll admit when you first came here, folks were a bit wary of you, but you proved yourself true time and again. You won the respect of everyone in town. When we lost you, we had to turn back people from the search party, that many folk wanted to help. When my time comes, I’d be mighty proud if even only half the folk turned out for my funeral as turned up for yours.”
“No-No, you’re not hearin’ me right. I’m just a drifter, Slim, a down and out that struck it lucky when I met you. I’d likely be dead by now if’n it wasn’t for teaming up with you. Those good folk, they–they don’t really know me, I–I ain’t deserving of their respect.” Jess’ throat was closing with the strong emotions that where washing through him and he turned his face away from Slim to hide the tears that were threatening to spill.
“Enough! I won’t let you do this to yourself, Jess. You were never a saddle bum, a no-account drifter.” Slim placed his hand on Jess cheek and turned his face towards him. His heart clenched at the pain he saw reflected in Jess’ eyes.
“I sold my gun to the highest bidder” came the pain filled response, as the tears now started to spill over.
“From what you’ve told me about your past, Jess, you had it hard since you were very young. You did what you had to in order to survive, and from what I know of you, you stayed honest.” Slim was desperate to ease his Pard’s pain. “Jess you always stayed true to your ideals. I know you strayed close to the line at times, but you never crossed over. I know you killed men, but only when you had no other choice, and they always deserved it.”
“You ain’t listening to me, Slim. I ain’t w–worth any of it. What you t—told me they said at my funeral, what y–you told me about how you all f–felt, the Jess H–Harper you all thought I was, he–he doesn’t exist, not r–really. Not when I c–can forget it all so easily and t–turn on you all.” Jess’ voice was broken and he was sobbing openly. The anguish and guilt of the past weeks pouring out of him now the emotional damn was broken
Slim was becoming lost in the conversation, his overwrought emotions making it difficult to follow the distraught man’s wandering thoughts. He knew Jess often took the blame and guilt onto his shoulders, even when there was no way he was to blame. He reasoned it stemmed from when Jess had lost his family to a fire when he was young, and had failed for many years to fulfill his self-appointed quest for justice for his murdered family. Suddenly it all fell into place in Slim’s mind. Jess, his mind injured and dulled by pain and drugs, had been tricked into almost betraying his new family. He was assuming the blame for this too and the guilt was tearing his soul apart. Before Slim could find the words to re-assure Jess that he was in no way to blame for what had happened, Jess continued brokenly.
“I–I could have killed you, Slim, you and the others. One h–hit on the head and I’m r–ready to wipe out all we’d b–built here. I w–was ready to m–murder my f—family until D–Daisy gave me that photograph.” All the pain, hurt and fear came tumbling out. “Mace had me c–convinced I–I was the worst of them all. What–what darkness is inside me, Slim, that I could b–be so easily convinced? I was a gun for hire once, I–I feel like I can’t trust myself around d–decent folk. How l–long before something else h–happens and I turn on you all a–again.? M—maybe I’d be better of leavin’ as s–soon as I can ride.”
Those last bitter words freed Slims voice. He grasped Jess’ good shoulder and forced the pain filled eyes of his Pard to meet his. “Listen to me, Jess. I’ve never lied to you, so you know what I’m saying is the truth. No one is blaming you for any of this. You were the victim in all this. Sam told me you were already suspicious about Mace and Tom, and you played along because he told you to, until the two of you could get away. I know it’s still all very hazy Jess but try and remember. You saved my life even before Daisy gave you that picture.” Slim could see he had Jess’ attention now. “The real you felt it was wrong deep down, and you protected us all. Everything about you is good, decent and honest and Mace couldn’t make you go against your nature in the end. You earned all the respect and love that those people at the funeral expressed, and I couldn’t think of any better man I’d rather have at my side than you.”
Slim’s strong arms wrapped around his shoulders and Jess was drawn into his ‘brothers’ supporting embrace. The last of the dam broke and Jess cried until there were no more tears to come, but those last tears washed away the guilt and emotional pain that had been crippling him for days. Safe now, in the heart of his caring family he could begin to heal fully.
Neither man was aware of the passage of time, but as Jess’ ragged breathing settled into a deeper more regular rhythm, Slim became aware of the dull ache in the bottom of his back. He had been sitting unsupported on the edge of the bunk when he had moved to hold Jess. Now that the raw emotions were settling, his body began to protest the awkwardness of the position. Automatically he moved to adjust his position and Jess pulled away, becoming aware of his position and a little embarrassed by it.
“S–Sorry, Slim,” he mumbled.
“You haven’t done anything to be sorry for.” Slim reassured easily, a gentle smile of relief on his face.
“Thanks, Slim, for everything. Somehow you always know the right things to say to get me back in line.” Jess’ smile of gratitude lit up the room. “I’ve lost count of the number of times you’ve pulled me out of the fire.”
“You’re welcome. And as I recall, what you said cuts both ways, Jess. You’ve saved my life and held this family together more times than I care to remember. When we lost you, we fell apart. We’ve all got a lot of healing to do, and we are going to do it together, as a family.”
Slim stood and gave Jess shoulder a re-assuring squeeze. “You look all run out Jess. I’d better let you get some rest or Daisy will have my hide.”
Jess relaxed back against the pillows, knowing his face was burning red again but with embarrassment rather than a renewed fever. As Slim made to leave the room, he managed to fight back the urge to sleep long enough to voice his last worry.
“I–I’d be beholding if’n you didn’t mention about, well, that is about me l–letting myself—. I mean they all t–think I don’t’ need any–anyone–that I’m a loner. I –I wouldn’t wan—. Heck, Slim,” he cheeks were really burning red now. “They–they don’t need to know about what just h–happened.” Jess finally managed to stammer out.
Surprisingly, Slim didn’t take the opportunity to tease his Pard. He had every sympathy for how Jess was feeling, recalling how he had broken down to Daisy not so long ago. He smiled reassuringly at Jess. “They all know you’ve been worried about things, but that’s only natural. I’ll only tell them what they need to know, that we’ve talked it out and it’s all sorted now. That will be enough for them, until you feel you want to say more.”
Finally feeling at ease, Jess nodded, “Thanks Pard.” Then his eyes slid shut and a truly restful sleep claimed him.
Outside the door, an anxious Daisy was waiting to question Slim. She had been about to re-enter the bedroom with the coffee when she had heard the soft sound of crying and had returned to sit at the table to wait for Slim to come out. She had had to fight every motherly instinct she had to stop herself going to Jess in his pain.
She stood up and was about to speak when Slim shook his head quietly and raised his finger to his lips to indicate she should stay silent. After Slim shut the bedroom door he took Daisy by the elbow and led her through to the back of the house so the sound of their talking would not disturb Jess.
Totally out of character, but driven by her concern for Jess, Daisy demanded an answer. “Slim, I heard him crying. Is he all right?”
Slim grasped her shoulders and fixed her eyes with his. “It’s over, Daisy. I mean really over. We talked. It wasn’t easy for him.” Slim gave a little laugh. “ Heck, when has Jess ever been easy on himself? But it’s finished and he can move forward again. We all can.”
Daisy wanted to ask more but she could see that this was all she was going to get for now. Slim confirmed this with his next words. “He is kinda embarrassed over it, so don’t push him about it. I’m sure given time he will tell you all, but for now, maybe, I think we all should stop pushing him and follow his lead.”
“All right, Slim. I’ll explain it to the others, I’m sure they will understand.” Daisy moved back into the living room. “Now, how about some of that coffee you insisted I make?”
Joining her at the table, Slim held out his cup. “Good idea, Daisy, but I’d sure appreciate a piece of that apple pie to accompany it.”
“How did you know I was making a pie for supper?” Daisy laughed.
“Well, apart from the tantalizing smell coming from the kitchen, you always make an apple pie when you think one of us need cheering up and spoiling a little!”
“You are beginning to know me to well. Just don’t you go telling the others any of that,” Daisy threw over her shoulder as she went to cut her oldest son a piece of the delicacy.
Chapter 26
Jess couldn’t remember a time when he had felt so excited and so anxious at the same time. He had been feeling much better since that emotional night with Slim, and everyone had commented, in one way or another on how he seemed so much more like his old self these past few days. He had to admit that each day he felt a little stronger, ate more and slept less. He was, much to Daisy and Slims delight and annoyance, up to his old tricks of trying to sneak out of bed and avoid his medicine. As Slim had remarked to anyone that would listen, it was a sure sign Jess was on the mend.
It had been a busy morning. The Doctor had arrived to check on Jess and Sheriff Corey and Sam accompanied him. Two days previously Sam had left with Mort to see the judge and give his testimony about the attempted robbery. Jess’ statement had been dictated to Mort, as the Doctor had advised that Jess should not be subjected to the bumpy journey into town.
At first Jess had fretted about not being there to support Sam, but Slim had promised to accompany them and Mort had assured the worried young rancher that he would ensure Sam got a fair hearing. Jess had finally settled to the idea, and when Slim had returned the same day to say Sam was cleared of all charges and was staying in town one more day to give his testimony against Mace and sign some legal papers, Jess had accepted it as gospel truth.
Sam had barely had time to say hello to Jess when he was ushered out of the sick room while the Doctor examined Jess.
“I’ll speak to you later, Jess. I’ve got a lot to tell you.” Happiness radiated from Sam’s smile, reassuring Jess that things had indeed gone well in town.
Eager to know just what had taken place, Jess became impatient with the Doctors fussing. He seemed to be checking him over more thoroughly than on his previous visits.
“Come on Doc. I’m feeling much better. You don’t need to waste your time on me anymore!” Jess exclaimed.
“Now don’t try telling me my job, son. How’s this feel?” As he spoke, the Doctor lifted Jess’ broken arm above his head.
“Feels fine, Doc,” Jess turned his head away so as to hide the flinch he knew he made as the Doctor stretched his arm higher. It felt like he was pulling it out of its socket and the scar in his side was pulling painfully.
“Don’t lie to me, Jess. I know you too well,” the Doctor chuckled softly. “It’s all right, I know it’s bound to hurt, but it is moving fully.”
Jess couldn’t help but laugh back. “All right, Doc, let’s just say if it was anyone else hurtin’ me like that, I’d have decked him by now.”
“Well, I’m going to call Slim in now. I reckon it’s about time you started building up those muscles more and I want to show the two of you what needs to be done.”
“No need to trouble Slim, I’ll behave,” Jess responded quickly.
“I’m sure you will, Jess, but some of these exercises will need him to help. And anyway, if you tell him, it’s okay for you to start to get out of bed a little bit, he’s bound not to believe you. So, I guess he needs to hear that from me.” The Doctor moved to the door to fetch Slim, who he knew would be waiting anxiously on the other side to know how Jess was.
Jess was so busy feeling affronted at being treated like a naughty child being reported to its parent, that what the Doctor said failed to register immediately. As Slim came over, the doctor’s words suddenly registered. “Hey! Doc, did you just say I could get out of this bed?”
Slim turned and looked sternly at his partner. “Jess, stop pushing the good Doctor.”
“It’s all right, Slim. I did say Jess could get up for a while. Nothing too strenuous and not for too long, mind you.”
Slim was determined that Jess understood that limits were being set to his new freedom. “Okay, Doc. Just what are we talking about?”
The Doctor was used to how difficult a patient Jess could be. “Let’s start gently shall we? Just up in the living room for an hour so, and if that goes well, then out on the porch and a little walking, not to far, by this time next week. Oh, and no riding, not for another month at least. Now, if’ you’ll just let me show you these exercises for Jess to do, I’ll be on my way.”
Jess suffered through the Doctors demonstration of the exercises that he was to do three times a day. All the time he was making his own plans regarding his recuperation. By Jess’ revised schedule, he would be walking to the corral and brushing down the horses by the end of the week, and the following week would see him mounted on Traveller, and escaping the confines of the ranch, at least for a few hours. Of course, he was going to have to achieve all this while Slim and Daisy weren’t around to make him behave.
Shortly afterward the doctor left, promising to come by the following week to check again on Jess’ progress. As soon as he heard the doctor’s buggy leave the yard, Jess was agitating to get up.
“Hurry up, Slim, where are you?” he called, acknowledging to himself that he probably would need some help, at least this first time.
“I’ll be with you in a few minutes, Jess, just be patient,” came Slims shouted reply.
When several minutes had passed and no one had come in to help, Jess decided he would do it himself. He was sure if he took it slow he could make it to his feet. He pushed upward with his good arm and made his first mistake. As his stomach muscles tightened to pull him upright, the deep bullet wound in his side protested the move. With a low groan he clutched at his side and fell back against the pillows. He lay still, waiting for the pain to subside and formulating a plan that would get him upright without putting such a strain on his wounds.
Cautiously he rolled onto his uninjured side and gingerly lowered his feet towards the floor. When this was achieved with only minor discomfort, he pushed upward with his good arm and levered himself into a sitting position. Before he could even congratulate himself on achieving an upright position, the waves of nausea assailed him. He shut his eyes tightly as the room spun around him and forced himself to slow his breathing. Gradually his stomach settled and he opened his eyes to find the room had stopped swinging around him. As long as he stayed still it remained that way.
“So much fer easy,” he muttered, and then glanced anxiously at the slightly open bedroom door, hoping he hadn’t been heard. When it appeared his efforts had gone un-noticed he slowly turned his head to survey the room. ‘Where had Slim put his cloths?’. They were nowhere to be seen. ‘So he thought he could keep me in bed by hiding my cloths, huh? Well, it ain’t gonna work, Pard.’ Jess thought to himself.
His eyes finally settled on the chest of draws across the room. Daisy always placed his spare clean clothes in there. Perhaps Slim had gotten careless and forgotten that. Jess eyed the distance warily, admitting to himself that the journey might prove a little daunting. ’Won’t know unless you try’ he admonished himself. ‘Best get to it then.’
Jess started to push himself upward on to his feet. He was totally unprepared for the pain that shot through his injured side as he tried to straighten up. With a loud gasp he sat back down heavily on the bed and groaned as the nausea came back with a vengeance.
“Jess Harper! What do you think you are trying to do?” Daisy chastised her errant son.
Raising his head slowly from where he had rested it against his hands as he waited for the world to stop spinning, Jess had the good grace to look guilty.
“Daisy, the Doc did say I could get up today, and you all seemed so busy–” he tried to placate her as she stood, hands on hips, directly in front of him, blocking his way out of the bed.
“I know what the doctor said. He carefully explained just how much exercise and freedom you were to be allowed, and it certainly didn’t include you getting yourself up and out on your own the moment he has left. And did you intend to present yourself in company wearing only your underclothes?” she pointed out.
Jess’ face colored as he realized his state of undress. Despite the renewed pain and sickness the sudden movement caused, he immediately swung himself back into bed and pulled the covers up.
Seeing the pain drawn white features, Daisy relented a little. “Look, everyone is a little busy right now. Mort saw some stray cows over on the south range as he rode in. He said the fence was down. Slim, Andy and Sam have had to go round them up and fix the fence.”
“All three of them?” Jess’ voice was querulous.
“Slim knew you’d be pulling at the bit to get up, so he thought if all of them went, they would get it done quickly and get back in plenty of time to help you,” Daisy soothed. “I suppose I could help you get washed and dressed,” she volunteered sweetly, knowing full well what the shy young man’s reaction would be.
While Jess had been very ill and barely aware of the world around him, Daisy had washed, shaved and helped change his clothing frequently. The moment Jess had become more aware of his surroundings, he had insisted that only one of the men should help him in these basic activities. This shy, easily embarrassing aspect of Jess’ character was one of the things about him that Daisy found so endearing.
His cheeks burning red, Jess pulled the blankets even higher around himself and responded quickly. “No—no. It’s okay, Daisy, I can wait. Besides, I think I tired myself some with my last efforts. Perhaps I’ll just lie here awhile and rest. Besides, they shouldn’t be too long now, Huh?”
“All right, Jess. If that’s what you want,” Daisy was fighting hard not to show her amusement at Jess’ predictable reaction. She felt a little twinge of guilt at having to lie to him, but she was sure she would be forgiven later, when everything was revealed. “I’ve just boiled the kettle, would you like some coffee?” she offered by way of compensation.
Coffee was always welcome as far as Jess was concerned. He gave a slight nod and settled back against the pillows to wait for his treat.
Only a few short minutes later Jess had drunk his coffee and, suddenly feeling tired he found himself drifting off to sleep. As she closed the bedroom door quietly behind her, Daisy felt a little twinge of guilt, but it was, after all only a small dose of the sleeping draft the doctor had left that she had slipped into the strong black coffee, and a few hours’ sleep would help Jess cope better with what lay ahead later that day.
A few hours later, Jess awakened to the sound of Mikes voice and then his left shoulder was being shaken.
“Come on, Slim, isn’t he awake yet?” Mike implored from the living room
“Patience, Mike, I’m getting to it.” Slim turned his attention back to his sleeping friend
“Jess, you sleepy head, I thought you wanted out of this bed.” Slim gently shook Jess’ shoulder again.
“Huh?” came the querulous reply from a fuzzy headed Jess, “Thought you were out mending the fence in the south pasture?”
“That was hours ago.”
Jess shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. “Mouth feels like its full of cotton, and my head is matching it.”
“Here,” Slim thrust a glass of cool water into Jess’ hand. He swallowed it back gratefully.
“What time is it?” Jess head was beginning to clear and he had a nagging feeling something was going on that he should know about.
“It’s almost supper time, you slept the afternoon away,” informed Slim.
“Tarnation. I wanted to be up by now. I must have been more tired than I thought.”
Daisy’s soft voice joined the conversation, her conscience getting the better of her. “I’m afraid I have a confession to make, Jess. The doctor wanted to be sure you didn’t overdo it so he left a painkiller and sleeping draft for you to take regularly. I knew you were so all fired up about getting out of bed that you wouldn’t take it voluntarily, so I slipped it into your coffee. I think maybe I over did the dose a little.”
“A little!” Jess exclaimed.
“Now don’t go getting riled, Jess,” Slim admonished, Daisy had good reasons. She wanted you good and rested for tonight.”
That statement got Jess’ attention. “Tonight! What’s going on tonight?”
“Well if you’ll calm down and co-operate, I’ll get you cleaned up and you’ll find out.” Slim brought over Jess’ clean clothes from the chest of drawers. “Daisy ain’t you got a few things to be finishing of.”
“I certainly have.” Daisy turned and smiled at Jess. “Am I forgiven?”
Jess was never able to stay angry at Daisy for more than a few seconds. She only had to look at him with that mothering smile on her face, and his frustration and anger just melted away. “Sure. But what is all this secrecy about?” He turned his best ‘little boy lost’ look on her, but Daisy had long ago learned not to melt under the gaze of those soft blue eyes.
As hard as it was to keep the secret, she smiled at him as she left the room. “That won’t work on me, Jess. You’re just going to have to be patient,” and then she was gone.
Patience was one virtue Jess had never been strong in. He tolerated Slim shaving him and helping him wash and dress, while trying to get Slim to give him a hint, a snippet of information on what was going on. The excitement in the air was palpable and conveyed itself to Jess, who showed it by becoming impatient and irritable.
“Come on Slim, why do I have to be all spruced up. I’m only going to sit by the fire for a while. That don’t need me fresh shaven and in my best shirt.”
“You know how particular Daisy can be, and she wants your first meal at table with us since you died to be a special one. You wouldn’t want to disappoint her, would you?” Slim said as he eased Jess right arm into the sleeve.
“This meal really means that much to Daisy, huh?” Jess asked as he eyed up his friend. It suddenly dawned on him that Slim was in his Sunday best clothes.
“It sure does, and I ain’t about to disappoint her.” Slim had finished buttoning up Jess’ shirt and now helped him to stand so he could tuck it neatly into his trousers. That done, he placed a steadying arm around Jess’ waist and started to help him into the living room.
Although this had been Jess’ goal for many days, now that the time had come, he was nervous about it. He gritted his teeth, determined to achieve his goal. Taking a steadying breath, he waited for the room to stop spinning, then took his first tentative steps towards independence.
Leaning heavily on his Pard, he stepped into the living room. His entire focus was on placing one foot in front of the other. Only when Slim had helped him to sit down in his customary place at the table did he raise his eyes to look around the room. A sharp intake of breath indicated his shock as he saw the sea of caring looks all focused on him.
He felt the hot flush of embarrassment color his cheeks. “Aww, come on. Haven’t you seen a man walking before?”
Everyone just smiled even more, then Daisy broke the spell. “We’re all just so pleased to see you out of that bed and looking so well. And, my word, don’t you look spruced up.”
Jess’ cheeks colored more. “It was Slim!” he exclaimed, “I told him I didn’t need to be all dressed up.” Then Jess did a double take. Everyone in the room was wearing their ‘ going to the church social’ best. Daisy looked positively lovely in a dress Jess couldn’t recall seeing her in before. Andy was wearing a smart Eastern dress suit and Sam was in a similar one purchased while he had been in Laramie. Even Mike was shining like he had been polished clean.
A sweep around the room showed that the table was set with the best tablecloth and tableware. Dishes that had been Slims mothers had been set out on the table. They had only been used on one other occasion that Jess could recall, and that had been the day they had been told of Andy’s acceptance at the collage, had been set out on the table. Fresh flowers formed the centerpiece and rose proudly from vases on the mantel piece. Colorful paper chains were hung around the room, and enticing smells were coming from the kitchen.
This was what had been keeping them all so busy during the day. But why? Jess had been laid up before, as had Slim, and while Daisy always welcomed their returning good health with a culinary treat, nothing like this had ever happened before that Jess could recall.
“What’s going on?” He looked from face to smiling face, waiting for an explanation.
“We’re celebrating, Jess.” Mike chirped up.
“I kinda figured that out for myself, Tiger. But what are we celebrating?”
“A whole lot of things, Jess. Let’s sit down and get this meal started. I’d hate to think of Daisy’s good cooking spoiling on the stove while we talk. We’ll tell you everything as we eat,” Slim instructed.
Now that Jess was on the road to good health again, his appetite was coming back. He’d missed his launch and his stomach growled at the thought of food. The idea of being with his family at the table was a boost to his feeling of well-being as well.
Taking the not-so-subtle hint from Slim Daisy served up a first course of rich beef broth accompanied by fresh warm bread. However, before anyone could start to eat, Slim spoke up. “I think this is a very special occasion, for many reasons, and I’d like us to join hands as a family and say a small prayer of thanks, because we really do have a lot to be thankful for.”
In response hands were joined and heads lowered as Slim voiced all their thoughts in a simple prayer of thankfulness.
“Dear Lord, we’d like to give thanks for the food you’ve placed before us and for the blessing of family and good friends to eat it with. You have blessed us by the safe return of Jess to his family, and a new friend to share our happiness with. Help us to be worthy of your gifts. Amen.”
A chorus of voices echoed Slim’s sentiments. Each person at that table had been tossed on a stormy sea, and had survived the Tempest to become a stronger, better person, secure and protected in their love and family bonds with each other. Even Sam now had a true brother and a caring family, for that is how all at the Sherman Ranch had welcomed him.
The first course was eaten in near silence as each person allowed the words of the prayer to warm their hearts as the soup warmed their stomachs. As Daisy cleared the dishes with Mikes help, Slim spoke up again. “We have a lot to be thankful for. Sam, do you want to tell Jess your news or shall I?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry Jess, I meant to tell you the moment I got back from town, but the doctor wanted to see you, and then Slim needed help with all this.” Sam waved his arms around the room.
“I shoulda known Daisy wasn’t being entirely truthful about those fences,” Jess exclaimed.
Slim came to her defense. “Oh, we did have a fence to mend, and we wanted the necessary chores all done quickly so we could all relax and enjoy all this. It ain’t often we got cause to celebrate like this, but believe me, we sure do have good reason tonight. Sorry, Sam you carry on and I’ll stay quiet.”
“It’s all right, Slim. You can tell Jess if you like.” Sam was still having difficulty coming to terms with the many changes that had been wrought in his life since finding Jess.
“No, no, Sam. This is your news; you go right ahead.” Slim rejoined
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, will one of you tell me what’s going on before I’m forced to shoot one of you?” Jess was growing impatient.
Daisy and Andy had returned to the table and began to fill it with dishes of vegetables and meat. A succulent smell of roast chicken came from the main plate.
“Now don’t tease poor Jess boys, or else I’ll have to make you all wait for me to serve this up.” Daisy started to pile chicken onto the first plate as she spoke.
Andy took pity on Jess. “There was a reward on Mace, Jess, a pretty big one. It wasn’t easy, but we managed to persuade Sam to take it. That new suit he’s wearing is part of a new wardrobe he bought when he was in Laramie.”
A wide, contented smile spread across Jess’ features. “That’s wonderful news, Sam.” As far as Jess was concerned it was more than enough reason for this celebratory supper, but he was soon to learn differently.
“Oh, that’s not the best of it, Jess. I mean sure, that is good, but the best is yet to come. Tell him, Sam,” Andy commanded.
While they had been speaking, Daisy had served a plate of meat to everyone, and now they passed the vegetables around the table.
“This sure looks good, Daisy,” Jess commented as he started to eat. A moment later he started to splutter as he almost choked on a piece of chicken as Sam’s next piece of news took him completely by surprise.
“Mace had a very large price on his head, Jess. Thanks to Slim, the Sheriff and the doctor, I’ve been accepted for medical school back East. That reward is enough to pay for my education and support me while I study.” Sam said all in a rush. It was a dream come true and he was still having trouble believing it himself.
It was this piece of news that had sent Jess into a coughing fit. Slim reached over and patted his Pard on the back until the coughing subsided and he recovered his breath enough to speak. “That’s the best piece of news I’ve heard in a long time. You deserve it, Sam. I recall sayin’ before that you’d make a good doctor. One of the best.”
“There’s more,” Mike cut in excitedly. He had been bursting to tell Jess this since the morning when he had heard the doctor and the Sheriff confirm the arrangements.
“All right, young man. You’ll get your chance. But right now, let Andy and Sam tell their story,” Daisy laughed, getting caught up in the rising excitement she could feel.
Now Andy took up the story. The doctor was very impressed with Sam’s work, Jess and he used his contacts back East to get Sam a place in college close to where I’m studying law. Mort vouched for Sam’s good character, and with the doctor sponsoring him, Sam was given a place. That was why he stayed in town the extra day to get all the wires sent and to buy the stage and train tickets. He’s traveling back with me on the East bound stage day after tomorrow and I’ve arranged for him to stay in my lodgings” Andy and Sam had found they got along well and enjoyed each other’s company. It was to be expected really, given that both of them loved and got on well with Jess.
Finding his voice at last, Sam rejoined the conversation. “Isn’t it wonderful, Jess. Andy and I will room together and during the holidays I’ll come back here. I’ll work with the doctor to get in more practice and in my spare time I will be able to be with Andy helping out here with you and Slim.”
“And me,” Mike added again. “Aunt Daisy will be able to cook you her special apple pie as well. Isn’t it just great, Jess.”
Reaching across, Jess tousled Mike’s hair. “You bet, Tiger.”
The group went quiet for a minute whist they did justice to Daisy’s good cooking. Suddenly another thought struck Jess. “Hey, with Andy and Sam going back East in two days, you’re going to have to let me up more and, on a horse, as soon as possible. There is going to be a lot of work to do around here. That problem with the stock and meeting the mortgage hasn’t gone away while I was ill. Never mind, I’m sure with a little hard work we will muddle through.”
Jess wasn’t too worried about things. They’d had it hard in the past, but together the family had always made it through, and they would this time as well. The way he was looking at it, the situation provided him with a good argument for allowing him up and about a lot sooner than the doctor had said.
Slim was very much aware from past experience with Jess as a patient just how his friend was thinking. He laughed softly. “No way, Jess. You are going to do just what the doctor says. There is no way I’m going to let you jeopardize all Sam’s and our good work.”
Not prepared to give up that easily, Jess tried again. “But, Slim, what about the ranch?”
“The ranch is fine, Jess, in fact it is more than fine. The way things have worked out, we may be able to afford to buy some quality breeding stock next season.”
“But, I don’t understand, only a few weeks ago you said we was close to losing it all?” Jess was uneasy, he felt he was missing something here but couldn’t figure it out.
Daisy took pity on him and decided it was time to tell him the full story. “Slim is telling you the truth, Jess. You see Tom had a price on his head too. Oh, it wasn’t as much as Mace’s, but it was more than enough to solve our problems. Sam wouldn’t accept the reward on his brother. He said it would be like accepting blood money. He wanted all of us to have it. In fact, he wouldn’t accept the reward on Mace unless Slim agreed to accept the reward for Tom on behalf of all of us.” Daisy sat back with a satisfied smile, as she saw the bewildered look on her middle sons face turn to wonder.
“So, are you tellin’ me that thanks to Sam’s generosity we’ll be able to cover our stock losses this year?” Jess asked of the group in general.
“We’ve been able to do much more than that, Jess,” Slim took up the story. “Tom and Mace had quite a list of crimes against them. The stage and railroad companies were offering a lot of money. The mortgage is cleared, Pard, and we can still afford that new breeding stock as well as a few other little things. I hope you don’t mind me taking the decision on how best to use the money, Jess, but you were out of it for a while and I reckoned that ensuring the ranch was saved would be what you would want.”
The smile on Jess’ face was growing wider, if that was possible. “You reckoned right, Slim. You know, now I understand the celebration. We’ve got two good reasons to celebrate, not just one.” Jess turned to Sam, “Seems I owe you much more than my life Sam. I don’t know how I’m ever going to thank you.”
“No Jess, meeting you and your family has turned my life around. You taught me what it was like to belong, and how terrible it was to think you were alone. You showed me how to stand up for what was right and your family showed me what caring really meant. If anybody owes anything, by my reckoning it’d be me that owes you good folk.”
“Aunt Daisy?” Mike queried, “I thought this celebration was for–”
Slim interrupted quickly, not wanting Mike to pre-empt the final surprise and spoil all their hard work. So far it would appear Jess had not remembered what day it was, but he was shortly going to find out. “You thought it was to celebrate Jess safe return to us, and yes, Mike that makes three good reasons to celebrate.”
Mike looked puzzled but before he could say more Daisy spoke up. “Mike, will you help me clear these dishes now everyone has finished. Then I’ll be able to bring in the desert.”
Well aware of just what desert was going to be, Mike hastened to help. As he brought the last lot of dishes from the table out into the kitchen, Daisy spoke quietly to him.
“Hush now, Mike, we don’t want to spoil the real surprise, do we?”
Mike shook his head. “But doesn’t Jess realize what day it is?” he persisted in asking.
“I don’t believe he does, Mike. He was never one for celebrating such things, being alone most of his life. I know we always have tried to make it special in some small way since he’s come to live here, just as we do for each of us, but I do believe if left to his own devices he would just treat today like any other day. And don’t forget, he has been out of it for a few weeks. He probably isn’t even aware of what day of the week it is.” Daisy did her best to explain things to Mike.
“Boy Howdy, is he going to be really surprised then,” Mike expounded.
“Well, he will be if you can keep the secret a few minutes longer. Now off you go back to the table.”
Mike obediently returned to his seat.
Sniffing the air, Jess enquired, “Say, Daisy, seeing this is a celebration, how come I don’t smell any of that delicious apple pie smell coming from the kitchen. We can’t have a celebration without one of your pies.”
“That’s because I haven’t made one, Jess. I do have other culinary treats that I can prepare you know,” Daisy shouted from the kitchen.
Everyone around that table but Jess knew what was coming next and was waiting expectantly. All their eyes fixed on Jess and he began to feel decidedly uncomfortable. “Hey, have I just grown two heads or something?” he joked.
Then, all of a sudden everyone turned to look at Daisy as she came in from the kitchen with the grand finale to their meal. She walked straight to where Jess was sitting and placed the huge chocolate cake with its single large lit candle directly in front of Jess.
Jess stared at it dumbfounded, then looked from one smiling face to another, seeking some help to clarify the situation. Finally he said, “I don’t understand–?”
“You really have forgotten–,” Slim said. “Jess, it’s your birthday and that’s your birthday cake. That’s what this party is all about. This is your first birthday since you came back from the dead, and we wanted to make it special for you, to show you how important you are to us and how happy we are to have you back.”
Overwhelmed by the caring love his family were showing for him; Jess became embarrassed as his eyes filled with moisture again. He was lost for words and looked towards his Pard for help.
As always Slim came to his rescue. “Come on, Jess, blow that candle out. In deference to your still healing lungs, we’ve made it easy on you. There is only one to blow out, so make sure you get it. Remember what Jonesy used to say about it being bad luck not to blow all the candles out with one breath. Do a good job, because I think you’ve had all the bad luck possible and it’s time for things to change.”
“And don’t forget to make a wish.” Mike added.
For a moment Jess hesitated, trying to think of what to wish for. Then he looked around at the faces of his family and knew exactly what he would wish for. Right here in this room he had everything he could ever want. The fact that for a while he was convinced, he had never had it had made him realize afresh what was really important. He closed his eyes; let out his breath, snuffing out the small flame with one blow, and wished with all his heart that his family would be around him like this, forever.
Opening his eyes, he found that a pile of brightly wrapped parcels had appeared in front of him. The question was clear in his eyes as again Jess looked to Slim for help.
“Well, go on and open them. They are your birthday presents after all,” the tall blonde prompted.
As Jess opened each parcel in turn, he felt himself surrounded by the love of his family to the point were he would burst. He admired the carved casket that Slim gave to him having dug it up and cleaned it.
“You may as well use it to keep your private things in, it didn’t seem right to keep it in the ground, and I thought–” Slim explained.
Jess looked admiringly at the intricate carving and then raised moist eyes to meet Slims. “This is your work?” he asked.
“Yes, I hoped you wouldn’t mind, I mean I know it was sort of your coffin, but it was carved with love and”
Jess cut him off, truly affected by the caring shown in each finely worked design. “I’m glad you rescued it, Slim. I will truly treasure it.”
Next came Mike’s small, carved horse. Jess admired this to, all the more appreciative when he realized how hard it had been for the boy. “You sure have been practicing those whittling strokes I taught you, Mike. This is real fine work.”
Mike beamed happily at the warm praise. He had also given Jess the notes he had written down to place in the box. He explained that he wanted Jess to know all that he felt about him but had never told him. He still didn’t feel brave enough to say what he felt out loud but he wanted Jess to read his letters just the same.
Jess had started to read them but found his throat closing off and the tears threatened to fall again after only the first few lines. He wiped his left arm across his eyes and folded the papers back up. “The lights a little poor in here, Mike. Is it all right if I read them tomorrow in the day light.”
Everyone at the table could see how emotional Jess was becoming and recognized his need to stay in control. This time it was Daisy who came to the rescue. “That will be fine, won’t it, Mike? Now come on, there are more gifts here for you. This one is from me.” She thrust another small parcel at Jess.
This time it was a pair of beautifully made black leather gloves. Jess tried them on. They fitted perfectly. “Thanks, Daisy, how did you know I needed–?”
“Now Jess, you surely don’t think I could clean yours and Slim’s room and put them away each night and not know they we’re getting worn?”
Jess was just beginning to realize all the little things Daisy did each day that showed how much she loved her special family. It added to the warm glowing feeling inside him. Whatever had he done in his life to deserve such care?
The next small parcel was the bright blue bandana Andy had brought with him when he had come home. Jess stared at the brightly colored material and then promptly added it to his current ensemble. He struggled with the knot, his right shoulder still not being fully functional, so Slim reached across to help.
“It looks good,” he smiled at his Pard, as he finished and sat back down.
“I’m sorry it’s not much, Jess, but I was saving everything I could so I could pay for my ticket to get home for your birthday. That was all I could afford after that.” Andy felt he had to explain.
“Just you being here is the best present I could ever want,” Jess supplied. “And this is just perfect, the color is like a summers sky.”
“I know you love the color blue, so I couldn’t resist it when I saw it. It seemed made for you.” Andy explained further.
“It matches the blue of your eyes,” Daisy supplied, keeping her face straight.
They all burst out laughing as once more Jess’ cheeks burned red. He was saved from having to respond by Sam. “This ones from me, Jess. Mike helped me pick it out.”
Once open, the parcel revealed a deep blue shirt, very similar to the one Jess had been wearing the dreadful day of the accident. “I figured between the river and me, we ruined that shirt of yours. Daisy told me it was one of your favorites, so I thought–”
“You didn’t have to b–buy me anything, Sam. I already owe y– you–” Jess stammered out, feeling totally overwhelmed at the sentiments being expressed around him.
“I wanted to, Jess. Like I said earlier, the way I see it, you gave me back my life. I kinda think of you as the brother I should have had, that is if you don’t mind–”
“I’d be mighty proud to have you as part of my family, Sam,” Jess’ voice was raspy with emotion.
“Good, that’s settled then. Welcome to the family, Sam.” Slim slapped him firmly on the back. “Hang in there, Jess. We’re almost finished.” He handed Jess the last of the parcels that had been placed in front of him.
Mike couldn’t resist commenting. “Come on Jess, hurry up. That chocolate cake is waiting for us to eat it.”
“All right, Mike. It’s making my mouth water too. I didn’t think I could eat another bite after that meal, Daisy, but I think I could make room for a slice of that.” Jess looked pointedly at the rich dark confection.
“Just as soon as you’ve opened that last present, Jess. It’s from all of us. We all agreed it was the best thing we could spend the rest of the reward money on.” Daisy urged him, pushing the last parcel closer to him again.
From the way everyone’s eyes were fixed on him, Jess knew this last gift was extra special, although as far as he was concerned, he couldn’t imagine anything that could give him more pleasure than what had already occurred so far. Slowly, almost reverently, he removed the wrapping to reveal the two precious items within.
Jess picked up the first item. And turned it over with trembling hands. Slim noticed he was shaking and was about to ask if he was feeling alright, but when Jess lifted his eyes to meet his, he saw the tears falling from wide eyes and realized Jess was overcome with emotion.
Using the time to try and slow his breathing and bring his emotions back under control, Jess returned to examining the ornately carved gold pocket watch. He flicked open the catch and was overcome with emotion again as he read the words engraved inside.
‘To Jess. From his Loving Family.’
He swallowed hard then started to speak. “I d-don’t know w-what to s–say—.“
“Don’t say a word, Pard. We just wanted to make sure you could never get lost again. Now come on, check out the other part.” Slim urged his friend.
Once more Jess dropped his eyes and picked up the last item on the table. The soft leather of the hand stitched wallet felt good in his hands.
“Look inside Jess,” an excited Mike prompted again.
Jess threw him a warm smile and then did as he was bid. His eyes fixed on the small photograph that had been placed in a special pocket inside the wallet. “H–How did–?” His voiced trailed off as once more his emotions threatened to spill over.
Now Slim explained. “Mort helped a lot. He wired his contacts across the territory and finally managed to track down that traveling photographer that took that old photograph of us all. He still had the original plate, so when we explained the circumstances, he was happy to oblige, for a small fee of course.” He watched as Jess studied the new, undamaged print of himself surrounded by his family. “We thought it wasn’t going to get here in time, but Mort brought it out with him this morning.”
Jess had been about to say he would have to speak to Mort about plotting against him, but he had pulled the photograph out and noticed the small inscription written in Daisy’s neat hand, on the back.
‘To Our Jess. From your family at the Sherman Ranch, Laramie. Lest you should forget.’
He looked up and met Daisy’s sweet smile across the table. “We’re not taking any chances ever again, Jess,” she laughed. You’re never going to be lost to us again, no matter how hard you try.”
Overwhelmed and embarrassed, but loving every wonderful moment of this unexpected celebration, Jess looked from smiling face to smiling face around the table. Finally, his eyes locked with Slim’s and he managed to speak again, forcing the words past his emotionally constricted throat. I–I don’t know what to s–say. I–I can’t —. Thank you, T–thank you all–“his voice petered out again as his eyes once more filled with moisture and the tears of happiness threatened to overwhelm him again.
Then Slim stepped in. “Then don’t say another word, Jess. That chocolate cake is waiting. Just know that you are a part of our family and our lives and that we can never do without. So, before we set to on that cake, I’d like to make a small speech—”
A chorus of, “Oh, no. We’ll never get to taste that cake,” greeted him.
He laughed then continued on. “This will only take a moment, I promise. But it is vital that it is said or today wouldn’t be complete.” Slim stood and locked eyes with his Pard, then he raised his glass high and beaming his happiness at everyone around the table, and lastly looking again at Jess alone, he said his simple, but vital message.
“Happy Birthday Jess. From all of us.”
–The End–
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