Jesse James hurried down the dark streets of St. Joseph, Missouri. He glanced cautiously around him as he approached his house. He couldn't risk letting anyone follow him home. He couldn't place Zerelda and their children in danger.
He reached the backyard of his home at last, stopping momentarily to try and catch his breath, and finding it increasingly more difficult to do so. His lungs felt as if they were on fire. He was going to need someone to dig the bullet out of him soon, and hoped his wife had the strength to do the job.
He smiled. His Zerelda was one hell of a woman. She was beautiful, intelligent, and sassy. She'd helped Frank and the other boys in their gang rescue him from the Pinkertons and put up with his wander lust. His recklessness. His inability to stay out of trouble for only a few months at a time. She was thrifty with their money. Made sure their children got what they needed, and their bills were paid.
Yes, she could handle digging a bullet out of him. But she'd give him what for the entire time she was doing it. As long as she never gave up on him, he'd listen to her curse him until he went to his grave.
He took a shuddering breath and walked up to the back door. He tried the knob. Locked. Zerelda kept everything locked up when he wasn't home. He let out an expletive, before bending his elbow and using it to break the corner pane of glass. Carefully, he stuck his hand inside and unlocked the door.
He'd just opened the door and stepped inside when he heard the distinctive sound of a rifle cocking. "Take one more step inside, Mister, and I'm going to blow a hole through you."
Pride and love filled him at the steel he heard in his wife's voice. "I'd rather you didn't, Zee. I've got one too many bullets in me already."
"Jesse?" Zerelda's voice was filled with surprise and immediate concern.
He heard her set the rifle down and knew he was free to move. He quickly closed and locked the door behind him. He turned back to face the kitchen in time for light to fill it. Zerelda had struck a match and lit one of the lanterns. Then she rushed over to his side.
She threw her arms around him. Jesse grunted as the movement jostled him, and despite the pain, eagerly accepted the kiss she gave him.
"What were you thinking scaring the hell out of me like that?" Zerelda putting her hands on her hips.
"Sorry, Darlin'. I was trying to avoid anyone seeing me." Jesse told her.
Zerelda's eyes narrowed. "And just why didn't you want anyone to see you?"
"Now Zee, " Jesse started, "Can we talk about this while you're digging the bullet out of my side? I really don't want to bleed to death on our kitchen floor."
Zerelda's anger fled as soon as she realized he was really hurt. She helped him over to a chair, and soon had his bloodied shirt stripped off him.
She paled as she got a look at his blood, soaked skin and the nickel size hole in his left side. She scurried about, putting water onto boil, sticking a knife in the fire to sterilize it, getting a sewing needle and thread, tearing a towel into strips for bandages, etc.
Jesse watched her buzz about in pained amusement. There was no one prettier when she was in a tizzy, and his Zerelda was certainly that right then.
"Do you think this will be easier with you sitting or lying down?" Zerelda asked when her preparations were completed.
"Here is fine." Jesse said. "Just get it done Zee."
"Very well."
Zerelda steeled herself for the task at hand. She'd doctored Jesse's cuts before, but she'd never removed a bullet from him. However, she had assisted her father in removing a bullet from someone else, and vaguely remembered how to do it.
She pulled another chair close by and set a tray of what she'd put together on another hand. She handed Jesse a bottle of whiskey she'd retrieved from a cupboard.
Jesse took a couple of swigs of the whiskey, then handed it back to his wife. He gave her a curt nod and braced himself. Zerelda poured a liberal amount of the whiskey over the bullet wound. White hot pain seared through Jesse's torso and it took everything in him not to cry out.
Zerelda chewed on her bottom lip at seeing Jesse in so much pain and knowing she was going to inflict even more on him before she was done. She took a deep breath, gritted her teeth, and got to work on digging the bullet from her husband.
By the time she'd dug it out and dressed the wound, Jesse was sweating profusely. His face was ashen, a slight tremor ran through his body, and he was slightly hunched over. She wordlessly handed him back the bottle of whiskey. Once he'd drunk enough, Zerelda cleaned up the kitchen and helped Jesse into their bedroom.
It took some doing, but eventually Zerelda got Jesse undressed and into their bed. She climbed wearily under the covers beside him.
"Don't think you being injured is going to get you out of explaining to me what you were doing to get shot."
"Now Zee…" Jesse started, but she cut him off.
"Don't 'now Zee' me, Jesse Woodson James! I recall you telling me when our daughter was born that you were giving up the life."
"I was…I am." Jesse told her quickly. "This was my last job, I swear. I just wanted us to have a sizable nest egg before I quit."
"You better be. " Zerelda said. "Our children deserve to grow up with their Pa."
"They will." Jesse swore., kissing her. "Night, Zee."
"Night, Jesse."