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Silence is golden
Jantallian
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1
Breakfast
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Absolute silence reigned at the breakfast table in the Sherman Stage Stop. From the kitchen, Jonesy couldn't even hear the sound of a chair creak or a knife rattle. He was used to nothing more than a grunt and a growl from Jess in the morning, but to get the same from Slim was almost unprecedented.
What the heck had the pair of them been up to? He'd never known either of them with a hangover so bad they couldn't speak, although with Jess this was a moot point as he never talked much until breakfast was over anyway. Had they, God forbid, had a real quarrel? Surely not? They were prone to the kind of amicable bickering of those who know each other's quirks extremely well and to the teasing and sparring that you get between siblings. This was scarcely surprising when Jess was the brother in all but blood who filled the gap between Slim and Andy. Could it be something to do with Andy? Jess didn't always see eye to eye with Slim on the matter of freedom and discipline, but then, on this subject as on others where they had a real difference of opinion, they treated each other's views with respect, even if it was only after a good fight.
Jonesy sighed and refilled the coffee pot and took it to the table. On closer inspection it certainly looked to be some kind of a fight. Slim wasn't talking because a swollen jaw, split lip and the beginnings of a fine black eye made clear speech difficult. Jess, presumably, was just being Jess.
The silence continued until the level in the coffee pot had fallen considerably, mostly due to Jess, as usual. After a while, he started to say: "I still think -"
Slim glared at him ferociously. His whole demeanour said "Shut up, Jess!", even if he was not up to articulating the words.
Much to Jonesy's surprise, Jess shut up. Admittedly his eyes narrowed and that bright blue gaze transfixed Slim like a skewer, but he didn't argue. And something serious was clearly afoot because he wasn't even eating, just pushing the food around his plate in an half-hearted fashion as if he had forgotten what it was there for.
Jonesy tried to remember the last time Jess had been off his food, but it was like thinking the unthinkable. Nothing short of unconsciousness or serious medical emergency could separate Jess Harper from what he considered proper nourishment. Except ... except if something sufficiently alluring distracted him ... Jonesy was about to open his mouth and act on this conjecture when both young men reached for the coffee pot at the same time.
There was a moment of impasse and then Jess shrugged and let go. "Drink it and get y' thick skull clear! Then start actin' like there's a brain in there!" he suggested irritably.
Slim sloshed some coffee into his cup but did not deign to answer this insult. Jess grunted and grabbed the pot to pour himself yet another refill. It was empty.
The grunt became a savage snarl. Jess jumped to his feet, grabbed the pot again and stormed off into the kitchen. The sound of haphazard rattling and banging assaulted Jonesy's ears. Silence would have been far preferable.
"You break anything out there, boy, an' you'll be washin' up for a month!" he warned.
The kitchen door was kicked open and Jess stalked through with a coffee pot in each hand.
"Here!" He dumped one between Slim and Jonesy and took the other one pointedly to the far end of the table, where he could sit and scowl directly at Slim. "Get that down y' and you might start to see sense!"
"Your kind of sense?" Slim muttered with all the sarcasm he could manage through the split lip. "Since when?"
"Since I ain't fallin' flat on my face!" Jess retorted. "Hell, when you fall, you sure fall hard!"
Jonesy looked from one to the other in perplexity. This looked like a little more than an accidental stumble off the sidewalk.
"Keep your nose out of it!" Slim snarled "Or so help me, I'll break it for you myself and then no-one's going to call you handsome for a long time!"
Uh -oh, female trouble! Jonesy groaned to himself. On the whole, given the relatively short supply of eligible young women in the district, the two young men generally managed to avoid treading on each other's toes. Of course there was the occasional accusation of poaching when one or other got invited to dine by a particularly good cook, but, on the whole, it was good-humoured ribbing. Besides, they had very different tastes in women and Jonesy had rather thought that Jess -
His musings were rudely interrupted by Jess slamming both hands down on the table. "If you think I wanted any part of compliments like those -"
"Yeah, you made that really clear, didn't you?"
"I was bein' polite," Jess protested, assuming his most blameless expression, which unsurprisingly fooled neither of his companions.
"So you say now " Slim sneered. "Don't know why you don't take your own warnings."
"I don't need warning, that's why. I can see what's under my nose."
"Under your nose is the washing up! You can git an' look after the clearing!" Jonesy told him roundly, in an effort to bring the confrontation to an end. Then, seeing Jess was about to object that it was not his turn, the shrewd old cook, for once, made a fatal error of judgment. He took a dim view of Slim getting involved with saloon girls (for such he presumed the dispute was about) and so he turned to the tall, blonde rancher and continued: "Although why, if y' run a ranch, y' can't bring home a nice God -fearing girl with the skills t' help run it and make you a comfortable home -"
"Exactly!" Slim leapt to his feet and slammed out of the door.
A split second later, Jess was after him.
Jonesy sat, stunned and baffled. There was no sound from the yard outside. Presently he stood up with a deep sigh and began to clear away the largely uneaten breakfast. Goodness knows whether they would still be refusing food at midday, but, knowing Jess was already short of one good meal, it seemed unlikely.
He moved slowly and stiffly. Work in the kitchen was waiting. He gathered up the hardly used dishes and carried them out to the sink, all the while listening intently for sounds from the yard.
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Slim stormed silently into the barn and grabbed a pitchfork. Jess strolled over and leaned against the door-post, considering: a pitchfork made a pretty effective weapon, even if you only got beaten with the handle. He gave a slight shrug and went to get the wheelbarrow. If Slim wanted to work off his bad temper shoveling manure, he was only too happy to let him get on with it.
Ten minutes later, Slim was pitching the fork savagely and silently into the soiled bedding. Jess had climbed quietly into the loft and pitched down some clean straw for him. Then, satisfied that he'd done his bit, he slid back down the ladder and ambled out to fetch the first team of the day. He didn't make a sound doing it either; the horses knew him well enough to trot up to the gate and stand waiting obediently. Usually this reaction made Slim smile and pull Jess's leg about speaking horse. Today it made him want to use the pitchfork in a manner for which it was definitely not designed.
Jess let the team follow him into the barn without even haltering a single one of them. It was his usual method of proceeding and Slim was never usually bothered by it. This morning the sound of his grinding teeth was mercifully masked by the noise of vigorous brushing, as Jess cleaned up the horses ready for the stage. Slim continued to clean up the unoccupied stalls. It was his turn, leaving Jess to greet the passengers, but he didn't have to like it.
Presently the Texan finished the grooming and strolled casually back to the house to clean up himself - and, knowing Jess, to grab another cup of coffee. Slim was left in the silence with his own thoughts. It was just ironic that Jess was fronting the relay station today and he didn't even care ... if ... maybe ...
Actually Jess cared a lot - about Slim's health and happiness, not to mention his sanity. He was deep in unaccustomed and far from pleasant thought as he stripped off his shirt and struck his head under the pump. It was typical Jess behaviour, in contrast to the neat and practical way Slim would have drawn some water in a bowl.
Looking out of the kitchen window, Jonesy muttered to himself: "Forgotten a towel again!" He stomped off to the linen shelf and intercepted a dripping Jess, who was absent-mindedly wandering in the front door, regardless of the trail of water he was leaving behind him.
"Outside! Git!" Jonesy growled, shoving the missing towel into his hands.
"Huh?" Jess looked positively dazed.
"This your contribution t' washin' the floor, boy?" Jonesy asked sardonically. Cleaning floors was one of Jess's least favourite tasks.
"Huh?"
"Land's sakes, Jess! What's gotten into the pair of y' this morning?"
Jess returned to earth with a visible effort. "Nothin'."
Jonesy regarded him sceptically. "That's a mighty big nuthin if it's got y' both actin' dumb for real! Now git outside an' dry off!"
He watched the young Texan retreat onto the porch and stand staring at the towel as if he had never seen one before . After an pause and further visible effort, he finally began to mop himself vaguely.
The old cook sighed and muttered: "Not in any fit state t' find a clean shirt, I bet!" He went into the bunk room and, with some difficulty due to the state of Jess's drawers, found the requisite garment.
He stuck his head out of the window and yelled: "Y' clean shirt's on the bunk." Then he went back to his preparations for the passengers. He could only hope Jess would come to sufficiently to deal with them and the team change. As for what Slim was doing ...
Slim was leaning on the pitch-fork, regarding the full wheelbarrow with a positively venomous expression. Even if the stage did bring Hope, there was no way he was going to be able to shower and change in time. He was going to be hot, sweaty and stinking of manure. It just wasn't fair!
At this point, his natural sense of justice asserted itself. It was not his habit to whine and complain, whatever the circumstances. And he knew perfectly well that, if it had been Jess's turn for the dirtier tasks, he would just have got on with them, albeit with a lot of grumbling and muttering. And if it had been his own turn to do the smart stuff today, Slim was honest enough to admit that he himself might have been gloating. But it wasn't and Slim was on no fit state to meet the stage or ... anyone on it ...
As these gloomy and embarrassing thoughts consumed him, he heard the rattle and thudding of hooves which heralded the arrival of the dreaded and simultaneously longed-for stage. Slim retreated to the shadow of the doorway; he had no wish to be seen, but could not bear to be in ignorance of what happened if ...
Jess strolled out of the house as the stage rounded the bend. It was coming from Laramie (that was the whole problem), so he had no reason to play his usual game of standing right its the path, as he did when the north-bound ones hurled down the slope from Cheyenne. The lack of opportunity for this blatant exhibitionism gave Slim brief satisfaction, but the stage had halted and Jess was moving to open the door ...
The coach was empty.
Anti-climax hit Slim like a hammer. He wasn't even relieved. His head suddenly started to ache and his bruised jaw throbbed painfully. Maybe it was too much coffee? All Jess's fault for pushing him at breakfast! His mouth was suddenly dry and tasted foul, certainly not fit to -
Slim stopped thinking abruptly, strode across the yard to douse his own head under the pump and went into the kitchen for a glass of water.
Jonesy looked up from his preparations but made no comment. The reaction at breakfast had put him off offering any further advice on the subject of suitable young ladies, at least for the moment.