Chapter Three
Jess felt the exhaustion coming from Traveler as he retained his strenuous gallop over the road home. He knew his mount was giving him everything he was asking through his strength and agility, but Jess knew he couldn't risk the life of another friend, so he reluctantly slowed Traveler to a more comfortable trot after a mile on the returned trip to the ranch. Doing so made the remaining eleven mile span seem exaggeratingly slow, but with the weight of worry on his shoulders, even if he had been chugging along this homeward stretch on a speedy locomotive it wouldn't have been fast enough.
Jess heard a couple of coyotes start to yip and yowl not far to the left of the road and as he turned to look in that direction, he began to noticed how dark the night really was. Mort's statement had been right. There would have been nothing for a posse to see, as he could see nothing beyond the shadows closest to him. Jess hadn't been lying to Mort about heading out, darkness and all, if Slim had already passed away, but as Jess continued to stare where the noisemaking coyotes should have been seen, he wasn't even sure he would be able to find the gunman's trail. His mind spoke a repeated plea that he wouldn't have to.
Not knowing what time it was, just that it was still the blackest of night, Jess rode into the sight of the house. He could see the glow of the lamp from the bedroom window and with each step that brought him closer, he could tell that was the only room that held a lighted lamp. Jess took that as a good sign, because it meant that Jonesy hadn't had reason to leave Slim's side. If he was gone, well, Jess couldn't dismiss that thought as readily as he wanted to, but Jess knew that Jonesy would be consoling Andy near the fireplace, in the kitchen, or anywhere but the bedroom.
Jess didn't bother to tie Traveler's reins to the hitching post, he just let them drop so his mount could wander wherever he needed. The horse found the water trough first, but Jess was in the front door of the house before he took the first drink. Jess' footsteps brought Jonesy through the bedroom door, the expression on the weathered face no different than when he'd left. This told him plain that Slim was still alive. Jess felt the air slowly expel from his lungs, but knew it would get held again soon, since he had to tell Jonesy the doctor wouldn't be coming.
"Where's Doc Sweeney?" Jonesy asked, craning his head to try to see behind Jess, hoping the aging doctor was just slow coming in.
"Delivering babies."
"No," Jonesy put a hand to his cheek. "Not them Addison twins! Why, I heard tell from Grandma Addison that it always takes an entire night or longer for one of her grandchildren to get born, and this one's coming in twos. Slim can't wait that long, Jess, he's barely holding on right now."
"Then one of us will have to try for the bullet," Jess said, taking off his gloves, finger by finger, already knowing that it would be him. Everyone around Laramie knew that Jonesy was the Sherman ranch's resident medicine man with his assortment of liniments for all ailments, but Jess knew that Jonesy would be the first to admit that he wasn't qualified to try to extract a bullet such as this. Jess wasn't really either, yet he'd done it before, but not on his best friend, not when it could mean the end of a life he loved as if they were flesh and blood brothers.
"I'll get some knives heated up," Jonesy said bleakly as he walked into the kitchen.
Jess tossed his hat without aiming, yet it still found the hook by the door before he pulled a couple of matches from his pocket. He lit every lamp, as the oppressive darkness was starting to add to the heavy burden he held, but no matter how much light now radiated from the house, it couldn't dispel the darkness from each heart. He watched Jonesy briefly preparing in the kitchen, and then he walked almost silently into the bedroom, his eyes being attached to Slim immediately.
Jess took a steady breath as he kneeled next to Slim. He watched the slow intake of breath, how it was held slightly, before it was then released through Slim's barely parted lips. He touched Slim's forehead, surprised to feel it so warm, and then rested a finger near his pulse point. Slow, as it was before, but he didn't know if it was just wishful thinking or reality, but Jess was certain that it felt stronger than when he first found him in the dirt.
"What can I do, Jess?"
The tension had been so thick Jess hadn't remembered Andy. But there he was, standing near Jess' elbow, his face almost as pale as Slim's. Jess turned to look at the boy in the eyes, seeing every bit of fear that he held coming from them. He hoped that whatever Andy could see in his own, wasn't that same deathly fear.
"Andy, I know you wanna help, and you can," Jess gently put his hands on Andy's shoulders and tried to not sound as desolate as he felt. "There's a couple of important things I need you to do. Traveler needs tending. I rode him mighty hard at times so give him every ounce of your goodness. And then when you're through, I want you to wait outside on the porch and listen as hard as your ears can hear for Doc Sweeney's arrival. As soon as you hear the turn of a wheel, or the first clop of a horse's hoof, I wanna know."
"All right," Andy said almost silently. "Jess?"
"Hmm?"
"Slim is going to make it, right?"
"Andy," Jess pulled Andy close to him, tucking him under his right arm. "I think you're old enough and close enough to being a man that I ain't gonna lie to you. Slim is in real bad shape, bad enough that he could die, but Jonesy and I are gonna do everything we can to not let that happen and help pull him through this. Slim don't wanna die, Andy. I bet there in his deep sleep he's fighting with everything he's got to live."
"Then he will," Andy said with a resolute firmness.
"Keep believing that, Andy," Jess said, wishing he could find the same confidence. "Now get outside and do like I asked."
Andy ran through the bedroom door just as Jonesy came through it. Jonesy waited until Andy was out the front door before he opened his palm, showing Jess that the knives were ready. Jonesy sighed, dropping his eyes to Slim's motionless body, wishing with all of his might that his eyes would fly open and give him reason to chuckle. But Slim was too far gone to do that, and Jonesy felt the fear start to squeeze even tighter in his chest that Slim was too far gone to do anything ever again. He set the knives down, folded his hands together and turned his eyes to Jess.
Jess knew that what needed to be done was not something he could avoid. He was, by nature, the type of man who always took things that came at him head on. He had never shirked in the face of adversity before, and now wouldn't be the time to start. But this was far different than facing an enemy in any form of fight. This was holding a life in his hands, Slim's life, and it had to be done, right now.
"Pard," Jess said, swallowing twice before he could continue, "you're not gonna wanna know that it's my hand going for the bullet. If you did, you'd probably jump right outta that bed and keep running until you got clean outta the Territory. My hands ain't…"
Jess looked down at his hands and maybe for the first time, viewed them with the precise details he saw now. He flexed his fingers open and closed, this being his prime telltale sign of agitation. Forcing them to be still, he held one hand closer to his eyes. His fingers were spread slightly apart, the nails on each cut low and never even, but not looking as misshapen as they did when he was a youngster with a bad habit of gnawing on his fingernails. His skin was not soft and smooth, but rough in places, especially along the lines where his grip would tighten over whatever object he was holding.
His hands were strong and forceful. Clenched into a fist they were a powerful weapon. The right hand, the one he depended on the most, had the ability to pull a gun out of his holster in rapid speed with the finger on the trigger to pull it if necessary an instant later. They were trained, skilled and knew how to perform a multitude of tasks without balking under pressure or flinching at the beginning of pain. These were hands meant for roping, branding, gun drawing, axe wielding, hammer pounding and all around hard labor and every bit of it showed in their appearance. Around his palms were calluses and scars that proved their capabilities of various duties, and it was these marks where Jess kept his gaze lingered upon the longest. He knew without even thinking that his hands displayed quite openly that they were not the hands of a skilled physician.
However, what Jess didn't see, but was actually there, were hands that had cuddled a young puppy, gentled a nervous horse, comforted the injured, helped the weak, and caressed a soft face. This hand that he viewed had the tenderness to pick a fragrant flower, hold a freshly hatched chick, touch a kitten so that it purred, and could wipe away several tears, that of his own, and on other cheeks as well. Jess' hands were both strong and gentle, if he could only see what they really were, he'd know they were more than adequately equipped.
"Jonesy," Jess said softly as he lowered his hands back to Slim's body. "We best get him turned over."
Ever since they'd placed Slim on the bed, he'd been laying on the wound to help keep the bandage in place to help slow down the overflow of blood. Now that it was time to try to remove the bullet, they needed him in a better position. Jess waited until Jonesy was on the opposite side of the bed before he started to gently roll Slim onto his stomach. Jonesy helped move the legs, while Jess had a hold of the shoulders and as Jess turned him, Slim groaned so audibly with such a heart wrenching sound that Jess couldn't contain the gasp from his own lips.
"I'm sorry, Slim," Jess said quickly, although he didn't figure Slim could even hear him. Once safely turned, Slim was as deep into the darkness of unconsciousness that a man could be while still being alive.
"Looks like the blood hasn't been pumping out quite as fast as before," Jonesy said as he peeled back the layers of bandaging. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath as he got a full view of the wound, almost feeling the unfamiliar punch in his gut of nausea. "Still doesn't look good."
"Never saw a bullet wound look pretty," Jess said, trying to relieve a least an ounce of tension. He touched the skin around the open wound, little spurts of blood coming through the hole as he felt for the bullet. He wished he could feel it with his fingers, indicating that it wasn't as deep as feared, but there was nothing to feel but swollen, angry flesh. "Get the smallest knife."
"Jess," Jonesy held the knife Jess had requested, but reluctantly kept it in his grip. "Are you sure this is right?"
Jess knew what Jonesy was questioning. He looked into Jonesy's eyes and saw fear sparkling with the unshed tears. He felt it too, but he knew there was no other answer, no other way. Doc Sweeney was unavailable and Slim was dying. Jess didn't need to have any medical expertise to know that fact. He could sense it in the way Slim struggled to breathe, the sound he emitted when he groaned, the way he seemed so horribly lifeless as he'd been turned. There was only one right thing, and this was it.
"There's only one answer, Jonesy," Jess said, reaching out to take the knife from Jonesy's hand. "It's life or death. Either way you look at it, Slim's gonna die if that bullet don't come out, it's the only way he could possibly live and I want Slim to live."
"Me too," Jonesy said so softly Jess could barely pick out the words.
"Get the lamp and bring it close so I can see as best as I can," Jess instructed. "I doubt he's gonna move, but if he does, I'll need your hands on him instead."
As soon as the knife was inserted, Jonesy, not wanting to watch the agonizing details, kept his eyes on Jess' facial expressions. Jess held his jaw in a tight clench, but the corners of his mouth moved as he concentrated. Jonesy could see the tension in the blue eyes that focused entirely on the wound, the lines crinkling around the eyelids as Jess searched for the bullet. There was no masking the pain and grief that Jonesy saw in his features as he knew it must have been torturing Jess on the inside to be working on Slim this way. Jess clenched his jaw even tighter, spreading his lips far enough apart that his teeth showed. Then Jonesy saw a muscle jump in his cheek and the eyes drew a spark. Jonesy knew in that instant that Jess had found the bullet. Jess held his breath so Jonesy held his too, and then with the rush of its release through Jess' teeth came the sound of the bullet hitting a bedside pan.
"Quick, Jonesy," Jess said hurriedly, "get some pressure on it, he's losing blood fast."
Jess knew that Jonesy did as he said without seeing him do so as Jess picked up a towel to wipe his hands. He looked down at Slim's ashen face and the towel dropped instantly to the ground. "Slim!"
"What is it?" Jonesy asked, although he somehow knew, but he wouldn't release his hand from applying the necessary pressure to the wound to look.
"No, no, no," Jess said repeatedly as he dropped to his knees. "Slim ain't breathing! What have I done?"
"Dear Lord," Jonesy let a tear fall and it landed in a soft droplet on Slim's back near the wound.
"Come on, Slim," Jess pleaded, giving Slim a firm, but gentle shake. "Don't leave us, Slim. Come on, Hard Rock show us what you're made of! Dad-gummit Slim, breathe!"
The sound that Slim made, as his lips parted ever so slightly to take in the precious air and then the release that soon followed was as beautiful as anything either Jess or Jonesy had ever heard. Only thirty arduous seconds had passed that Jess hadn't seen him breathe, yet in that grueling time span, the tightness that had gripped Jess' chest was enough to know that if Slim had died, his own heart would have been ripped from his chest. It might have kept beating, but it would have lost its vigor for life if Slim had lost his life. Jess dropped his hand to rest on Slim's head, watching as he continued to draw the air through his lips. Slim was still alive, for now, and as Jonesy let the tears fall down his weathered face, Jess looked up into those wet eyes and drew a smile on his taut lips, bringing the same response in return from Jonesy.
"I think if I was a woman I'd be passing out right about now," Jonesy said through his smile, and then brought it back into its pinched with worry look. "He's still bleeding mighty fast, Jess."
"I know," Jess nodded as he drew himself back to his feet. His legs were shaking, but that was the only part of his body that betrayed his firm resolve. His hands stayed steady as he added more compresses to Slim's wound, wishing there was more that he could do. "I'm afraid I did more damage yanking that bullet out than when it went in."
"It had to come out, Jess," Jonesy tried to encourage. "I sure wish that doc would get here."
"Have any clue what time it is?"
"No," Jonesy shook his head. "I don't wanna remove my hands from Slim to check my watch. But if my brain is ticking as accurately as the timepiece, then I'd say it's near four."
"He was shot around six," Jess felt the stab in his chest as he remembered the sound, remembered the man riding away on Alamo.
"Ten hours," Jonesy sighed. "He's made it this far. That counts for something, right?"
"Yeah," Jess answered, daring to peek under the bandage to see if any less blood was coming. "I just hope that it's enough."
The next hour went by excruciatingly slow. The only sounds within the room were Slim's rasping breaths, with Jess and Jonesy's ears straining to hear each and every one of them. Even the constant ticking on the clock from the other room went unnoticed as their focus was entirely on the unconscious man in his bed. Jess stared at Slim without movement except for his eyes when they needed to blink, but on Jonesy's face, the man's lips moved ever so slightly as he repeated the same prayer.
From a distance, Jess heard the noise approaching and it broke his constant concentration. He stood, knowing who was coming a moment before Andy burst through the front door with the announcement, "Doc Sweeney's here!"