The Fire Inside
Chapter One
Smoke. Embers. Screams. Heat. There was only one word that came with the descriptions that triggered in Jess' senses. Fire! He jumped from his bed, the burning fingers of the flames already reaching out to him, ready to consume him and those that he loved. Jess heard the terrifying screams and the choking shouts, but he also heard the laughter. That sick, menacing laughter that was just as cruel as the fury of the flames. He ran, searching for those that screamed his name, children and adults alike, looking everywhere but finding nothing but each room engulfed in the inferno. Jess coughed, feeling the choking smoke pour down his throat and into his lungs. The heat blazed against his face, so close that he felt the skin start to burn. His clothes started to peel off of him in strips as the fabric disintegrated from the torching air. The windows were breaking, the shards falling to the floor only to be snatched away by the multiplying embers, but it was this sound that signaled his safety.
Jess hurried to the closest window, but before he jumped through, there on the other side was a face, a laughing, sinister face and he was frozen to the spot as if what was underneath him was a sheet of ice and not blackening boards. Hatred surged through his chest as he stared into those evil eyes as the ceiling began to collapse around him. He wanted to die with those he loved, but he wanted to see the man responsible die even more. Jess leaped through the window, the remaining shards of glass sticking into his body, but neither the pain from the cuts or the burns that seared through his skin was enough to stop his retaliation. He screamed the villain's name, who still stood nearby, laughing his fool head off.
"Bannister!"
Jess jumped for the man, but in his blind rage he failed to see the other members of the notorious gang. Hands clutched his arms and he was thrown to the ground, but as always, he was ready to fight. Jess thrashed, but the smoke swirled so thickly overhead he couldn't even see the faces of those that hovered over him, ready to finish off what the fire didn't do. He kicked, not caring what or who he hit, but before he could feel any ounce of victory, someone was pulling him to his feet. The smoke cleared as his eyes opened, a face inches away from his own. He balled his hand into a fist and swung, the sound of making impact was loud in his ears and the thud against the wall brought everything around him to its normal imagery.
No smoke. No embers. No screams. No heat. Only a dream, a stupid, senseless dream. Jess put his hand, a hand that he didn't want to admit was quivering, over his eyes as he took in several gulps of cool, untarnished air and felt a presence that wasn't menacing or evil. He pulled his hand away from his face and looked up at Slim, the welt alongside his jaw evident even without a lamp lit.
"Are you all right, Jess?" Slim asked, forcing his hand to not touch his throbbing face where Jess had unintentionally struck him. There was no point emphasizing the fact that his best friend had belted him out of fear. "You were having a nightmare."
"Bannister," Jess said the name coldly, each syllable laced with pronounced vengeance.
"Frank Bannister is dead, Jess," Slim put his hand on his partner's shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. "Remember? When you were at Fort Defiance, you fought with Clint Gentry and his whole crew of men, and Bannister and every single member of his gang were killed. Gentry and Marshal Tram took Bannister down together."
"Yeah," Jess nodded, blinking his eyes several times as if the action would wipe away the images that had burned into his mind in his dream, but they remained, smolderingly evident. "I remember." He would never forget the hard journey chasing down Frank Bannister and his entire gang for over two weeks only to get caught in the middle of a deep river without any expectations of getting out alive when he and Marshal Tram finally caught up with them. While running on foot to the fort, Jess took a bullet from one of Bannister's men, sidelining him enough that when the final fight began, he couldn't put an end to the man who murdered his family. Jess turned his eyes back to Slim, reaching for anything that would change the subject and his gaze latched onto Slim's bruised face. "Did you fall outta bed or something?"
"No," Slim shook his head. "I had the unfortunate situation of putting my face in direct contact with a tightly clenched fist."
"Mine?" Jess questioned softly, staring at the discolored mark still growing and he slowly reached out his hand as if to touch it but then quickly brought his hand back to his side, the guilt of his action that was brought on by the enemies that swarmed around in his dreams. It was only then that he realized that his hand hurt to open and close it, the feeling of pain brought with it more emotions than guilt.
"This is the third night this week that you've had a nightmare, Jess," Slim watched Jess' every movement, the concern for his partner growing with each action. "This one must have been the worst, considering the way you lashed out."
"So what?" Jess stood up abruptly, feeling the need to flee, from Slim, from the nightmare, from everything. "I ain't always gotta have dreams of whiskey and roses do I?"
"No," Slim began but Jess taking firm steps out of the bedroom door stopped him from going further with his statement.
"Then lay off," Jess turned and gave Slim a sharp look before storming out into the night.
Slim followed as far as the front door, but he didn't exit the house, wanting to give Jess the privacy he was seeking. There was no moon, but he could see Jess' silhouette swiftly move towards the barn. When Jess closed the barn door behind him, Slim figured that he wasn't saddling up, but planning on spending the rest of the night with the animals, amongst company that wouldn't ask him overly sensitive questions. Slim stood still for several minutes and as silence remained outdoors, he turned to find Daisy standing alone outside of her bedroom.
"Was it that bad?" Daisy asked softly, the worry lines firmly etched around her eyes.
"The worst," Slim answered as he stepped towards the anxious woman.
"Your face," Daisy reached up and touched Slim's swollen jaw. "It must have been bad for him to do this to you."
"He didn't know he was doing it, Daisy," Slim grimaced slightly as Daisy touched the wound and then sighed after she released his chin. "In his dream, my face was Frank Bannister's."
"Poor Jess," Daisy said, wringing her hands together. "At least Mike slept through this one. The last dream Jess had scared that boy so much he didn't even want to eat breakfast the next morning. I wish there was something we could do."
"I've tried talking to him," Slim shrugged, "but you know Jess, when something's bothering him, he doesn't want it to come out in the open, but just lets it fester until it's ready to explode."
"Maybe tonight was that explosion and it'll be over soon," Daisy looked hopeful despite Slim's doubtful face.
"I'm afraid this is just the beginning, Daisy," Slim said as he rubbed his tender jaw, his mind back at the moment when Jess had struck him, seeing the terrifying look in his partner's eyes. "Jess has a fight on his hands, but the thing is, the fight is with himself, deep down inside where no one else can see."
Slim turned his head towards the closed door, wishing Jess would come through it with a smile on his face, but he knew that his best friend wouldn't be doing so any time soon. He gave Daisy's shoulder a squeeze and then they both returned to their bedrooms, uncertain if sleep would find either of them the remainder of the night. For certain, one member of the household would remain wide eyed until dawn.
Jess stood silently next to his faithful companion, the horse he'd named Traveler. His mount didn't seem surprised to see him, but welcomed him with a soft nuzzle as the gentle animal could sense his tense alarm. He was grateful for something to lend aid, as it was too much just yet for Slim, for Daisy, for anyone to help with even if his family in the Sherman household had the best of intentions. One needed every part of what was broken to help put the tattered remains together and Jess knew that his loved ones inside of the house couldn't see all of the pieces, because Jess hadn't chosen to reveal them. He didn't even want to see them.
It might seem strange to others, Jess was uncertain how to define it himself, but after all of the years since his traumatic loss as a fifteen year old kid, only now had the vicious memories reemerged. Jess sighed, knowing the exact source of his trouble. Frank Bannister. True, he was the beginning, but then again, it was so much more. Slim was right, Bannister was dead and had been for a long time, but fire had recently come alive again and it came at him far more fiercely than the painful fear he'd remembered in the past. How long it would hold onto him now was unknown.
Jess hated feeling this way. He had spent years growing, fighting, toughening his body and mind with grit that came with a life running wild, a life completely on the run, and a life finally finding happiness there at the Sherman ranch. Everywhere in between was spent feeling like he was building a determined wall that separated him from his boyhood, growing tougher with each calendar change until he felt like he was stronger than ever before. But Jess knew he would never be stronger than fire. With greater force than how he'd struck Slim, Jess slammed his fist into the sturdy boards of his horse's stall. The pain that shot through his hand when he flexed it back open was intense, yet it somehow didn't match the sting as it had when that same fist had landed in Slim's face. He dropped his head and if he'd still been a young man of fifteen, Jess Harper would have cried.