Just Walk Away
The buckboard rolled at a gentle pace on the road to Laramie on a beautiful Saturday afternoon. Daisy Cooper and Mike Williams sat on the bouncing seat, smiles aglow on faces that matched the splendor of the sunshine and dotted clouds in the sky. On two horses that trotted just behind the buckboard, Slim Sherman and Jess Harper talked casually of everything they needed in town.
"You should get yourself a new shirt, Jess," Daisy called from her seat. "I've sewn so many holes in the one you're wearing that I'm not sure how much more of it I can patch together."
"It's not worn out yet, Daisy," Jess complained while tugging at the light blue collar at his neck. "Besides, Hard Rock here ain't paying me enough to buy new shirts every time I put a hole in one."
"I wish I wasn't wearin' this one," Mike began to squirm in his seat. "I'd rather be in a holey one like Jess."
"Now you know you have to wear a nice shirt to your friend's birthday party," Daisy shook her head. "How would it look if you were the only little boy there with a dirty shirt?"
"Prob'ly like Jess looks right now compared to Slim!"
"Hey!" Jess said playfully. "I don't gotta wear a nice shirt to look good."
Everyone started to laugh and they soon turned the corner into Laramie. Sheriff Mort Cory was the first friendly face that they saw, and they returned his wave as they passed by. Daisy stopped the buckboard across from the hotel, and Jess dismounted, tying his horse to the nearest hitching rail.
"I hope you have a good time at the party," Jess rumpled Mike's hair.
"You bet! They're gonna have cake, pie, candied apples and everything," Mike said excitedly. "I think I'll try it all."
"Just make sure you don't give yourself a bellyache or a case of disorderly manners with all that sugar in you," Slim cautioned. "You and Daisy are staying the night in the hotel, so you need to be on your best behavior."
"Oh, I will, Slim," Mike shuffled his feet. "Aunt Daisy already told me I gotta be good. Kinda takes the fun outta stayin' the night in town."
"You'll have plenty of fun at your party that you won't need to have fun at the hotel, too," Daisy said. Since the party wasn't going to be over until evening, it had been her idea that she and Mike stay over while Slim and Jess went back home.
"I'll take the buckboard on over to the livery, Daisy," Slim tied his horse to the back and hopped into the seat. "Then I'll order the supplies we need. Where'll you be, Jess?"
"Just around, I reckon," Jess shrugged.
"Well, stay out of trouble." How appropriate Slim's advice was, but unfortunately, would go ignored. He clicked his tongue to the horses and they were soon rolling down the street to the livery stable.
"Mike, we best get on over to the hotel to register," Daisy helped Mike gather his things. "Then it'll be about time to get you to that birthday party."
"Bye Jess," Mike waved as they began up the walk.
As Jess stood in the street watching Daisy and Mike go into the hotel, he suddenly had a strange feeling that someone was watching him. He turned to look all around, but could see no eyes set solely upon him. Keeping his hand close to his gun, Jess began to walk up the street to see if his senses picked up on anyone following him. He didn't get far before a voice from an alley started calling his name.
"Come here, Jess Harper," the voice was familiar, but couldn't be immediately placed.
Unafraid, Jess drew his gun and walked into the alley. No one was in sight. He kept slowly walking, with each step his eyes darting back and forth searching for the one who had spoke. The back of the saloon was to his right, whoever it was must be hiding there. Jess kept his gun poised and his hand ready to react if he needed to pull the trigger then he took the final step that would put the mysterious speaker in sight.
"Don't move," Jess commanded when he saw the figure braced against the saloon.
"You wouldn't shoot me, Jess," the man held his hands out away from his body, but he was too deep in the shadows to see a face.
"Don't bet on that," Jess let his mind run rapidly trying to find in his memory where that voice belonged.
"You still speak with grit," the voice started again. "I found that most annoying at times."
"Who are you?" Jess demanded. "Come out into the light, where I can see you."
He saw the scar first. It stretched from below the right eye, all the way down to his jaw, with a zigzag right in the middle. Jess knew it well, since he was the one who gave it to the man.
"Hugh McSpaddon," Jess shook his head in disbelief. "You should've been the leading man at a necktie party long ago."
"That's why I never get caught," was the terse reply. "But I go by Mix now, haven't used McSpaddon in years. I thought it sounded more professional, considering my business."
"Murderer shouldn't be printed on business cards," Jess scowled. "And whatever else you may have hanging over you."
"You do know me well, don't you Harper?"
"I did once," Jess answered steely. "Don't care to anymore."
"Well, I think you will."
"What makes you say that?"
"I have a proposition for you," Mix rubbed his scar with the back of his hand. "After all, I think you owe me a little something."
"I owe you nothing but a slow walk to the sheriff's office."
"Now why would you do that, since all I have to do is wave my hand and your buddy Sherman gets carted off to the cemetery?"
Jess often chided himself for letting his explosive anger get out of control at the wrong moment, now was no different. He lunged for Mix and shoved him against the back of the saloon with enough force that the boards shook. His eyes so bright with rage, Jess failed to see the movements closing in behind him.
"No one threatens Slim!"
With the time it took for Jess to draw a breath to say more, a gun was pressed into his neck while two more jabbed him in the back. Jess immediately released Mix, while the man to his right promptly removed the revolver from his hand.
"You must eat gravel every morning for breakfast," Mix rubbed his neck where Jess had gripped him.
"I put it in my coffee." Jess quipped.
"Funny," Mix faked a laugh then turned to his gang. "Gents, this is Jess Harper. We had a run in some years back. He's the one who decorated my face."
Jess set the picture in his mind of how it happened. He had just finished working on a cattle drive in Kansas during his drifting days, while Hugh McSpaddon was being chased by a posse. Unknown to Jess that McSpaddon was wanted for murder, they rode a few days together heading for Wichita. The day they would part, Jess caught the man stealing the money he'd earned on the drive, and being the young ruffian he was, turned McSpaddon inside out. It was a forceful punch to the jaw that had sent Mix falling, but a stake driven into the ground to secure the horses met his face with gruesome punctuation. If Jess had known then that McSpaddon had been wanted for more than just attempted robbery, he'd have given him more than an ugly scar.
"I don't hate it too much, Harper," Mix shrugged. "I get a lot of respect because of it. Anyway, allow me to introduce my cohorts."
"Pollack." Jess had to look way up, as his head only came to the man's chest. He wore no hat on his shiny bald head and his glaring eyes looked down over a nose that once had been broken. His sleeves were rolled up to reveal muscles on his arms all the way down to his giant hands that probably could snap a tree trunk like a twig. He most certainly could have taken out the crooked prizefighter, Terrible Terry Mulligan, in a single punch. No one he wanted to be in a dark alley with, yet there he was.
"Humphrey." This man was less intimidating. He stood about the same height as Jess. His eyes were partly covered by sandy hair and when he opened his mouth, only a couple of teeth on the far side of his mouth showed.
"Coffin." The man had an eerie name and a face that matched. His eyes were so dark in a face that should have been tanned brown, but was a pale, sickly white. His black mustache was like a dirt smudge over his lip.
"He likes to put people in them," Mix explained the name as Jess shook his head a moment later, not realizing how long he'd been staring at Coffin.
"What do you want with me?"
"I knew you'd get around to asking me that," Mix clapped his hands together. "We're going to rob a bank up north near the Montana border. I hear there's a rancher up there that's just about ready to put his yearly load in the bank. I want it. And I'm going to let you help."
"I only have one thing to say to that," Jess growled out his words. "Go to blazes."
"Oh, you'll help me all right," Mix sneered. "Remember what I said about Sherman? Both Humphrey and Coffin have a perfect aim with their rifles. You don't go with us, your buddy dies."
"Why me?"
"We had another member, not as big on the wanted list as us," Mix told the story. "But Ned got himself expired last week near Cheyenne. While we were mourning him…"
"I'll just bet you cried and cried," Jess interrupted sarcastically.
"You're rude," Mix pointed at Jess, "good quality. As I was saying, doing our condolences over some beers, I found a newspaper telling all about the illustrious Jess Harper and how he saved the day here in Laramie while the sheriff was out sick. Now I thought to myself, Jess owes me for this wild facial expression, let's look him up."
Jess wanted to go give the newspaper man a piece of his mind. Why did they have to write about him anyway? He was just doing his duty. Other people do good things, but do they get their names in the paper for outlaws to read?
"I've let Coffin do some snooping on you for the last four days. You have all the qualities I need." Mix ticked them off on his fingers. "Honesty. Loyalty. Stubbornness. Meanness."
"Obviously intelligence ain't part of the list," Jess degraded himself. "Otherwise I wouldn't be out here jawing with the likes of you."
"Don't you just like his attitude, boys?" Mix asked his partners then turned back to Jess. "So here it is plain. You go with us, help me get my hands on the money, if not, I start killing. One by one you'll lose your loved ones. Who do you think should be first? Test me once and you'll find out. Maybe it won't be your buddy. The boy? What about the old woman? Your conscious tickling you yet?"
"If you hurt any of them," Jess got so close to Mix that the little twitching under Mix's left eye was clearly seen, "I will see that you suffer a slow, wicked death."
"That must mean you're interested," Mix smiled, that scar of his twisting with his grin. "Good. But don't take too long deciding. Coffin, get ready on my command."
The man meant it, every word. He'd not care if the one's he left dead were a compassionate woman and a playful young boy.
"I'll do what you say," Jess conceded, "just leave them alone."
"Now you're talking! Pollack, help him get his horse and we'll be on our way."
"Wait, I can't just walk away like this," Jess protested then added quickly when Coffin clutched his rifle. "What I mean is, Slim will follow me if I just take off, the sheriff too. If I'm gonna start leading a life of crime, I've gotta make it clean. I have to cut my ties, right?"
"Then sever them good, Jess," Mix commanded. "While you're saying farewell, just know that the woman and boy will never be out of Coffin's sight. I know they're staying in town. If I smell a double cross even from miles away, I'll let Coffin seal their fate. Got it?"
Jess nodded. It was all too clear. He was being forced to stomp on Slim's face and act like he didn't care. But what other choice did he have? His life for theirs. Simple deduction. All he had to do now was let Slim know he was heading home. After that, well, it would be proven if Jess Harper still knew how to be rotten.
ooo
Jess sat at the table, his left hand clutching a bottle of whiskey, while his right fingered a small knot hole in the wood at the place where he sat. Knowledge of what he was about to do gave him a nervous tension that he was unfamiliar with. The scene he created if the walls and furnishings had eyes would know that what he was experiencing was agony, as he prepared to hurt his friend. They would see how it tormented him, and how he didn't want to do it. And if only later, these same things viewing Jess now, would later be able to tell Slim.
Jess turned towards the door at the sound. He was coming. The hoof beats were clear now. There was no more time to second guess or change his mind. Jess took a swig of whiskey, grimacing as it burned all the way down. He waited the exact minutes that it took for Slim to put his horse up and walk to the house. With one more swift swallow, Jess stood as the door swung open.
"Well, well," Jess faked a slight drunken slur to his voice. "If it ain't my old, trustworthy partner and boss. Sure was hopin' you'd stay out all night."
"What's the matter with you?" Slim stared in dismay at Jess. "Did you get kicked in the head by a horse or something?"
"Nope," Jess put the bottle to his lips, but only pretended to swallow.
"Are you sick?"
"Yeah," Jess smiled. "Sick of you."
The reaction from Slim was first of shock, then anger, but mercy for his friend, who was obviously troubled by something, won over the first two emotions.
"Sit down, Jess," Slim reached for his friend. "Whatever it is, we can work this out."
"Keep your hands off me, Slim!" Jess stepped back. "I don't want to work this out, not this time."
"Why? What is it?"
"You're not a gunfighter, you're a rancher, you wouldn't understand."
"Try me," Slim reached for Jess again, he had to do something to calm him.
Jess pulled his gun and shot the floor mere inches in front of Slim's left foot.
"I said," Jess voiced with as much tenacity as he could muster, "keep your hands off of me."
"Have you gone loco?" Slim was trying his hardest to keep his temper from rising, but the hole in the floor and the gunshot that he could still hear ringing in his ears was making it hard to stop. "Put that gun away!"
"No!" Jess said in defiance and then raised the bottle to his mouth.
"And get rid of that bottle!"
"Oh?" Jess almost laughed. "Does it bother you?"
In one quick motion, Jess threw the whiskey bottle straight into the burning fire. The bottle exploded on impact, sending embers and shards of glass raining through the room. The blaze ignited in both men's eyes, and they stared at each other for several grueling seconds.
"I'm leaving, Slim," Jess broke the silence, if one could call the roaring flames in the fireplace, the hard breathing by the two men, and the inner screams of each soul, silence. "I've got an offer for my gun. I haven't thought about those days in a while, but they've never left me. This man that you're lookin' at right now is the real Jess Harper, the one with the gun that everyone fears, and you better fear me, too. I've played the role of a rancher like you for too long. I'm sick to death of it. I didn't realize how much until I got the letter this afternoon. I have my ticket out, and I'm taking it!"
"You can't be serious!" Slim exploded like the whiskey bottle in the fireplace.
"I'm dead serious."
"What would Daisy or even Mike say if they saw you right now?" Slim was hoping their names would snap this crazy man back to reality.
"I don't care," Jess shrugged. "I'm getting pretty tired of that old hen and that nagging boy running after me, anyhow."
"Bite your tongue, Jess!" Slim's anger flashed from his eyes so bright that Jess almost gasped. The man was taking on his own reflection. "I ought to slap that devilish look off your face!"
"I'd just like to see you try," Jess raised his gun so the barrel pointed at Slim's chest, desperately pleading inside his head that Slim would not challenge him further.
Slim stared long and hard at the gun, the steady finger on the trigger, and finally the man behind the gun. This was not Jess, he said to himself. But it was.
"I'm goin', Slim," Jess swallowed hard to keep the real, although wrong for the moment, emotions from making him slip up. He kept the gun still pointed, but his feet were moving towards the door.
"Then go," Slim said abruptly. "Just walk away."
Jess walked out the door, holstered his gun and began to walk. Glad that his back was now to Slim, the hardened features of his face began to soften. Jess heard every word that Slim was saying all too clearly, and it spoke volumes from his eyes, the hurt, and the remorse.
"Jess! How can you just walk away like that? How can you throw away four years of friendship like you threw that bottle into the fireplace? Apparently it doesn't bother you! What will I tell Daisy and Mike?"
There really weren't that many steps between the house and the barn, but while Slim shouted his fury while Jess walked, it seemed as if the distance that spanned the two were closer to a mile. Traveler saddled and ready to go, Jess led him out of the barn and towards the house.
"You've walked away before, Jess Harper, but you've always come back. But if you walk away right now and leave, don't you bother to ever come back!"
No bullet hole, knife wound, concussion, or any severe fist pounding had ever hurt Jess as much as the words that came from Slim's mouth had. From the top of his head, to the tips of his boots, and especially surrounding his core where his heart beat wildly out of control, a pain so intense tore through him it almost knocked him over.
Standing still for a moment, he couldn't turn to look at Slim. He knew if he did, Slim would be able to see through him. No longer was his face set in stone or his eyes flashing bullets. He was turning weak. And that could mean death for all of them. It had to be this way. He had to go.
His foot was in the stirrup and his backside planted in the saddle before his resolve crumbled. He motioned his horse to move and in the dim light flickering from the lantern by the front door, Jess' keen eye caught the shine of a rifle barrel. He'd been watched the entire time. If he'd as much as let on to Slim as to the truth, one of those mangy coyotes would have shot Slim dead. He kept Traveler going forward, watching out of the corner of his eye as the man holding the rifle tucked farther in the brush.
"Fine!" One more retort from Slim. "Don't come back! We'll be better off without you!"
A man as tough as Jess Harper didn't shed tears, but if there was ever a time he came close to admission of them, it was then. He sniffed and kept going. There really was now no turning back. It was better this way, he decided. After all, when these lowlife's were done with him, they'd kill him anyway. Better for him to be the one buried, and not Slim, Daisy or Mike.
Once out of sight of the house, Jess led his horse in a swifter trot towards Laramie. About a mile down the road, Humphrey, the one who had kept his rifle pointed at Slim joined him on the trail.
"You did real well, back there," his smile was sickening, and not just from the lack of teeth. "I thought you were quite convincing. Maybe you weren't pretending after all, huh?"
"There's no rule that I gotta talk to you," Jess barked, urging his horse faster. "And I ain't gotta listen, either."
ooo
Slim stood alone in the darkness for nearly thirty minutes, just staring at the last place where he'd seen Jess. At the time, he didn't realize he was waiting, or perhaps it was best defined as hoping, that Jess would come trotting back in and apologize. But the place remained empty, and he finally turned back into the house.
He sat in a chair, rubbing his foot repeatedly over the hole in the floor created by the bullet from the gun Jess had fired, at him. Yes, he purposely missed, but it still hurt as if the lead had pierced him anyhow. No matter how hard he tried to rub it away, neither the hole in the floor nor the hole in his heart would go away. Jess was gone. He told him to never come back. And he let him go.
"I let him go!" Slim suddenly leapt from his chair and kicked it wildly across the floor. It landed in three pieces against the door of their bedroom. Their bedroom. Or now, just his.
Slim walked into the room they had shared and sat down on his bed. The one next to his was empty, the blankets folded neatly almost spoke a finality to the departure, for the bed Jess used was rarely in such immaculate condition, even with Daisy tucking the bedding in each day.
The quietness in the room seemed to press down hard on his chest, making his breathing quicker than it should have been. Slim sighed and lay down, fully clothed, even his boots remained on. His mind was still fighting, although instead of with Jess, this time, he was arguing with himself. He put his hands over his face, but it would be no use. No matter how hard he shut his eyes, there'd be no sleep for Slim.
ooo
Jess stood near Pollack and Mix, partially hidden behind a stack of crates in an alley, his eyes fixed entirely on Daisy and Mike as they climbed aboard the buckboard just after sunrise. There was another set of eyes set on the pair as well, Coffin's, although this man held a concealed gun that Jess knew would fire if he did so much as call out to them, or to Mort, or to anyone who might be close enough to hear. As soon as Daisy and Mike were clear, he could breathe again.
"Let's go, Mike," Daisy's voice carried cheerfully across the street and into Jess' ears. "Slim and Jess will be waiting for us at home."
There just might have been a knife sticking into his gut, as Jess looked down he almost visualized it being there, for the twisting he felt in his stomach was so real. He was watching Daisy and Mike for perhaps the final time, and he couldn't even say, "Goodbye." All too soon, the buckboard disappeared from his sight, and the man that had kept a gun pointed in Daisy and Mike's direction, sauntered over to where the rest of the gang waited.
"Well," Mix poked Jess in his ribs rather hard with his rifle. "I guess you're strings are all untied. Let's get going."
"I have one more thing to do," Jess walked to where he'd left his mount. This was another hard task. He wouldn't be taking Traveler on this journey.
"You'll be better off with Slim," Jess said quietly in his horse's ear and then he untied the rope that had secured his trustworthy friend to a tree. He led Traveler away from the remaining string of horses and gazed longingly at the road that would lead back to the Sherman ranch.
"Go home, Boy," Jess slapped his horse gently, but firmly enough to get him going. He'd go back to the ranch, Jess knew that for certain. And there, Slim although still mad, would take care of him.
"Now, can we get going?" Mix said with an irritating tone. "Since you set loose your broomtail, take Ned's mare. He won't need her anymore, since he got careless and landed on Boot Hill."
Jess mounted up, and surrounded by four corrupt men, the chestnut mare's hooves pounded the dirt covered roadway to the north, with each step of her seasoned legs taking him farther away from the home he loved.
ooo
Slim stood still, watching the first stage of the morning roll away. With every turn of the wheel and with every charging movement of the team of horses taking it farther away from his view, Slim was acutely aware that it was the same for Jess, wherever he was. But he was getting farther away, one angry step at a time. He was still standing around, not doing his normal routine a short time later when the buckboard carrying Daisy and Mike wheeled to a stop in front of the house.
"Hi, Slim!" Mike leapt off the seat in a frenzy and ran towards Slim. "Where's Jess? I bet he's in the barn!"
Without waiting for an answer, Mike hurried towards the barn, but Slim knew he'd not find the one he was seeking. Slim heard Daisy clear her throat and it snapped him to enough attention to give her a hand out of the buckboard.
"Aren't you feeling well, Slim?" Daisy asked in her usual motherly manner. "I declare, you work so hard, you never get enough rest. Did you and Jess get breakfast? I'm sure you didn't, so I'll get something whipped up in no time."
There were no words forming on Slim's tongue. He just couldn't bring himself to tell her that Jess was gone. Even though she'd know soon enough, it was just beyond his abilities at that moment to say anything. He stepped out of her way and watched her as she walked into the house smiling. But the image Daisy viewed as soon as she stepped inside sent her smile quickly away.
"Slim!"
The shout was justified, he knew, as Slim ran for the house. Of course he'd forgotten to clean up the mess from the night. He'd barely been able to pull himself out of his bunk to tend to the stage and had never considered picking up the broken chair or cleaning up around the fireplace from the exploded whiskey bottle.
"What on Earth happened in here?" Daisy stood with her hands on her hips as she stared at her usually pristine room. "Whatever were you and Jess doing?"
"It's, well, we a, it's kinda," Slim stammered. Not usual for him.
"What is it, Slim?" Daisy's agitation soon turned to alarm.
"Jess and I sort of had a falling out."
"Well," Daisy shook her head. "It must have been a good one. But I'm sure all's well this morning. You two never seem to stay mad at each other long."
"You don't understand, Daisy. This time it's different."
"You two have had fights before and settled it out quickly, what's different now?"
He had to say it. He couldn't hold back the truth. He would tell her three simple words, but he'd never had such a hard time voicing them, one would think he was trying to say rural squirrel quickly and correctly.
"Jess is gone."
"What?" This, from Mike who had come into the front door at the wrong time. "Jess is gone? Why?"
"Slim," Daisy's voice was shaking and she put her hand to her throat willing it to not quaver. "Please explain."
"I wish I could, really, Daisy," Slim began and wrapped his arms around Mike who had pressed hard into his side. "We argued. Big time. But, uh, he wanted to leave, and I told him to go."
"He's coming back, ain't he?" Mike asked, tears blurring his eyes. "Slim?"
"I wish I could tell you what you want to hear, Tiger," Slim wiped the moisture from the boy's cheeks. "But no. I'm afraid he's not."
"Slim Sherman," Daisy took on the tone that always made the boys jump to attention. "Don't you talk such nonsense. You know very well that whatever fight you two had isn't the end of your friendship."
"Daisy," Slim shook his head. "You weren't here to witness it. We said…"
"I don't care what you said. I'm sure neither of you meant it, either. I declare, you two are just stubborn, hard headed mules sometimes. Now, you're going to get some food into you, and you're going to get on your horse and you are going to go out and find Jess and apologize."
"But Daisy…"
"No buts about it, Slim."
"Hey, Slim, look!" Mike ran to the door. "It's Jess' horse! But he's not riding him."
Slim walked swiftly to the anxious Traveler. There was nothing wrong with him, other than he'd been running for a while. Everything looked normal, except the rifle wasn't in its place. Why would Jess let his faithful mount go?
"Maybe Jess got throwed," Mike suggested.
"Probably not." Slim shook his head.
"Aunt Daisy's right, Slim." Mike began to push Slim towards the barn. "You better go look for Jess. What if he's hurt or somethin'? Somethin' real bad."
"Jess can take care of himself."
"But, but Slim," Mike couldn't stop himself from crying. "You always said that we'd all stick together, through anything. Didn't you mean it?"
Had he meant it? Those words he threw at Jess as he walked away, did he really mean them? Or were they just words, spoken in the heat of the moment? What were the other words he'd said in the past to Jess?
"I've always got your back, Jess."
"You're the best friend I've ever had."
"You're more like a brother than a friend."
"You're a Hot Shot, but I wouldn't have you any other way."
"This is my land, Jess, but it's also yours. It's just as part of you as it is me."
"If you walk away and leave, don't you ever come back."
These declarations worked through Slim's mind. And when the last one pushed angrily through the others, he knew immediately which statement should be discarded. He hadn't meant what he said last night. But his heart had meant every other. But what if it was too late to tell Jess that now?
"Go get my horse, Tiger," Slim tried to smile. "I'll go searching."
For hours Slim rode in search of a trail. The road to Laramie was too well traveled to pick out any one set of tracks, though he did think it odd that at one point a horse had come off the hill near the house onto the road. But anyone could have taken a short cut so he dismissed it quickly.
In Laramie Slim asked every person he could find if they'd seen Jess, but no one had. He'd quizzed the man at the post office about a supposed letter for Jess, but either he couldn't remember one, or one wasn't really delivered, because the man acted as dumbfounded as Slim felt. However, as Slim had debated with himself, a letter like that one, if it existed, probably wouldn't have been delivered in the proper postal service manner anyhow.
The hours that had begun Slim's search turned into days. For seven days, once the final stage in late afternoon rolled out, he'd saddle up and go, riding for miles and miles until dark. But everyday turned into the same, Jess was nowhere to be found. He'd left no trail, no tracks, no signs, or any indication of where he was going. It was as if he just disappeared.
The following day, he went in the barn to get his horse, but he couldn't put the saddle in place. It had become too difficult to keep searching, finding nothing. He stepped from the barn and sat on the porch letting the time slowly trickle by until the sun became a slit in the west. Another day gone by, and another day without Jess.
"I don't know where you are, Pard," Slim spoke aloud as he watched the sunset. "But wherever you are and whatever you're doing I hope you're thinking of home."
ooo
Jess felt his body slam against the side of the livery wall. He braced for the blow as Pollack shoved his fist into his belly, but he couldn't stop himself from groaning. The next crack was across his face, breaking skin beneath his cheek bone. Two more swipes at his jaw and Jess was on his knees.
"That's enough," Mix commanded. "I think he's had enough."
"Just as long as he's got the message," Pollack rubbed his knuckles, ready to start pounding again on Harper if the boss gave the approval.
"I'm sure he's thinking on it right now," Humphrey smiled, his lack of teeth showing.
"You don't want, to know, what I'm, thinking, right now," Jess heaved heavily between his words as he wiped the blood from his face. Strangely enough, right behind the thought of how he wished he had been the one pounding Pollack into the ground, he was thinking of Slim and home. Was Daisy making dinner at that moment? He was sure he could smell bread baking.
"We have a big day coming," Mix held his hands out like he was measuring the span of how big it really was going to be. "I have to make sure you're still going to do your part."
Despite the throbbing in his middle and the stinging of his face, Jess pulled himself to his feet. "I'll do my part all right."
"Good," Mix nodded. "Now, let's get something to eat and we'll go over our plans."
The spindly town they were camped outside of didn't boast a sheriff's office, only two saloons, the livery, a post office and a half standing boarding house. They felt safe in such a town, since their faces that had been on wanted posters for years didn't mean much to the saloon keeper, barroom brawlers and drunkards, or to the teenage kid that plopped the food down in front of them a few minutes after they all were seated in the back of the Rough Rat Saloon.
If he hadn't been bruised and bleeding, Jess might have smiled, for sure enough, there in front of him was a slice of fresh baked bread. He hadn't been mistaken when he smelled it when Pollack was stomping on him over in the livery stable. Yet it was nothing like Daisy's bread, this one he now ate had such a hard crust that he probably could have struck a match on it.
After they returned to their campsite, Jess tuned out Mix as best as he could when he started talking about the robbery. From what he gathered, they were about ten miles from the town they were hitting. They'd travel that distance in the morning, rest up all afternoon, and then attack at dawn the next day.
Jess would have given anything for that next day to not come, but as it always did, the sun rose and set again, and the robbery was only hours away. They had set up camp a short distance from town, a town that had no idea what was about to happen.
Mix had been watching Jess closely. He wasn't a seasoned outlaw like the rest of them. He was too honest, too good to be trusted. He had held him in the palm of his hands when he threatened the boss man, woman and boy, but now that it was only his life on the line, Mix was concerned that Jess wouldn't do his part, no matter what he said after Pollack had worked him over. If only he could know what was really on Harper's mind.
"You don't need Pollack to bend your rib cage again, do you?" Mix stood close to Jess, trying to read his expression. "I don't want you backing out."
"I've seen his fists enough," Jess frowned. "I still have the imprints in my face."
Pollack laughed and Humphrey was making a noise that almost sounded like a whistle, but without his teeth, it came out more like a hiss.
"I'm glad you think that way," Mix nodded, hoping he would start feeling more satisfied. Maybe one more threat would do the trick. "Besides, you don't need Pollack reminding you of your duties, since all I have to do is remind you that I know where your friends live. I can still drop in anytime."
"I'll repeat what I said before," Jess said through gritted teeth. "I'll do what you say, just leave them alone."
"Oh, we will," Mix turned his head to look at the rest of the gang. "Isn't that right, boys?"
"Sure, Mix," Pollack said "Harper has no worries if he behaves. Otherwise, well, Jess knows the answer to that."
"Oh yes. I almost forgot. There's one more thing you have to do, Harper," Mix smiled at Jess, making the scar look squigglier than it was. "Get a new name."
"Get a what?"
"You heard me," Mix replied with a snort. "Get an outlaw name, unless you want your real name sullied."
It had been tarnished before, that he knew, but Jess didn't argue, there was no point. He mulled some names he'd thrown out years ago in his head, but they didn't work. His mind kept rolling Slim's name around, and since he remembered an outlaw he'd shared a jail cell with back in Texas with the same name, he picked it for the first. The last however, he chose for Daisy. At least if he did end up with a tombstone when this was all through, two honored names in his life would be carved on it.
"Slim Cooper."
Three men laughed slightly, but Coffin groaned, speaking one of his rare statements, "that's no outlaw name."
Jess squinted his eyes at the emotionless face of Coffin and said slyly, "it's better than Coffin."
Coffin stood up angrily, but Mix put his hand on Coffin's chest to stop him from challenging Jess. He reseated, but kept his face stone still while he stared at Jess.
"Best get some shut eye," Mix said a few minutes later. "Pollack, you take the first watch, and watch little Slim here carefully."
"Will do, Mix," Pollack checked the gun at his side and then went to stand by the horses. As he walked by Jess, he gave his leg a rough kick, just to remind him he was watching.
For several hours, Jess lay on the ground unsleeping. His right hand was constantly flexing open and closed as he contemplated perhaps his last few hours of life. His greatest regret is what he'd done to Slim. If Mix gave the order to have him killed, which was likely, Slim would never know what had happened and why.
How many times he'd turned it over in his mind if he'd done the right thing or not, Jess couldn't count, but he just kept telling himself that if they'd killed Slim, or Daisy or Mike, or even had harmed them in any way, he would never have forgiven himself for letting it happen. Being shot by Pollack or one of the others in a few hours would be better than what might have been the alternative.
Jess stilled himself and closed his eyes as Pollack walked near. Now wouldn't be a good time to show this no good that he was awake. Pollack might think he was planning an escape. There had been a few ideas on that subject in his mind the last ten days, although none of them good. It would be impossible to get away from all four of them since he had no bullets in his guns. His empty weapons were just for show, as Mix had stated, in case they were spotted by anyone on the trail.
His only hope, he had figured, was that if the whole attempted robbery would fail, maybe he could come out alive. But knowing Hugh McSpaddon, the mighty Mix, like he did, and watching the heavyweight Pollack, sinister Humphrey and that eerie Coffin fellow for a while, he knew they were experts in their outlaw profession. They wouldn't be making any mistakes. But would he?
ooo
The light in the far eastern sky was enough to rouse everyone in camp. Jerky was passed, but Jess declined, he couldn't eat with the others or even force down a swallow of coffee on this morning of fate.
"Mount up!" Mix shouted all too soon. "Let's go take us a bank."
Four out of five men cheered. Pollack stood too close to Jess as he hurrahed, giving Jess the overwhelming desire to punch him in the gut, but knowing that it would be futile, he climbed on his horse instead.
Coffin rode beside Jess as they were the first to enter town. Coffin was only there to make sure Jess did his part. He was tempted to blow everything up in their faces right here and now, but even at this early hour, the street was active, including some women and children. He shook his head no; the gunplay could get too many innocents killed.
Jess saw the sign for the sheriff's office and dismounted. He felt more than he saw the steely eyes of Coffin bearing into him. He only gave him a half glance as he rapped on the door to alert the sheriff.
"Something I can do for you?" It was a deputy. No one else in sight.
"Uh, yeah," Jess cleared his throat and pointed towards the south. "My name's Slim Cooper, I just came up from the river, and there's a family down there with a wagon, they said they'd been robbed. I stopped to help them, but I was told they didn't trust me, considering I'm a stranger here, and just told me to go get the sheriff."
"Well he's out of town, but I'll head out right away," the deputy hurried past Jess. "Thanks mister."
That part was done. Now there wasn't any law in town. By the time the deputy figured out he'd been sent on a ruse, the robbery would be done. And the only face the deputy would remember would be his, and of course, the phony name.
Coffin grunted, his way of showing his impatience that Jess was taking too long. Jess didn't comment as he climbed back on his mount and rode to the back of the bank where the rest of the gang waited. Coffin and Mix exchanged nods and then they all began to take their positions. The bank would open in five minutes. If it went smoothly, it would all be over in ten.
Jess was at the door when it clicked unlocked. The man that opened for him was short, fairly lightweight and looked the complete opposite of Pollack. Not the type that Jess had hoped would have been there. But then again, how many burly gunslingers worked at banks?
"I need to make a deposit," Jess tried to avoid eye contact with the clerk. "I don't want to carry my load all the way home."
"Of course, let me get the deposit slip ready."
At the moment that the little man's back was to Jess, he crossed to the back door and slid the latch, letting in Mix and Pollack who instantly held their guns on the clerk. Humphrey entered through the front, and their perfectly planned robbery began.
Jess stood back near the rear wall watching the scene in front of him. Humphrey's eyes were on the street while Pollack used his brute appearance to scare the little man to comply with their wishes. As soon as the vault was opened, Mix started shoving the money, paper currency and gold coins, a heavy lot of it, into two saddle bags.
Wiping the sweat from his brow, Jess touched the gun at his hip. If only it was loaded! Mix was starting to stand, as he'd been crouched picking up the few coins he'd dropped, so he must have finished stuffing the loot. Jess knew that the plan was for no gunshots unless absolutely necessary, yet he hadn't heard the part about what to do with the bank clerk. He couldn't let Pollack kill him, for the man was powerful enough to do it without firing a weapon. But what could he do to stop it?
Jess glanced at Humphrey, his eyes still trained on the street, and then he looked at Mix closing the saddle bags. Pollack was staring intently at the little man as he trembled beneath his penetrating gaze. Since Coffin was out with the horses, there were no eyes pointing at him. This was his chance to do something.
Within an arm's length a table stood, and in the middle of that table was a pitcher full of water. His hand grasped it firmly and before the others in the room noticed, he launched it through the front window, making such a loud noise from the impact against the paneled pane, that people clear across town heard the crash and started running for the bank.
"You fool!" Humphrey was the first to point his gun on Jess.
"No, not here, there's not time!" Mix commanded. "Pollack, grab Jess and go! Coffin will be ready for us!"
Pollack's hands were on Jess so quickly that he could hardly react. Pollack hoisted him like he was a boy no bigger than Mike and swung him over his shoulder, all the while grumbling under his breath how Jess would soon die. Mix and Pollack had cleared the back door for the escape before the townspeople made it to the front, but a quick thinking man outside started firing bullets into the room through the broken glass, and one carefully placed shot took down Humphrey before he made it to safety.
Coffin was already on his horse when Pollack tossed Jess into the saddle. He barely had time to grab the reigns when Pollack hit the poor animal's rump with a fierce thwack. Mix and Pollack followed at breakneck speed, tearing the ground up as the horses fled northward.
The exit route had been carefully planned, although rough ground to go at their high rate of speed, it would be hard for a posse to follow. Jess dared to peek behind him once as they raced over a brush covered hill, but saw no sign of anyone coming; only Pollack's ominous sneer met his curious gaze.
Topping the ridge, Jess was certain he heard a shout far down below where'd they'd just come from. It couldn't have been his imagination, as Mix urged everyone to go faster, if that were at all possible. There was a stream a hundred yards down on the other side that was their goal. If they reached it, they could ride for miles up or down and never be tracked.
Jess felt sure his mount would fail him as she nearly slid on her haunches down the remainder of the hillside, but she followed his commands and remained steady. Just as they were to jump into the fairly swift water, the horse next to him carrying Coffin gave way and sent the man hurtling head first into the stream. From what Jess could tell as his horse barely missed trampling the man, he looked either dead or out cold, either way, he'd be left behind.
"Keep going, Harper," Mix's voice was hard to distinguish if it was cracking with fury or sorrow, but the tone was definitely there.
After fifteen minutes of pushing the horses through the water, Jess instinctively let his horse slow. She was tired, as he knew the other two were, and there was no point going until they all collapsed. He was glad as he did so, that Pollack and Mix followed and didn't bark at him to pick up the speed.
"This wasn't supposed to happen this way, Mix," Pollack growled. "You said no one would die. That is, except Harper."
"Look," Mix cleared his throat, maybe he was sorry two of his gang were now gone. "So it didn't go as planned. But we still have the money. A lot of money. And now it's only going to be split two ways. Doesn't it make you feel better to have more money in your pocket instead of those two still along?"
"Maybe," Pollack rubbed the back of his bald head. "But I won't be satisfied until another member of this gang goes down."
"He will," Mix promised. "We have to be farther away of this place before that happens. We've already left one to find on the trail. Can't leave two."
Deep into the afternoon, the trail they'd taken after leaving the stream was heading straight up. With large boulders, caves and crevices all around, it was becoming obvious to Jess this was the place where he'd hit the ground.
Pollack dismounted at the crest, his gun already pointed at Jess, he said too happily, "I'm going to enjoy this."
"Take him farther down the trail by that cliff," Mix pointed. "That way if the bullet doesn't kill him straight away, the fall will do the rest. And we won't have to bury him. I'm going to take the horses farther down, just in case they balk."
"Sure, Mix," Pollack waved his gun so Jess would walk in the direction Mix had indicated. "But my bullet knows how to find the heart real fast."
Jess walked the distance slowly and stopped about a foot from the edge of the cliff. He figured it was about fifty or more feet deep, only jagged rocks and a few scraggly trees lined the bottom. No one would find him down there. Only scavenger beasts.
Jess turned to face Pollack. He wasn't sure if he'd shoot him in the back or not, but he'd rather face death head on. No point hiding from it. He'd faced it before and came out on top. But now, the only way out was down, and that was a sure enough death in itself.
One of the things that was always a disadvantage for a killer, was that they often hesitated too long before they did the deed. Some murderers had to revel in their emotion of power and the sick glory they felt by making the victim helplessly wait. It was this way with Pollack. And it was this hesitation that would save Jess' life. That, and the rattlesnake coiled up near Pollack's feet.
Jess stood staring at the evil face of Pollack. He took a deep breath and held it, wishing the man would get it over with. All he had to do was pull a trigger and end his life, but Pollack seemed too happy in watching Jess wait, like a cat often does with a mouse, before he sent the bullet into his heart. The grin started to spread across the killer's face and Jess thought perhaps he should close his eyes, pray maybe, for he knew this was it. The trigger was going to get squeezed.
"Slim," Jess barely whispered, "I'm sorry."
Why Jess never heard the rattles, he didn't know, but the shot he heard only made him jump, not die. Pollack's aim was inaccurate, but the snake's was spot on. Pollack's scream as the fangs penetrated his forearm echoed in repeat off the rocks. The gun that Pollack had held went up in the air and Jess dove for it and with his hand securely on the firearm, he sent a bullet that blew the snake's head clean off.
Mix couldn't be far away. The first shot of course wouldn't startle him, as he'd only figure that Jess was dead, but the shriek and the following shot would get him running quickly.
"Pollack!" Mix's shout was indication enough that he was coming and he'd soon find the large man on the ground with his left hand clutching the pulsating bite on his right arm. But he'd also find Jess, and this time he was armed.
"McSpaddon!" Jess used the man's real name as he came into view.
"You're not dead," Mix took in the scene before him. He knew how fast Jess Harper was with a gun and he was no match. With Pollack down, he had no defense. Just the money.
"Drop your iron," Jess demanded.
"Now, let's not get too hasty," Mix crossed his arms in front of his chest, unwilling to let go of his weapon. "You see how nice it'll be now? It's just you and me and the money. Truthfully, Jess, I've always liked you. We can split it, fifty-fifty."
"No chance," Jess snapped.
"Just give it another thought," Mix tried to persuade. "We can divide the money right here. You go your way, I go mine. We never have to see each other ever again."
"The only place we're going is back to town, and it'll be a great pleasure to see you behind bars."
"Oh, but that's the sticky part," Mix laughed. "You'll be behind bars with me. You helped rob the bank, too, don't forget."
"That might be so," Jess admitted. "But I have a good chance at getting out. You, never!"
"Mix," Pollack said weakly trying to sit up. "You can't leave me here like this. I'm gonna die!"
"Give me a chance to help my friend, Harper," Mix knelt down beside Pollack when Jess reluctantly nodded, but he wasn't thinking much about Pollack's health at the moment. He knew there was a knife sticking out of Pollack's boot. If he could just catch Jess off guard, the knife would do its trick.
"You'll be all right," Mix lied. "Let me help you get more comfortable."
Jess knew he shouldn't have let him help Pollack as soon as Mix's hand flashed a knife. The blade was in the air and slicing the flesh of his thigh before he could properly react. Toppling down to one knee, Jess saw Mix go for his gun. But even though he was injured, his gun and his aim was still as sharp as ever. Mix was dead before he fell to the ground.
Pollack proved strong for a dying man, for the loss of his partner raised him to his feet. He'd grasped the gun that was in Mix's hand and was ready to fire, but Jess was ready for him. Pollack fired past Jess' ear, but the return bullet hit the big man in the chest. He fell over in a significant thud.
It was over. Jess was still alive. When he'd first started this long, arduous journey, Jess had never expected to be the one left standing. But here he was, with the exception of the cut on his leg, he was sound and whole. The only thing left for him to do was bury the dead and do something with the money.
Other men might have been tempted to take the money and go live a life of luxury, but not Jess Harper. The money would go back to the bank and hopefully the sheriff would believe his unbelievable story. With no one to back him up, he wouldn't be surprised if he'd be sitting behind bars for a while.
Jess returned to town before the day ended. He led his horse up to the sheriff's office and dismounted. Jail time wouldn't be so bad, he tried to convince himself. At least for a while, he'd know where the food was coming from and that he had a hard cot to rest his head.
A deep breath in his lungs, the saddle bags over his shoulder and a picture of Daisy in his mind from the time she reformed the outlaw in Jubilee that sent hope in his heart, Jess walked into the sheriff's office.
"That's the man right there, Sheriff Wakefield," the deputy hurried to Jess. "We were just discussing you, Mr. Cooper."
Jess couldn't help but think that wasn't a good sign as he handed the money stuffed saddle bags to the deputy. They had several hours to do a lot of good conversing of his recent wrongs.
"You made it back?" This voice with a near strangled expression belonged to Humphrey, his right arm in a sling. He apparently hadn't had a fatal bullet wound after all. "They're all dead, I suspect."
"Yeah," Jess answered.
"He confessed to everything," Sheriff Wakefield said, pointing to Humphrey. "Told how you were forced to go along with them. We were actually going to head out tomorrow and look for your body. Never figured you'd come back alive."
Jess went to stand in front of Humphrey and asked him, "why?"
"After I got shot, I thought I was dying," Humphrey explained quietly. "I started feeling bad, I guess, that you were going to die too, and I thought at least the lawmen here could go save you from being buzzard bait. But I should have kept my mouth shut. You kill the others?"
"Coffin took a fall at the creek," Jess replied.
"We found that one in the water sure enough," Sheriff Wakefield confirmed. "Drowned."
"But I had no choice with Mix and Pollack. They both died from my bullets while I darted theirs," Jess watched as Humphrey turned from the cell door and sat wearily down on his cot.
"Those were a rough bunch of outlaws," the deputy held a stack of wanted posters in his hand. "Hefty rewards, too,"
Jess shook his head as he turned towards both lawmen. "I ain't interested in any reward. I just wish I had some proof to back up what Humphrey here said. I certainly feel like I should be in that cell with him."
"You bringing the money back is proof enough, Son," the sheriff patted Jess on the back. "Besides, the bank clerk vouches for your innocence also. He told how it was you who hurled that pitcher through the window. He figures if you hadn't done that, he'd be dead for sure."
"But I just thought I should…"
"There's no need to keep explaining yourself, Mr. Cooper," Sheriff Wakefield told Jess as he ushered him to the door. "The money's all back and the townspeople are grateful. You are free to go."
"Then I guess I will," Jess shook both lawmen's hands. "Thank you."
Jess walked out of the sheriff's office and only made it a few feet before he stopped. What had the sheriff called him? Mr. Cooper? Right, the fake name he'd given the deputy yesterday. Apparently Humphrey hadn't mentioned his real name, either. Jess toyed with the idea of setting the record completely straight by telling the sheriff who he really was, but decided against it. It didn't matter what name the sheriff thought was his, just as long as they weren't putting the name on a wanted poster.
"You are free to go," the words Sheriff Wakefield had said repeated in Jess' mind. But free to go where? Slim had said to never come back. Jess was the one who had been pretending, not Slim. For Jess, every word that had come from his mouth was only an act. But Slim hadn't been part of the role playing game. He was angry, and rightfully so. Slim just might have truly meant the words that still bore into Jess' skin like barbed wire.
Then what? If he didn't go back, what would he do? Who was Jess Harper anyway? A drifter? A gunfighter? An outlaw? A rancher?
A drifter didn't have a home. Nowhere to hang his hat. A gunfighter was always on the run. Nowhere to breathe easy. An outlaw was something he never did get right, even when he was on the wrong side of the law. Nowhere that he wanted to be. A rancher had a home. Nowhere else to lay down roots.
Before his life on the Sherman ranch, he'd spent many years wandering, not really looking for a place to call home. He'd found it with Slim, but that might be all gone. If he didn't have a home anymore, he'd rather be on the drift. It wasn't the life he wanted, but it was one he knew. A roaming cowboy he could be, but before he permanently wore the title again, there was one place he had to stray to first. With great determination, Jess mounted the mare and pointed her in the direction of Laramie.
ooo
"Good night, Mike," Slim brushed the boy's hair out of his eyes as he sat next to him on the bed.
"Did you say your prayers?" Daisy walked in with the cup of milk that Mike had requested before Slim had entered the room.
"Not just yet, Aunt Daisy," Mike drank the milk and handed the glass back to Daisy.
"Well, don't forget," Daisy reached down and kissed Mike on the forehead. "Good night, dear."
Slim lingered a moment next to Mike. He'd been worried about him, as he'd spent many hours every day for three weeks sitting on the fence facing the road waiting for Jess to return. Slim had to admit himself that his eyes wandered that direction far too many times, but the worry that etched Mike's brow was getting deeper each day. He was afraid Mike would get sick.
"Mike?" Slim asked with concern as the boy sat still with his eyes closed.
"I was just sayin' my prayers, Slim," Mike answered. "And always finishin' with 'bring Jess home'."
"Oh."
"Did you say yours?"
"What, Mike?"
"Did you say your prayers, too?"
"Uh, no, Mike," Slim had to admit. "I guess I didn't."
"Aunt Daisy always tells me to say 'em before I go to bed," Mike pointed out. "Maybe if you did, too, Jess would come home."
Slim didn't have an answer, but he nodded anyway and said, "Good night" once more. Slim wandered outdoors and leaned against the hitching rail, his eyes looking up at the stars. Every night since Jess had left he'd done this, remembering the last place he'd seen his friend.
This night, though, he lingered longer than usual. Maybe he should make this the last night to do this routine. After all, he couldn't wait for Jess forever. Especially if he never would, or even could, return.
Twice weekly Slim made the trip to Laramie to inquire with Mort if he'd heard any news. He'd made that trip earlier in the day. It was always the same, just as it'd been today, that Mort knew nothing about the whereabouts of Jess. Although disappointed, Slim still was grateful as he left that no new wanted posters had been handed out to the lawman with Jess Harper's name and face on it. But that still didn't put his mind to ease. Always nagging him night and day was the fear that Jess lie dead somewhere.
"Maybe I should just give up," Slim said aloud, although no one was listening.
Another maybe, one he'd heard a few minutes before etched into his mind. It was Mike's voice inside his head now. "Maybe if you did, too, Jess would come home."
"It probably won't do any good, but," Slim looked again at the stars and although he didn't say any more words out loud, he did what Mike had hoped and said his prayers.
ooo
Jess knew the mare was losing her shoe. He was almost twenty miles from the ranch, but the strong girlfriend he'd made on this journey wasn't going to carry him any farther.
"Sorry, Sweetheart," Jess dismounted and patted her neck. "You made me really proud. I wish I could take you all the way to meet my boy, but you'll be better off not going that far."
He knew where he was. Another mile or so to the west wouldn't take him too far off course of home. There he'd find a rancher named Mead and although he was quite reclusive, he'd been an honest horseman for years. For certain he'd tend to this tough little gal's needs.
He walked her in and found the feisty rancher poised on his porch with rifle in hand. He lowered it some when he recognized that it was only Jess Harper and not some scoundrel. Although, Jess chuckled to himself, if he'd only seen him several days earlier, he might have been justified by calling him such.
"Mr. Mead," Jess nodded a greeting.
"Harper," Mead replied. "Haven't seen you out this way, in what, almost a year? Your horse gone lame?"
"She threw a shoe some time back," Jess answered. "I was wondering if you'd get her fixed up and hold her for a while."
"I can do that, sure," Mead took a look at the mare's foot.
"You got a good mount I can borrow in the meantime?"
"No, I don't," Mead shook his head. "You've not been up here a while, remember? Well, I sold most of my stock three months ago. Haven't yet filled the stable back up. The only one in there's my old Hillbilly. And he only carries my backend a couple of miles then quits."
Jess ran his hand over his jaw and sighed. He really had planned on getting back to the ranch today. He hadn't even been keeping track of the number of days he'd been gone. He knew it had to have been near three weeks by now. He had to get back. He needed to know if Slim really meant what he said.
"Your mare here'll be ready to go in a day or so, she looks like you've plumb worn her out."
"That's just the thing, Mead," Jess explained. "I've been gone a while, too long actually, and I don't want to wait a couple more days."
"The only other way out is walking," Mead pointed out.
"Then I guess that's what I'll do," Jess decided.
"You mean you're going to walk twenty miles just to get home?"
"Yep," Jess smiled. "Maybe I'll run into the stage and catch a ride."
"Well, do whatever you like," Mead shrugged, acting more cranky than he felt. "Go ahead and go, then. Just walk away.
Strange, Jess thought. Didn't Slim say those words when he left? And as he looked at Mead tending to the mare he knew it was just his ornery disposition that made him sound uncaring as he spoke. He didn't mean everything he said. Surely Slim hadn't either.
After thanking Mead for what he was doing for the mare, Jess started the long walk home. The first seven or eight miles he walked at a swift pace, but the wound in his thigh from where the knife had swiped started to agitate him and he began to slow. He had left Mead's place near the noon hour, but he knew it'd be hard to make it home by dark.
Jess almost stopped to rest at a familiar stream after he dunked his head and took a long drink. No one knew he was on his way, so he didn't have to make it home by night, but his stalwart mind was made up. He was going home.
So Jess pushed himself hard, like he always did, one step in front of the other and despite the heavy limp, there he stood at sunset looking down at the house. There were those denied tears in his eyes again. He'd later dismiss them as a reaction to the pain in his leg.
He paused his walking to savor what his misty eyes were seeing. He'd left before, many times, some on business, some on pleasure, some in anger, and some in an honor bound duty, but never before had it felt so much like home than what he was feeling now as he returned. If only Slim wanted it too.
Slim! There he was. He had just walked from the barn. At the time of evening it was, he probably was just finishing some chores before dinner. Jess stopped himself from calling out to him, fearing one more time that Slim had meant those words he'd thrown when he left that eventful night. Jess wanted to know for sure, so his feet starting moving again.
Slim had exited the barn, his eyes downcast to the ground. He'd noticed earlier in the day that Mike hadn't once sat on the fence staring up the road. The poor boy was giving up. Slim knew how he felt, as he had experienced some of the same emotions fighting in his insides also. Jess wasn't coming home. He had to quit looking.
"Wash up, Slim," he heard Daisy call from the house.
He took two backwards steps to stop at the water pump and he splashed the cold water on his hands, arms and finally rubbed it over his face. With the water droplets clinging to his eyes, his senses began to twitch. Someone was either watching him or coming. But he heard no horse.
He instinctively went for his gun, but it wasn't there. He'd left his gun belt hanging on the hook inside the front door. Slim wiped his eyes with his sleeve. He could hear the steps now, almost sounding shuffled. A limp?
Slim was regretting leaving his gun in the house, thinking maybe he should just lunge for the door and be inside to protect Daisy and Mike if need be. But then, something else tickled his senses. Familiarity. There was something quite recognizable in that stepping, even though there was a definite limp sound, there was a certain swagger. Could it be?
"Howdy, Pard."
"Jess!"
Everything Jess wanted to know was answered by the expression on Slim's face. Gone were the lines of anger and exasperation that he'd last seen marring Slim's features and instead his whole countenance radiated relief. The blue eyes that bore into his now were swimming with emotion.
"Did you miss me?" How Jess could act like a school boy at the moment was beyond Slim's imagining.
"I don't know if I should shoot you are hug you."
"You're not wearing an iron, so I'll take the hug."
"Jess," Slim wrapped his arms around his wayward friend. "Welcome home."
"So," Jess pulled back to look in Slim's eyes. "I really am welcome?"
"I didn't mean what I said, Jess," Slim admitted. "I'm sorry. This is your home."
"I'm sorry, too, Slim," Jess said solemnly. "I have a lot to explain about."
"That'll keep, Jess, but right now you have to show two more people you're home."
Jess smiled as Slim put his hand on his shoulder and they stepped into the house side by side.
"Slim, I thought you'd gotten lost out there," Daisy's back was to them both as she finished putting the food on the table.
"Sorry, Daisy," Slim smiled his response. "But I thought I'd invite a friend in for dinner."
"Oh?" She turned then, and as soon as she saw Jess, Daisy erupted into sobs. She pulled her hands over her face and shook with the tears and delight. Jess was home! "Oh, Jess! Jess!"
"Jess!" Mike leapt from the bedroom and into his arms. "I knew you'd come home!"
"Of course you did, Tiger," Jess shifted the boy to his left hip so he could wrap his right arm around Daisy. "I'm home."
"Are you all right?" Daisy asked as she was certain she'd seen him limp.
"Hurt my leg some, but nothing serious," Jess gave Daisy an extra squeeze. "But right now, after gettin' all this attention, I sure could go for that dinner. It's been weeks since I had a decent meal."
"Then you shall have it!" Daisy hurried to the kitchen to get another plate. As she returned, she paused briefly in admiration of the two men standing so close, their bond inseparable.
"You see, Slim," Daisy said as she put Jess' plate where it belonged. "I was right about you two all along."
"How's that, Daisy?" Slim asked.
"Brother's fight," Daisy answered. "But no matter what happens, they stay brothers."
"You're right there, Daisy," Slim clapped his hands together. "Now let's eat!"
ooo
Jess didn't want Daisy and Mike to know the entire story, so he waited until the next morning to tell Slim. They'd stood side by side watching the horses feed getting ready for the first stage to roll in as he explained everything.
"Well, Jess," Slim slapped his friend on the back when he concluded the details. "I'll tell you something, I think you did a courageous thing. But if you ever, and I really mean this, ever use my name again while you're outlawing, I'm going to…"
"Do what?" Jess playfully interrupted the threat.
"Well, I'm going to get Mort to deputize me and I'll throw you in a cell personally!"
"I'd just like to see you try!"
"All right, Hot Shot!" Slim grabbed for Jess but the rascal jumped beyond Slim's reach.
Slim chased Jess across the yard and caught him by the water trough, ready to dunk him in.
"Oww, ouch, Slim," Jess put his hand over the gash on his leg. "Remember my wound."
"Oh, sorry, Jess. I did forget."
"Gotcha!" Jess placed his left arm solidly around Slim's chest then pushed with all his might, plunging Slim's head and shoulders in the chilly water.
"Slim! Jess!" Daisy called from the house. "The stage is coming!"
"Well," Slim laughed, shaking the water from his hair. "I guess we better get to work."
"I'm with you, Pard," Jess smiled as they walked away to the stage, meaning every word he said. "Always."
THE END