For Want of a Button
By Fern Shafer
For want of a nail, the shoe was lost
For want of a shoe the horse was lost
For want of a horse the rider was lost
All for the want of a nail
[Poor Richard's Almanac]
CHAPTER 1
"Jeez!" Jess flinched. "Dadgumit, that's the third time," Jess Harper sucked on his injured finger.
"Problem?" Slim looked up from the accounts book on his desk and over to his half-dressed partner.
"Aw, it's this durn mendin'. Been at it all mornin'. Daisy's been doin' all the sewin' around here. I'm outa practice; and these needles she uses are really sharp." He looked dejectedly down at his shirt newly christened by his bleeding finger.
Slim turned back with a half-smile to his interrupted work, "Better sharp than dull needles. Might do you good to get in a little practice while she's away."
"About time Mike and her got back. Wouldn't haveta be wasting my time sewin' on these buttons if she was here," groused Jess.
Slim sighed, put his pencil down, and stared at the wall. He could tell Jess was in a mood and wasn't about to let Slim concentrate on the ledger's figures, "Well you might have thought ahead and done your sewing last night. You know it'll be several more days before they get home. The late snows are delaying a lot of the stages out of Denver."
"My shirt ain't gonna wait that long. Still gotta get this last button on. She shoulda waited and gone later in the spring."
"Quit complaining. Why don't you just put on another shirt?"
"Ain't got none."
"None?"
"Well, none that's clean." He gave the shirt a quick sniff. "This here's the cleanest of the bunch. That's how come I gotta mend this one. You forgot to do the wash."
"Me?" Slim swiveled in his seat to stare at his partner. "Don't you remember? YOU lost the toss – we used MY coin, not your double-headed one."
Jess looked thoughtful for a few moments, and then grudgingly admitted, "Yeah, guess you're right. Kinda forgot. I'll do the wash once I get this dang last button on. More trouble than all them others I've already done."
"Hope you didn't 'kinda forget' you're feeding the stage passengers. I won that toss too." Slim closed the ledger, rose, and picked up his hat and gun belt off the hooks near the door. "I'll go catch up the fresh team and get them ready. Stage will be here before we know it. Speaking of which, you'd better get your shirt on."
"Why? Ain't no females around. Besides," Jess glanced down at his naked chest and gave a gapped-tooth wolfish grin, "Ain't nothin' some of 'em ain't seen before."
Slim rolled his eyes. "Maybe 'some' but not 'all'. Come on Jess, get a move on."
"Okay, okay." Leaving his shirt on the chair Jess went to the kitchen, stoked the fire under the coffee pot, and pulled out some biscuits left over from the day before. Tapping one on the table to check its hardness he thought, Them'll do for the mornin' stage. He proceeded to put cups, plates, and silverware on the table, as well as a crock of butter and one of jam.
Figuring he still had some time before the stage arrived, Jess picked up the wash tub, went out to the pump and partially filled it. As he picked up the tub, some of the water sloshed on to his bare chest. Dadgum that's cold!
He hurried back inside with the tub and used one of the kitchen towels to dry himself.
He then retrieved his and Slim's dirty laundry from the bedroom and proceeded to shove it all into the wash tub.
Hmmm…way more than I figured. Hardly can get it all in. Ain't gonna take it back outside and have the birds crap on it.
Jess firmly stuffed the entire load beneath the water, causing an overflow onto the floor. Throwing down the kitchen towel he'd used to dry himself, he pushed it around with his boot to sop up the water and then added it to the tub.
There ya go Miss Daisy. Mopped the kitchen floor for ya.
The coffee pot had begun to boil over so he removed it to the serving table. Jess contemplated the still hot stove.
Come to think of it, Daisy sometimes uses warm water to do the wash. Says it helps to get the dirt out. If warm water's good, hot water oughta be even better.
After lifting off two of the range covers, he added more wood and placed the laundry tub squarely on the stove. He was just starting to add some soap flakes when Slim yelled through the living room door, "Jess! Look lively. Stage is coming in early."
Startled, Jess dropped the entire box of flakes into the water.
Maybe more of them's better too. Leastwise I hope so. Spent too much time this mornin' tryin' to get that last button on. Don't got time for nothin' these days with Daisy gone.
He used one of the large kitchen spoons to quickly stir the tub full of clothes. Soapy water sizzled onto the hot stove. Hurrying over to the chair, Jess donned his shirt. To his chagrin, the buttons he had recently sewn on, didn't align with any of their corresponding button holes. Aw heck. Hearing the stage come to a stop out front, Jess settled for buttoning the only original ones, which were the very top and very bottom buttons.
Maybe iffin I just tuck the shirt in tight, nobody'll notice.
With a last glance at the set table, Jess opened the door and strode over to the coach.
From up on the driver seat, Mose called, "All out, folks. We'll be changing teams here, so you can rest inside the house 'till we're ready to go."
There were only two passengers: an older and a younger lady. Jess helped both of them down. The older lady held on to his shoulders a bit longer than necessary, "Thank you, kind sir. Nice to have a young man so willing to help an old lady."
Uncertain how to respond, Jess just smiled and stated, "You're welcome ma'am."
Wondering if he'd set enough places at the table, he called over his shoulder, "You comin' in, Mose?"
"Daisy back yet?"
"Nope."
"Hmmm…think I'll just help Slim change the team." The thought of Jess's coffee didn't sit well with the old codger.
"Suit yourself. This way ladies." The younger woman walked ahead, but the older one hesitated until Jess offered her his arm which she readily took, giving a squeeze to his forearm, then shifting her hold up onto his bicep. Nice, she thought.
"I'm Mrs. Frasier, and that is my niece, Mary. We appreciate your hospitality." Once they entered the cabin, she scanned the set table. "Very nice, but could we have some cream and sugar for our coffee?"
"Oh, yes ma'am. Plum forgot. Be just a minute." Jess suddenly remembered he'd emptied the sugar bowl at breakfast and hadn't refilled it. Dadgum, if it ain't one thing it's another. Jess had to stretch to reach the sugar container on the highest shelf. Why didn't Slim bring this down this mornin', like he always does for Daisy. Unbeknownst to Jess, as he stretched, he pulled his shirt front partially out of his jeans.
While he was gone both Mrs. Frasier and Mary, having briefly tested the biscuits and exchanging knowing glances, put the hockey pucks back on the plate.
Returning to the table, Jess paid the most attention to the younger of the pair. "Miss Mary, would you care for a biscuit?"
"Hmm… no, thank you. I'm not very hungry." She averted her eyes from Jess.
Mrs. Frasier, however, had no problem looking at Jess. The corners of her mouth curved up in an appreciative smile, as she enjoyed the partial sight of Jess's chest and midsection revealed by his unbuttoned, and now gaping, shirt.
"The coffee's a bit strong. I'd like some cream, but my old hands aren't as steady as they once were. Could you possibly pour some for me young man?" asked Mrs. Frasier.
Jess, leaning over the table to do her bidding, afforded her an even better view of his exposed chest. He didn't notice the direction of her eyes, since he was preoccupied with why Mary was avoiding looking at him.
"Anything I can do for you?" Jess directed at Mary.
Giving forth a slight cough, Mary said, "No. I'm not very hungry or thirsty."
Mrs. Frasier, however, inserted, "I could do with a bit more cream, young man."
Jess, leaned across the table a second time, "Sure, ma'am."
Mrs. Frasier's eyes continued to be fastened not on her coffee cup, but on the exposed portion of Jess's torso. She openly smiled.
Mose stuck his head in through the doorway and called out, "Stage is ready. Time to go."
Mary arose, while Mrs. Frasier gave out a distinct sigh of sadness. "All good things must come to an end," she quietly murmured.
As Jess helped both ladies into the coach, a slight breeze played across his chest just as Mose made a 'gahoff' sound, ran his hand over his mouth and pointed down at Jess.
Jess looked down and saw his shirt half opened. Turning scarlet, he quickly tugged his shirt back into his jeans, and looked at the ladies ensconced in the couch, "My apologies, ma'am."
Mrs. Frasier, looked Jess up and down and exclaimed, "No need for apologies, young man. It has been an enjoyable, if too brief, a stay." Giving him a wicked smile, she added, "And the best view I've had of a man since my dear husband departed this earth. I truly thank you."
Jess's face grew an even deeper shade of red as the stage departed.
Slim, coming up from the barn caught the tail end of the encounter. He took note of Jess's red face and couldn't help but tease him. Grinning broadly, he asked, "What's the matter Pard? Thought you said your chest was nothing women hadn't seen before."
"Aw, Slim. Ya know I didn't mean them kind. Not the decent women."
Slim threw back his head and laughed. Jess maintained his flush, partially in embarrassment and partially in anger at Slim's laugh.
Looking at the retreating coach, Slim became more serious, "Mose told me all this rain we've been having has made for poor road conditions. He left Cheyenne early. Good thing he did since there was a major landslide just after he passed through the gulch several miles east of here. You know the one. Looks like we won't be having any stages through for the next few days. There's no way I can I get this letter, regarding times and schedules, to the Overland Office unless I take it myself to Cheyenne. Mose said he thought a rider should be able to get through. I have to try. Think you can take care of things while I'm away?"
"Course I can. Whatcha think?" Jess retorted with an irritated undertone.
"Mose also said he saw some of our fence down as he came in. We can go take care of that before I leave."
"Sure thing," replied Jess.
Together, they headed to the barn, saddled up their respective mounts and rode out.
Two hours later they returned to the homestead.
"That took longer than expected," stated Slim.
"Ground was mighty sloppy," added Jess.
"All the more reason for you to NOT have rolled around in it," Slim eyed his bedraggled and dirtier than usual partner, which was saying a lot.
"Tweren't my fault. Them ornery cattle don't respect a man or his pony." Jess looked down at his mud-caked shirt and chest. "Sure coulda used them extra buttons."
After taking care of their horses, they headed towards the house. Midway across the yard, Slim put his arm out and stopped Jess, "Hold it, Jess. You're not coming in until you've washed some of that mud off."
"Yeah, guess so, seein' how you'll be off to Cheyenne and I'll be the one havin' to clean up the place before Daisy gets back. Besides, I done mopped the kitchen floor this mornin'."
Jess had just taken off his shirt by the outside shower, when Slim's loud bellow of "JESS!" stopped him cold.
With gun in hand, Jess tore into the house. He found no intruder, just a furious Slim, holding up a dripping pink shirt over the wash tub on the stove.
"What in blue blaze did you do to my shirt?" Slim scowled at Jess.
Jess holstered his gun. Something about Slim holding up a pink shirt on the end of a long kitchen spoon, struck Jess as funny, "Ain't BLUE blazes, Pard. It's PINK," and he began to laugh.
"It's not funny, Jess. This is…was…my Sunday go to meetin' shirt." He flung the wet shirt at Jess causing some of Jess's caked mud to revert to just plain mud.
Trying to stifle his laughter, Jess said, "I'm sorry Slim. Really I am. Maybe it'll wash out white," but then the twinkle returned to his eye and he couldn't help adding, "Iffin it don't, you'll be a hit at the next Saturday night dance." Jess broke out in laughter again.
Slim stormed out of the kitchen.
Jess went over to the tub, stirred it, and pulled up Slim's recently purchased red long johns from the bottom. 'Spect you're the cause of all this grief. He was still smiling when he saw Daisy's newly "pinked" kitchen towel. At least you might like this, Miss Daisy; not like grumpy old Slim. Jess's smile faded, however, as he pulled out a shirt. His once blue shirt was now an oddly mottled violet with streaks of magenta. What the…. This aint good. Jess was almost a century ahead of the tie-dye craze.
Grabbing the tub he took it out to the pump. Some of the caked mud flaked off his bare chest and into the wash. That's all I need. He adjourned to the shower and quickly washed off before returning to the pump. Flushing the tub several times with water did not lessen the discolorations. Slim's gonna have my hide.
Still fuming, Slim emerged from the ranch house. He carried a bed roll and saddlebags. "I'm heading out for Cheyenne before I do or say something I'll regret later."
"You can count on me to take care of the place while you're gone," Jess offered up sincerely.
Slim glared from Jess to the wash and back again, "Yeah, you're already doing a bang up job." Mounting Alamo, Slim rode out.
CHAPTER 2
Jess plucked the least discolored of his shirts off the clothes line. He'd thoroughly rinsed the motley lot, and the arid Wyoming air had dried his shirts in less than an hour. At least dry enough for him to wear.
Ain't gonna be any stages through due to the weather and slide. Still have time to get to Laramie today. Might be able to pick up a new shirt for Slim. Know I need a few.
Figuring he could also pick up some supplies, he hitched up the buckboard.
Traveller looked over at Jess and whinnied.
Jess gave the horse a quick pat, "Sorry, boy. Ya don't get to go along this time."
It was slower going than he'd anticipated due to the muddy road. Ignoring some stares from town folk, he headed for the general store.
Marcy looked up from behind the counter to see who had entered the store. Recognizing Jess, she began to smile, but as he approached she did a second take and chuckled, "My, don't you look dashing today, Jess. Mail-order shirt from New York? Or maybe from New Orleans?"
"Give me a break. Weren't my idea, but this was the plainest I got."
Marcy studied him for a moment. "I remember Daisy picking up a new set of long johns for Slim. Let me guess. Somehow they made it into the general wash. I'm surprised. Daisy knows better."
Jess blushed slightly. Long johns ain't somethin' to discuss with a lady. But he did own up to being at fault. "Miss Daisy's stuck in Denver. Was me that done the wash."
Marcy was less than efficient at hiding a smirk. What you get for trying to do woman's work, Jess. You just aren't cut out for it.
"So what can I do for you, Jess?"
"Besides this list of supplies," he handed her a slip of paper, "I need a couple of work shirts for myself and one of them fancy white shirts for Slim. His kinda got colorized too," Jess gave her his crooked grin.
After looking over the list Marcy replied, "We can handle most of this, I think, but I'll have to check on the shirts."
"Why? You always keep a supply don't ya?"
She smiled, "With cowboys like you around, yes we try. But with the late snows south and west of us and flooding east a lot of merchandise is being held up." Or gobbled up by folks in Cheyenne. "Wait here a minute and let me check on those shirts."
She returned a few minutes later holding two blue and one white shirt. "You're in luck. These are the last two in your size. But this white one. It's the only one we have left and that's because it's the most expensive."
"How much?" questioned Jess.
After considering a moment, Marcy wrote a figure on a scrap of paper and handed it to Jess.
His eyes widened in shock, "Ya gotta be kiddin' me! Ain't no shirt worth that much. I could get ten of my shirts. Who the hel…heck…would pay that much?"
"Sorry, Jess, but it's very high quality, both in material and design, and it IS Slim's size. It was ordered by that wealthy gambler, but he never got to collect it."
"He the one that got shot dead 'cause he was caught cheatin'?"
"Yes, the very one."
"So when are ya expecting more in?"
"Can't say. Again, I apologize but it is this one or none."
After taking a moment to ponder how much he was willing to shell out to mollify this partner, he tried another tack. Lowering his head, and then looking up at Marcy through his long, thick eyelashes, Jess assumed his woman-winning smile, "Considerin' you've had it awhile, and considerin' it's me doin' the buyin' can't ya give it to me for less?"
She rolled her eyes, "Won't work on me, Jess. I know you too well."
Undeterred he shifted emphasis, "How about then doin' it for Slim. I know ya like him and he's done good by ya in the past."
Marcy sighed. "Yes I like Slim. I like you too, Jess, truth be told. But I can't afford to sell it for less. Particularly not now, when our business is so slow. Besides, my brother would kill me if I did."
Jess knew it was not Marcy's fault and relented. "Okay, you got me by the ba…back. Wrap it up and add it to the list. I'll be by later to pick it all up."
"I'll tie the shirts together with some twine; afraid we're currently out of bundling paper. Again it's the weather holding things up."
"Yeah, yeah, I hear ya."
Jess left the store and went over to the bank. He needed to withdraw funds from his meager savings to cover the cost of the shirts. The banker, although raising his eyebrows at the sight of Jess's shirt, was polite enough not to comment. Besides, he was aware of Harper's short fuse. Great guy to have on your side, but not good to get on his wrong side. If Jess want's to wear that kind of shirt, so be it.
After the bank, Jess headed over to the saloon for some liquid solace. He bellied up to the bar and asked for a beer.
"We're all out," replied the barkeep, quietly eyeing Jess's shirt.
"Ya gotta be kiddin' me. When have ya ever run outta beer?"
"Since that last trail herd went through and shipments have been delayed due to weather. We still have some whiskey, but it's far from the best."
"I'll take it. Leastwise it oughta be cheap."
"Yeah, it should be, but since it's all we've got, I have to charge the regular price, or I'll be runnin' out of it too."
Not only was Jess flabbergasted, he was also getting angry. What in tarnation is happenin' to this town. Can't get a beer or even decent whiskey.
Just then a cowboy down the bar took notice of Jess's unusual attire. "Well look at Jess will ya? That shirt sure is…"
Jess spun towards the cowhand and gave him an icy stare that could have stopped a rutting elk in its tracks, "Is just what."
The cowhand gulped convulsively, "It's…it's just fine." Quickly draining his glass, he hurried past Jess and out of the saloon nearly colliding with Mort Cory, the Sheriff of Laramie.
"Whoa now, son. What's your hurry?"
"Gotta get back to the ranch. Got work to do," the cowboy stammered.
The Sheriff looked after the receding figure and shook his head.
By this time Jess had grabbed the bottle of 'ratified whiskey' and retreated to a dark corner of the saloon.
Mort glanced around the bar, saw Jess and went over to the table. As he started to pull out a chair to sit, he paused and looked intently at Jess's shirt. "I'd say you're a sight for sore eyes, but that might be misspeaking. You sure are colorful."
"Don't start with me, Mort. I'm not in the mood."
"Simmer down. What seems to be the problem…besides the obvious."
"It's this durn weather and all. Has Miss Daisy trapped down in Denver. Slim's havin' to ride to Cheyenne since the stages aren't run, so I gotta do all the ranch work."
"I heard about the landslide. Too bad."
"Yeah, and to top it off, Laramie ain't doin' right by its customers at the general store or here neither."
Mort reached over, took hold of the bottle and gave it a sniff. "True enough. Better be careful, Jess. This stuff will sneak up on you."
"Don't go motherin' me. I'll damn well do as I like," Jess grabbed the bottle back, filled his glass to the brim and threw it back, giving forth a wheeze as the liquid left a fiery path down his throat.
"Well, I'll leave you to it. Just don't go riling things up. Wouldn't want to put you in jail, if you're the only one covering at the ranch."
Jess filled his glass again. Ain't nothin' I'd like more than a good fight right about now. He knew his chances were next to none since there was less than a handful of men in the saloon. And those present were studiously avoiding looking at Jess. His reputation was well known.
"I'll be good, Sheriff. Ain't nothin' else to do."
Mort rose, gave a wave to the bartender and went back to doing his rounds.
Jess, sat morosely staring into his glass which he continued to refill. Each time the whiskey seemed a bit less fiery. When he finally got up to leave, he wobbled a bit. He headed back to the general store, suddenly realizing it had gotten late. Jess had to knock several times on the locked door before Marcy appeared.
"About given you up, Jess. Figured you'd pick the supplies up tomorrow."
"Naw. Gotta get home tonight," Jess slurred.
Marcy wrinkled her nose at the fumes emanating from Jess. Sure know where you've been, cowboy. She motioned for him to come in and pointed over to the pile of supplies, all labeled with his name. "There you are."
"Thanks, Marcy. Much obliged." He handed her a wad of bills. After counting it, she returned a little bit of silver. "Hmm…maybe I can buy a new saddle with all this change."
She ignored his sarcasm. "Can I help you load up?"
"Naw, I got it," although he almost fell over as he reached down to pick up some of the supplies.
It was just starting to rain as he exited the store. Quickly throwing one load on, he made a few more trips. The shirt bundle was the last thing placed on the back of the wagon. He hastily threw up the tail gate and pulled from under the buckboard seat a tarpaulin. That oughta do, he thought as he briskly threw the tarp over the wagon contents, not bothering to tie the cover down securely.
Jess pulled himself ungracefully onto the seat of the buckboard regretting that he'd not thought to bring along his rain slicker. Dadgum this rain's cold. He flicked the reins hard to hurry the horse along. As they made their way home, thunder boomed and lightening lit up the darkened sky, making the gelding only too happy to respond to Jess's continued urging. The buckboard gathered even more speed careening through the increasingly muddy road. Potholes became more numerous and harder to detect as they, and the rain proceeded. The wagon lurched and – unbeknownst to Jess – a certain item bounced out of the wagon.
Finally reaching the relay station, a bedraggled and miserable Jess, steered the horse and wagon into the welcoming barn. He unhitched and toweled off the horse before giving the gelding some hay and water. After giving Hoot an affectionate pat, Jess drug himself off to bed, figuring he'd tend to the wagon and supplies in the morning.
Jess entered the house through the kitchen door. Still under the influence, he staggered into and upset the table. He was vaguely aware of a crashing sound, but with only the weak moonlight filtering through the windows he wasn't sure what might have broken. I'll clean it up tomorrow. Whatever IT is.
Ricocheting between walls and door frames, Jess made it into the bunkroom. He dropped, fully dressed, onto his bed and was gently snoring moments later.
CHAPTER 3
Sunlight streaming into the room finally aroused Jess. What the hell? I missed the morning stage. Sitting up sharply, he grabbed his head and fell back onto his pillow. Aw, what in blue blazes did I do last night? Giving himself a moment to collect his thoughts, he remembered his prolonged encounter with the cheap whiskey. He also remembered no stage would be coming through due to the slide.
Alright, not as bad as ya feared, Harper. Get yourself together – if this head'll stop splittin' open – and do the chores that needs be doin'. Sitting up a bit slower this time, he took inventory and realized he still had on his clothes from the day before. Well least they're clean since the rain washed 'em, even if the shirt's still a bit colorful, his lips turning into a half smile. Hell, maybe this'll start a new fashion for men. 'Harper shirts: for western men of taste.' Yeah, kinda like the ring of that.
His stomach roiled a bit, but he held down a breakfast of eggs and left-over hockey-puck biscuits. The rain had finally stopped sometime in the middle of the night.
Jess headed over to the barn. As he unloaded the buckboard, he realized one item was missing – the packet of shirts. Aw no, hell no. Recollecting the previous night's mad dash home with the wagon bucking over the rain-drenched rough road, Jess rubbed his hand over his face. Aw, it ain't fair. Just ain't fair. Maybe they bounced out close to the ranch. I'll have a look.
Suddenly remembering he hadn't feed Mike's squirrel, Jess headed back into the house through the kitchen. The light of day shining through the open door revealed some crockery pieces on the floor. Jess bent down and picked them up. No, no, no! Daisy's favorite mixing bowl. Ya sure gone and done it this time Harper.
Jess was preoccupied, worrying over Daisy's broken bowl. He opened the squirrel's cage with one hand while reaching over with his other hand to get the food jar. As he looked over towards the feed, the squirrel dashed down his arm, across to and out of the partially open window. Jess stared blankly at the window for several moments. I just ain't doin' right by anybody. Can't trust me with nothin'. What am I doin' here anyways?
The sound of hoofbeats brought Jess out of his reverie. He went out into the yard and was surprised to see Slim ride up.
"How'd ya get back from Cheyenne so fast?" Jess asked.
"Didn't have to go all the way. Met up with some of the stage line men working to clear the mudslide from the Cheyenne side. One of them was heading back to give a progress report, so he took my paperwork. Stayed overnight with them since it was too risky trying to get back over the slide in the dark. Didn't want Alamo stumbling and possibly breaking a leg. How'd things go while I was gone?"
"Oh, fine, just fine," fidgeting and experiencing a sudden and powerful urge to run away, Jess added, "But what with all this rain we've been havin', the north range may need some tendin' to. Was thinkin' I'd ride out and check on things. Might need to be gone a few days."
Slim detected Jess was agitated, but he wasn't sure of the cause. "Look, Jess, if you're upset about ruining my good shirt; it's no big deal. I wasn't happy about it back then, but I'm not mad at you. Things happen and not always as we intend." After looking Jess up and down and admiring his distinctly colored shirt, Slim added, "Besides, looks like you came out on the short end of the stick, too."
Jess ignored Slim's reference to his clothes. "Things just ain't been goin' right lately, Slim. I want some time away to think. Besides, the north range really oughta have a look see."
"Well, if you feel you need to, go ahead, Jess. I can hold things down. Roads are opening up. Daisy and Mike should be back soon."
"Ah, that's good. Okay, I'll just get my stuff."
Slim watched, slightly bemused, as Jess hurried over and into the ranch house. Seems something is really bothering my Pard. Maybe best if he does have a few days away from the ranch. He's been kinda cooped up here this winter.
Jess gathered up some food for the trail, as well as his bedroll, canteen, rain slicker and other necessities.
As his partner and best friend saddled up and headed north, Slim thought, Take your time Pard. We'll be here when you're ready to come home.
CHAPTER 4
It had been almost a week since Jess had ridden away from the ranch. He had indeed found some fence and other items requiring attention in the north range. But he had stretched out his days there. Having time to think, Jess realized no matter what he'd done, Slim would still be expecting him to come back. At least he hoped that was the case. And it was time. Time to face up to any consequences there might be. Over the years, Jess had become used to some form of punishment for any of his misdeeds, intentional or not. But coming from ones he cared deeply about? Slim might forgive him, but what about Daisy and Mike. It would be hard seeing disapproval in their eyes.
Jess paused at the overlook, as he often did since the first time he'd gazed down upon the homestead. House, barn, corrals. All as he'd first seen them, but so much more familiar and personal now. Home. That's the word that came unrequested into his mind. This was his home. Hopefully for some time to come if his unspoken wish were fulfilled.
He noted wash drying on the outside line. Hmm, guess Daisy made it home. There was that word again.
As he rode into the yard, a whirling dervish of a youngster exploded out of the house. "Jess! You're back. Finally. Where you been? I've missed you," Mike eagerly asked.
"Hey there, Tiger." Wanting to face up to his mistake, even before dismounting, Jess added, "Listen, Mike, I am so darn sorry about letting your squirrel go. Sure didn't mean for that to happen."
Mike gave Jess a puzzled look. "Huh? He's not gone. Slim said he found him out of his cage and in the food container. I think he over ate. Didn't quite act right for a few days."
Well I'll be. Dadgum squirrel musta come back on his own. Guess he found it's not so easy gettin' food on his own outside.
"I could always get another squirrel if Squirrely really wanted to leave. I'd never get mad at you, Jess. Not over something like that. I love you."
Little Mike sure has a big heart and he's pullin' on mine. Jess broke in to a big smile, swung out of his saddle, grabbed Mike up and swirled him around. "I missed you too, Tiger." He gave Mike a heartfelt hug. "How long you and Miss Daisy been back?"
"Been a few days now. Sure was a long time in Denver, bad weather and all. I didn't mind missing school, but sure missed seeing you and Slim."
Jess threw his head back with a full-throated laugh. "Yeah, know what ya mean, Mike."
Hearing Jess's familiar voice, Daisy emerged from the ranch house, wiping her hands on her apron. "Why Jess, about time you were home."
Jess let go of Mike and walked over to Daisy. Face the music, Harper. "Daisy, I'm so sorry for breaking your mixing bowl."
Daisy looked questioningly at Jess. "You mean the one that was cracked? I figured you threw it out since I told you I was buying a new one in Denver. Don't you remember? Even if it had been brand new, you don't really think I'd be upset, do you?"
"No, I didn't remember. Guess I oughta listen to ya better. And yeah, I thought you might be mad."
"Oh hush, Jess, you're a lot more important than some old piece of crockery."
Dadgum I love this lady. He picked her up and swung her around before replacing her on her feet. After giving her a peck on the cheek he asked, "Okay then, what's for supper?"
"Oh, you! Never a 'Hi, I missed you'."
"Okay, 'Hi, I missed you,' now what's for supper and more to the point how soon is supper?"
"Never you mind. I'll ring the triangle in plenty of time for you to wash up. In fact, after you see to Traveler, you could wash up a bit and help me by bringing in the wash."
"Yes, ma'am. At your service, ma'am." Jess made a deep bow, doffing his hat towards Daisy.
Daisy give him a dismissive wave of her hand as she went back into the ranch house.
"Can I help, Jess?"
"Sure, Tiger. Go get the clothes basket while I get Traveler settled. Meet ya at the wash line. Okay?
"I'll be there on the double," Mike threw over this shoulder as he raced back into the house.
Jess looked after him with love and just a touch of sadness and longing in his eyes. Wish he'd had an easier start to life. I swear I'll do my best to keep his future happy, no matter the cost.
As he took the wash off the line, Jess noted several of his blue shirts – and they were blue, not tie dyed – as well as a fancy white shirt. He took the basket full of clothes into the house. "Daisy, where'd all these shirts come from?"
"Hmm? Oh, Slim found a packet of shirts on the Laramie road. Had your name on it. They were a bit muddy so I washed them. Also found some very colorful shirts of Slim and yours. Used some bleach on Slim's shirt and strong sunlight on yours. They're not quite as original, but wearable I think."
Jess paused and glanced down at the shirt he was wearing. True enough, under the layer of trail dust, the shirt was now more of a faded blue with only a slight evidence of other colors. "Whata ya know. Hadn't noticed before, but guess being out in the sun helped this shirt, too."
Shortly thereafter, Daisy did ring the triangle. Slim had just ridden in and so joined Jess at the outside basin to wash up. "Oh, and Jess, thank you for buying that fancy shirt for me. Marcy told me it was way more expensive than I usually get. You really shouldn't have."
"Sure, I shoulda. You're worth it, Pard."
"And you're worth more to me then some expensive shirt. Why don't you return it and get your money back?"
"Not a chance, Slim. Besides, Daisy's already done washed it. And I promise I won't ever wash it," Jess grinned.
Smiling, Slim put his arm over Jess's shoulder, giving him a bit of a shake as they entered the house.
With the family gathered around the table, Jess gave a deep sigh of contentment. My family. My home.
He looked in turn and contemplated each of his loved ones. Slim, that tall drink of water who's always got my back. And Mike, that little rascal so full of love.
His eyes finally landed on Daisy, as his mind drifted back to recent events. Now if I can only get Daisy back ta doin' the mendin'.
EPILOGUE
Daisy did indeed recommence to sewing on buttons much to the disappointment of Mrs. Frasier on her return trip through the Sherman Relay Station.
The End
December 2018