Meltdown Part Two

by

Hattie Lynn

Afternoon sunlight streamed through the boarding house window and nudged Slim awake. He'd been sitting in the rocking chair by Jess' bed for the last three hours and had dozed off. He and Jess were exhausted. They'd just gone through a couple of hellish days that ended in a gunfight where both their lives had been threatened – by each other. It left a man drained. And in Jess' case, very intoxicated. Nevertheless, the stage must go on and the chores done. Slim got to his feet.

He looked down at Jess who was still sound asleep beneath a blue patchwork quilt. Lying there he looked like an angelic child, one hand thrown up by his dark head, long lashes fanned out along his cheeks, his face soft and sweet in post-binge slumber.

Slim sighed. How could anyone who created such dangerous dilemmas look like that? But this was Jess, deadly gunfighter in one instance and vulnerable little boy in the next. There never was, never would be anyone like him and Slim loved him in spite of - or maybe because of - his contradictions and the troubles that came with him.

Slim's current Jess dilemma was whether to wake him up and get him sober enough to make it back to the ranch or leave him at the boarding house to sleep it off. It didn't take long for him to decide. He wasn't about to leave Jess alone in town. Hung over and still feeling guilty about his part in the gunfight earlier today there was no telling what he might do. Nope, Jess was going home with him if he had to tie him on Traveler to get him there.

Slim made sure there was water in the washstand pitcher and that the washbowl was handy before he leaned over Jess to rouse him.

"Hey, pard. Time to wake up. We need to get back to the ranch."

Jess didn't stir. This was unusual. Normally, when Jess was unexpectedly disturbed, he woke trigger happy, gun in hand. But this morning he'd gotten really drunk. Slim would have to try harder.

"Jess!" he yelled and shook him with both hands. "Jess! Come on, boy, you got to get up!"

Jess groaned and turned his head away from the annoying voice in his ear but the groan ended in a weak yelp of pain. He grabbed his head to push the monster headache back to whatever hell it had come from. It didn't work. The voice was louder now and somebody was shaking him around as if he were a lump of butter in a churn.

"Jess! Up and at 'em, cowboy."

Jess groaned again. What the heck had he done to himself? His head seemed to be trapped in a vise and now a dizzying whirlpool inside of it was pulling him down to some nauseating underworld.

"Jess!" The voice again. Slim's voice. Jess' eyes squinted open.

"Slim ...? … hey … pard … I don't feel so good…."

"I bet you don't," Slim said without much sympathy. "You drank a lot of whiskey in a mighty big hurry. But you got to get up now. We've got to get home."

Jess' face twisted into a miserable frown, both eyes squeezed shut, both hands clenched on his head. "… I think … I'm gonna … throw up …."

He rolled on his side, gagging, but Slim was there with the washbowl as Jess tossed up green bile and what little was left in his stomach after two days of not eating. He fell back on his pillow looking like a wrung out dishrag.

"I'm sorry, Jess," Slim said as he wiped his friend's face with a wet cloth, "but we've got to get back to the ranch. The stage will be coming in an hour or so. Besides.…" He played his trump card. "Daisy and Mike are going to be worried sick until they see us."

That got Jess' attention. Fighting to stay conscious, he tried to figure out what had happened to make him so sick. It was all very hazy. Slim was mad at him. No, no, that wasn't right. Slim said he wadn't mad anymore. "Oh, God," Jess groaned as the memories percolated through. "I was walking down the street with Duncan. Slim could've been shot. He was walking against me. Oh, God…."

Slim finally managed to pull Jess into a sitting position and then hauled him into the rocking chair by the bed. He shoved the washbowl onto Jess' lap. "I'm going over to the livery stable to get the horses ready to ride," he said. "You stay put. I'll be back."

Jess was left to his own thoughts. He slumped down, his face over the washbowl, his head in his hands. He felt sick again but there was nothing left to throw up. "I'm an idiot," he thought. "What the hell have I done?" He remembered getting Sam to bring him a bottle of whiskey. He'd needed reinforcement before he rode out. He meant to ride out. It was all over for him in this town. But then Slim had come in with Mort. They were both mad at him. Mort took his gun. "Oh, God." Jess' head sank lower in his hands. "I made a fool of myself – again. Cried like a baby. Oh, God. I'm never showing my face in Laramie again."

Just then Mort Corey came into the room carrying a steaming pot of coffee and a cup. He took the washbowl out of Jess' lap and handed him the cup. "I saw Slim outside," he said. "He told me you could use a drink. Of coffee, that is. Maybe it will make you feel better."

Mort poured some of the hot brew for him and Jess downed it in one gulp. He hoped it would stay down.

Mort poured him another one then sat down on the bed, staring hard at him. "Now look here, boy. I got something I want to say to you."

Jess raised a face to him so crinkled with misery Mort almost had mercy on him. But he didn't. He wanted to get this out and Jess needed to hear it.

"Jess, you went plum loco over something that happened a long time ago." He frowned and shook his head. "You almost threw away everything you've worked for in the last three years. You almost threw Slim away."

Jess' dark brows crinkled up even more.

Mort's heart ached for his young friend but he had to go on, for Jess' sake as well as for Slim's. "I know you wouldn't have fired on Slim. Or me. But I do think you were willing to get yourself killed. And how would Slim have felt then?"

Jess' head ducked to near invisibility.

"That Duncan boy and the wagon were the only thing that kept something really bad from happening," Mort continued. "At the very least you would have been looking at jail time. And how would any of us have felt about that? How would Mike have felt? And Daisy?"

By now Jess looked like a ten year old boy, mouth puckered and on the verge of tears.

Mort began to relent. In a softer voice he said, "People from your past are going to keep showing up forever, Jess. You've covered a lot of territory. But Slim's been a really good friend to you. Probably the best friend you'll ever have. All I'm saying is that you need to do some serious thinking about what's really important."

He rose and clapped a work-hardened hand on Jess' shoulder and held it there for a minute before he turned and left the room, closing the door quietly behind himself.

Jess unfroze with a hard sigh and a hand to his forehead. "Oh, God. Everybody hates me now," he thought to himself in despair. "This ain't never gonna get better." He rose and staggered over to his boots by the washstand. He was struggling to get into them when Slim came back.

"Oh, good. You're up. Think you can make it to Traveler? Once you're on him all you have to do is hold on. He knows the way home blindfolded."

"Hey…Slim…," Jess said feebly as Slim turned toward the door. "I'm real sorry about how I acted…I mean with Duncan…..I was a fool….and in the saloon getting so drunk. I know you're trying to be nice to me but - "

"I thought we had that settled," Slim said. "I'm not mad at you. But I do want to talk to you about some things when you feel better."

"I ain't drunk no more, Slim, just hung over," Jess said. "Listen, you're not obliged to me. I've caused you a lot of trouble and I'm sorry. It'd be better all around if I just stayed in town for awhile and then rode out." Now that he'd started he couldn't stop. "I mean you ain't gonna trust me again and neither is Mort. I did about the worst thing a man can do – turn on his friends. I'm sorry Slim. I wasn't thinking straight. I got tangled up in my mind with Knute being hurt and prison and I was so mad…"

"Jess," Slim gripped his shoulder and shook it gently. "We need to talk about a lot of things but now's not the time. The ride home will do us both good. We'll get the stage changed out and the chores done and eat some of Daisy's dinner and then we can talk. So, let's go."

Jess raised his eyes to look straight at Slim for the first time since he woke up. "You want me to go back to the ranch with you?"

"Well, what have I been saying?" Slim said with some asperity, then added, "You're still whiskey addled. Come on. Let's go."

Head swimming, sick to his stomach Jess followed him. With a little help, he managed to get mounted and his hands wrapped around the saddle horn. Traveler meekly fell in behind Slim and Alamo and Jess fell back into semi-consciousness. What did Slim want to talk about? Was he just fooling and wanted him to come to the ranch to get his gear and say goodbye to Daisy and Mike? That was probably it. Good ole by the book Slim. If you're going to do something do it right. Don't ride out without a proper goodbye. Probably wanted to make sure he paid him all the wages owed to him. Say goodbye all polite and nice like, tell him to write, come to visit if he was ever back this way, sorry things didn't work out, give him a good recommendation if anybody asked about him. Jess rehearsed the scene in his mind all the way home getting more and more depressed. He could come up with only one conclusion. "Fire and damnation. There's something wrong with me. How could I walk against Slim and Mort? I have to ride out."

Daisy saw them coming from the kitchen window. She'd waited for hours in quiet agony for her boys to come home, not knowing if either one would come back to her alive. Or, in Jess' case, come back at all even if he had survived. She rushed out to meet them and stood wringing her hands as Slim helped Jess dismount. For a moment Jess swayed, unsteady on his feet. Then Daisy ran up to him, wrapped her arms around him and pulled his head down to her shoulder. "Oh, my boy," she wept as she clung to him. "My dear, dear boy."

Slim's hand rested lightly on the back of Jess' neck and he saw the trace of tears on his face when he raised his head from Daisy's embrace.

"Come on, pard," he said, gently guiding him toward the house, "let's get you back in bed for a while."

Jess allowed himself to be shepherded to his bunk where he collapsed almost at once into sleep again. Daisy covered him with a quilt before turning toward Slim.

"Thank God you're both home safely," she said, her voice breaking.

Slim pulled her into his arms. They stood holding on to each other for a while, then Slim asked, "Where's Mike?"

Daisy wiped her eyes. "I sent him to the neighbors. I didn't want him to be here if …" She took a long, calming breath. "He'll be home soon."

"Good." Slim led her into the main room and sank down wearily at the table. "Let me tell you what happened."

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

The stage had come and gone and the sun was setting when Jess woke up. Consciousness returned but so did the nausea. Worst still, a black hole of self-loathing racked his whole body, threatening to suck him into another kind of oblivion. The nightmare feeling prompted an impulse to get on Traveler and ride as far away as he could from this place, from these good people.

But there was another part of Jess, the part that had drawn him back to this place for the last three years - the part that loved these good people and wanted to be loved in turn by them.

Taking a deep painful breath, he pulled himself to his feet, went to the washstand, splashed cold water on his face, ran a comb through his hair, straightened his shirt and turned to go looking for Slim, the person he needed to see first.

When Jess came out of the bedroom, he saw Mike and Daisy sitting at the kitchen table going over Mike's school work.

"Jess!" Mike jumped up and hurled himself at Jess. "Boy, I'm glad you're home. You ain't going to leave again are you? We was real worried about you."

Jess still felt like knives were cutting his head up from the inside but he gave Mike a quick hug. "Hold on Tiger," he said. "I'll tell you about it later."

He looked over at Daisy who stood smiling at him. "Want some supper, Jess?" she said. "I saved some chicken soup for you."

"No, thanks, Daisy. Not now." His fingers twitched on Mike's shoulder. "Where's Slim?"

"Why, I believe he's out at the barn finishing the chores…"

Jess was already headed for the door before she completed the sentence. He met Slim coming out of the barn and stopped in front of him, wordless. Now that the moment had come he couldn't think of what to say.

Slim came to his rescue. "Glad to see you back in the land of living," he said. "Head still hurting?"

"Yeah, some."

"Feel up to talking?"

"Yeah, Slim," Jess said quickly. "Look, I got to tell you …. I'm sorry. I'm real sorry. If you want me to ride out, I'll get my gear and go…."

"Jess," Slim turned him toward the house. "You may not remember but we've already settled that. A couple of times. I don't want you to go anywhere. But I do want to talk to you. Come on. Let's sit on the porch for a while."

Jess was still so hung over – and so relieved – he felt shaky. He sank into one of the chairs. Slim sat down in the other one, turning it to face him.

Jess didn't wait. "I do remember, Slim. Most of it anyway. I just went loco. I'm sorry, Slim. I'm really sorry."

"I know, Jess. I'm sorry, too."

Surprised, Jess said, "You ain't got nothing to be sorry about."

Slim went on. "Just before the gunfight, Halleck told me the truth about how Knute got hurt. I should have stopped the fight then. Let you and everybody on the street know what really happened."

Jess thought about this for a minute. "Johnny would've probably shot you before you could get it out."

"Maybe. Maybe not. But I should have tried."

"You didn't have much time to think about things. I did…"

"No argument there."

They both fell silent.

"There's something else, Jess."

Jess' face tightened. "Here it comes," he thought.

"I want you to tell me about it. The prison. I want to know the whole thing."

Jess was quiet for so long Slim thought he wasn't going to answer. Then speaking real low he said, "It was my fault. It was my patrol. All from Texas. I knew a lot of them from before the war. The ones that didn't get killed in the fight that day, most of them died in that prison camp." His mouth went dry. "Knute was so young. Like .…"

"A little brother?"

"Yeah …."

Another silence stretched between them.

"Well, alright," Slim said at last. "It was you. And millions of other men who fought in that war, too. Including me. A lot of bad things happened. Before and after." He paused, his eyes lowered. "I wasn't here to help Pa when he was in trouble. Then when I got home I went gallivanting off to get things out of my system. I left Ma here alone. That probably helped kill her."

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and stared hard at the worn planks of the porch floor. This kind of talk wasn't all that easy for him. "What I really want to know is what are you going to do now?" His brow furrowed as he looked up. "Is it over?"

Jess was confused. "Is what over?"

"Riding out to help old friends – or settle old scores." Slim's jaw tightened and he looked down again. "Anything you can't talk out with me."

Jess was still puzzled. What was Slim getting at? "I don't know what to say, Slim. There's some things I don't know myself. Leastwise that I can remember right now. I ain't never given you my word."

Slim's head jerked up. "Don't you think I know that?" he snapped. "How many times have I checked your bunk in the middle of the night to see if you were still in it? When you ride off on ranch business I don't wonder when you're coming home, I wonder if you're coming home." His voice was tight with pain. "You've been here three years, going on four. You're a part of this place. A part of Andy and Daisy and Mike." He stopped, mustering courage to say what he really needed to say. "You're a part of me, Jess." He was glaring right at him now. "If it had been anybody else, I'd of fired them right off. But I didn't fire you. I came after you – more than once."

Jess ducked his head, unable to meet Slim's eyes.

Slim plowed on. "One time I told you I made a friend out of you because you needed it. But that's not the all of it." He took a breath. "I needed a friend, too. But you got to be more than a friend. You got to be family." There was a long pause. "Somebody I thought had my back no matter what."

Jess looked like he might be sick again.

"I needed you that much," Slim said relentlessly. "I needed a friend. I needed you."

"Slim... I - "

"Just listen, Jess. I've got to get this out now. I need for you to decide. I've got to know if this ranch comes first with you." Again a painful pause. "If I come first with you."

A buzzing sensation shot right through Jess' whole body, like he'd been hit with a tiny bolt of lightning. He heard the pain in Slim's voice, the loneliness beneath the surface. He'd never thought about how Slim felt about him before, not all that much anyway. Now he understood. Slim needed him. Slim needed him. The buzzing turned into a tightness in his chest, but as he studied Slim's tense face the tight feeling began to loosen, then loosened more. A warmth started spreading in his chest almost like his heart was on fire. He saw Slim's jaw muscles jumping as he waited for him to respond but that didn't scare him anymore. His face softened.

"I hear you, Slim," he said at last, looking right at him. "I was wrong to stand with Duncan. I know that now. It scares me to think of what might of happened. Sorry ain't enough of a word. That's why I tried to ride out. I couldn't face you. Or Daisy. Or Mike. Or Mort." He paused. "But I couldn't do it. I wanted to stay here. With Daisy and Mike. With you if you'll have me."

Slim reared back so hard he nearly tipped his chair over. "Damn it, Jess!" he yelled, slamming the chair forward again. "That's what I'm talking about. 'If you'll have me'," he mocked. "Yes, Jess! I'll have you! What do you think I've been saying since you got drunk this morning? How many times do I have to say it?"

In an effort to simmer down, Slim ran his hand through his hair, making it fluff up around his ears. This struck Jess as being kind of funny. He bit his lip to suppress a laugh but something had shifted inside of him, like a gear falling into place. Mort was right. Slim was a better friend to him than anyone had ever been. Slim wanted to come first with him – and all of a sudden Jess knew. Slim did come first.

Jess' face suffused with gentle sweetness and his blue eyes glowed with the vibrancy of warm coals in a low burning fire. "You got it, Partner," he said and smiled. "You come first." He shot to his feet like a soldier coming to attention and stuck his hand out. "I promise on a stack of Bibles. I give you my word."

Slim stood up slowly. He eyed Jess with suspicion. This was too good to be true. "You really mean that?"

"Yeah, Slim. I really mean that." Jess' smile widened into a gap-toothed grin and he shoved his hand toward Slim again. "How long am I going to have to stand here with my paw hanging out in the wind before we shake on it?"

Slim's worried scowl transformed muscle by muscle into brow raised, opened mouthed delight. As if sheer physical force could keep Jess from changing his mind, he grabbed his outstretched hand and clamped down on it like a cougar trap that'd been sprung.

"Ow..." Jess laughed and winced at the same time, pulling his hand free and cradling it against his midriff with exaggerated tenderness. "Glad you're happy about that," he joked. "And Pard," he lifted his chin, still smiling, "I'm feeling a lot better all of a sudden. Like I might live to see another day. That is if I can get some of Daisy's left over supper. I'm starving."

"Sure, Jess, sure…." Slim was practically bouncing with excitement. He grabbed Jess's arm and half-pushed, half-pulled him into the house. "….but there's one more thing…. Daisy! Mike! Come in here!" he shouted. "I want you to see this."

Daisy and Mike hurried into the room, curiosity and wariness on both their faces. Slim left Jess standing somewhat befuddled in the middle of the floor as he took a couple of quick strides to the roll top desk and picked up an official looking black folder. He shoved it into Jess' hands.

"This is for you."

Caught by surprise Jess juggled the folder to keep the loose papers inside it from scattering to the floor.

"Well read it, Jess. At least the first couple of lines."

Jess' dark brows wrinkled as he concentrated on the words.

"This ain't right, Slim. It says – "

"I know what it says. It's all there. Part ownership of the ranch."

Jess frowned. "Ain't right, Slim." he repeated, shaking his head, staring down at the folder like it was a rattlesnake. "Ain't my ranch. I ain't done nothing to deserve it."

"Oh, yes, you have and you know it. This ranch, this family would have gone under a long time ago if it weren't for you."

"But Andy…"

"Andy's all in. He's already signed it. Got his signature notarized in St. Louis. All it needs now is your John Hancock and mine and a couple of witnesses." Slim's blonde hair seemed to puff out even more with sheer anticipation as he said, "We'll go into Laramie tomorrow and get that done." He grinned at Jess and watched for his reaction.

Jess flushed a deep red. He looked at Slim and then at Daisy and Mike and then back at Slim. Something seemed to hang in the air, waiting, breath held to see what Jess would do. Then for the third time that day his eyes filled with tears. This time he didn't seem to care who saw them. "You really mean it, Slim?"

Slim's head went down in a burst of helpless laughter. With a long stride, he was at his friend's side. He flung an arm around Jess' shoulders and drew him into a bone-crushing hug. "Yeah, Jess," he said, "I really mean it."

Under the shelter of Slim's arm, Jess was caught between laughter and tears. Laughter won out even as the tears spilled over. He threw his arms around Slim in a fierce hug of his own.

"Thanks, Partner." His voice was choked, partly because Slim was squeezing his neck so hard. "Thanks a lot ..."

Smiling and laughing and asking questions no one bothered to answer, Daisy and Mike crowded in close to share the joy. Two pairs of strong masculine arms opened to receive them. The center held. Forged in pain and annealed in love, the center of the friendship between Jess and Slim would always hold.

The poet is a passionate man
who lives quietly,
knowing very well what he wants. It is love,
some formation thereof…
… love,
of all changes, all different roads leading to the same thing,
of love that never goes away
without coming back.

Dianne Wakowski