Chapter Four
With only a pair of legs sticking out from behind the water trough, Jess suffered agonizing blow after blow to his chest with each hurried step that he took, not knowing exactly what he'd find until the motionless body was in full view. Everything seemed to come to a screeching halt when Jess stepped over the man in the dirt, a moan ready to be expelled through his lips, but with his throat so dry it came out closer to a whimper. The man on the ground was the Sherman ranch's oldest part time worker, Ben.
Jess kneeled in the dirt beside him, his hands gently turning the older man over and he immediately winced as he saw the dark colored welt above the battered man's eye. Jess rested his hand on Ben's chest, as he needed to do more than just see the weak movements of his breathing, but feel the rhythm of his lungs at work to prove that he was still alive. Jess moved his hand to touch the swollen forehead, this bringing a groan from deep inside of Ben, but the reaction to his pain wouldn't arouse him fully. Jess pulled out a handkerchief that was sticking out of the man's pocket and after plunging it into the cool water beside them, Jess tenderly wiped away the bits of dirt that had clung to Ben's sweat stained face and then held the damp cloth over the pulsating wound. The groans became more frequent and then Ben's body jerked as he started to pull free from the darkness.
"Easy, Ben," Jess said softly, "you need to lie still."
"That you, Jess?" Ben tried to pull his head up, but Jess kept his hands on the man's shoulders to keep him down.
"Yeah," Jess answered with a nod, even though with Ben's eyes still closed he couldn't see the action.
"Good," Ben tried to smile, but it turned into a grimace instead.
"Who did this to you?" Jess asked the question he already knew the answer to.
"Three sidewinders." This confirmation from Ben's lips brought Jess' teeth so tightly together that his jaw hurt like he'd just been punched squarely again. He shouldn't have been there as Ben hadn't been asked to assist Jess while Slim was away, but he must have stopped by for some friendly chatter and ran into a trio of ruffians instead.
"The McCanles gang," Jess' tone matched his inner fury. Ben hadn't been around Laramie during their unwelcome intrusion a few months earlier, so he hadn't learned how ruthless Ezra and his boys could be when they didn't get what they wanted. But he did now.
"They asked me where Slim was," Ben's shaky words made Jess' body go rigid. Ben knew.
"And…?" Jess prompted, even though he knew Ben was close to falling unconscious again.
"I told 'em it was none of their business," Ben wearily pulled his hand up to his head, "but then one of 'em started to hit me. I'm sorry, Jess. I thought they were gonna shoot me, so I said Slim went up to Mason's Ridge."
"It's all right, Ben," Jess replied, but it wasn't likely that Ben had heard him at all, for he had gone back to the place where pain went unknown.
Jess slowly stood, his eyes riveted to the northern hills where he knew Ezra and his boys were headed. Slim was no longer safe. If Jess had held any comfort that the McCanles gang had ridden away from his hanging tree without getting what they wanted, it was now forgotten. There was no blame in Jess' heart towards Ben for giving away Slim's location. He didn't know Ezra McCanles' vengeful reasoning and even if he had, Jess would have never asked the man to stay as unwavering in his stance as he had when faced with similar cruelty.
The sound of the westbound stage atop of the hill turned Jess in its direction. He breathed a sigh of relief upon its arrival, for the coach and team of horses would be the easiest transportation to get Ben into Laramie so he could get started on McCanles' trail. He stepped up to the coach as it rolled to a stop, the driver and shotgun rider were both wide-eyed at what was displayed in front of them.
"What happened?" Frankie, the man who'd driven the team, asked as he stepped down from the coach, the concern in his voice as evident as the worry lines on his forehead.
"Too much to tell about," Jess answered and then turned towards the shotgun man, Tex. "Switch the teams for me, will you?"
Tex complied in a hurry, knowing Jess Harper well enough that if he looked as beaten as an old rug on cleaning day that something was very wrong at the Sherman relay station. As he hurriedly worked, he watched Frankie and Jess look over the unconscious body on the ground and then carefully carry the old man to the empty stagecoach.
"Get Ben to the doc's right away," Jess commanded after Ben was placed inside of the coach, grateful that it had only been a mail run and not a coach bursting at the seams with passengers.
"What about you?" Frankie couldn't help but gape at Jess' obvious wounds.
"I'll be fine," Jess shrugged, doing his best to make his injuries look like they weren't anything serious.
"You want me to send the sheriff out here?" Frankie asked, his eyes darting back and forth between Ben's face and Jess' shoulder.
"No point," Jess answered quickly, his eyes turning towards Tex as the younger man was finishing the final steps of getting the stage ready to go. "There won't be anyone here when he comes. But you can do me a favor, though. Stop by Jud's place and tell him I need him to watch the ranch for a spell."
"You're heading out?" Frankie asked with eyebrows raised.
"Ain't got any other choice," Jess said and then with one last look at Ben, Jess shut the stagecoach door and then walked with a firm stride towards the corral to saddle his mount for what had the potential to be an intense ride to Mason's Ridge, a small, quiet town north of Casper.
Jess left the ranch in a hurried pace not long after the stagecoach hit the road towards Laramie. Jess took a different turn off of the road, as his path would start winding into the northerly hills. Before his horse stepped off of Sherman property, Jess stopped his mount and turned his head to look behind him. From that vantage point, everything that he could see belonged to his partner. Jess had a strange sensation wash over him as he finally turned to go. What would happen to the ranch if McCanles had his way? In Slim's eyes it belonged to both of them, but Jess knew one thing for certain, he wouldn't want to run it without his partner.
He was weak. With every mile that passed on the trail, Jess became even weaker. The blood had quit flowing freely from his shoulder, but the damage from the loss of his blood had already taken its toll. The adrenaline that had carried him had been steadily dwindling and Jess could feel the last ounces of strength fade away quicker than the sunlight that was now being replaced with the dark of night. He took a deep breath, telling himself that he had to keep going for Slim, but his personal command inside of his head was getting as faint as how his entire body felt.
Jess shook his head to keep himself awake, but the motion wasn't strong enough to take effect. His horse carried him another thirty feet and then he began to sway in the saddle, his weariness overpowering his resolve with every blink of his eyes. Jess pulled on the reins and just as his mount's hooves came to a stop, Jess' body started to slide. He hit the ground with a groan, his face rubbing on the dusty trail as he tried to roll himself over, but the aching that wouldn't cease prevented his attempt. Jess lay still, the waves of exhaustion rolling over him until he drifted into a painless sleep.
It was the hot sun baking through the shirt on his back that finally woke him. Jess licked his lips and tasted the dirt that was caked into every dried crack around his mouth making him feel like he was as parched as if he'd been traversing a desert. His sleep hadn't brought an overwhelming feeling of relief, but it had rebuilt enough strength that he was slowly able to pull himself to his feet. Jess staggered with the first step, his hands spreading outward to help his balance and then he was able to turn a full, steady circle. Like the good horse Jess had trained him to be, his faithful mount stood a short distance away and Jess walked slowly towards him, speaking in gentle tones and then as he traced a hand across the horse's neck, Jess pulled his canteen free. Jess poured the warmed liquid down his throat and as it washed into his middle, the emptiness that was there immediately struck him with a sharp hunger pang.
Jess didn't even know how long it had been since he'd last eaten, but now it was past catching up with him. Falling from his horse had been from more than just exhaustion and Jess knew he wouldn't be staying in the saddle for long again if he didn't find some nourishment. He had left home in such a hurry that he hadn't taken the time to properly prepare for a hard journey, including not packing any necessary food provisions. He shoved his hand into his saddle bag, searching for anything that might have been leftover from the last overnight trip he'd taken and found some hardtack. It was like a rock, but at least it didn't have any weevils. Jess put the stone-like substance in his mouth and the bite that it took to break it returned a jab of pain to his jaw. The hardtack crumbled in his mouth and he chased it down with a swig from his canteen. It did little to satisfy him, but if it would carry him a little longer, it did its work.
The canteen now empty, Jess let his eyes wander ahead on the trail and he saw through a gap in the trees the shimmer of water. Taking his horse's reins in hand, Jess walked his mount forward on the trail and as he turned a bend, a small, welcoming lake met his view. After filling his canteen, Jess took another long drink and as the water dripped down his chin and onto his shirt, his eyes went with the water as it trickled down his front and then he let his gaze shift to the blood stain at his shoulder. Jess didn't need the visual to remind him it was there, but seeing it made him realize that just like his lack of food preparation, he hadn't taken the time to tend to his injury.
Jess unbuttoned his shirt and tried to pull it open near the knife wound, but the dried blood had made fabric and flesh nearly one. He winced with the pain that it caused as he put more pressure to rip the shirt open, but his attempt at freeing the wound only made the pain more intense. Water would help, Jess knew, and he stood still for a moment debating whether to dump the contents of his canteen directly over his shoulder. Yet, it wasn't just his freshest injury that needed to be cleaned, his entire body needed washing. Blood, sweat, dirt, and the smells that went with them were in more places than he wanted to count. Jess hesitated a moment longer, knowing that to accomplish the entire task at hand would mean getting almost fully submerged while getting almost fully undressed, since all that he had for clothes were what he wore. A wet shirt he could handle, but soaked jeans against his skin was not a feeling he had ever enjoyed, especially when his hind end would be meeting the saddle soon after. Jess shifted a leg as he looked down towards his pants and then he looked again at the inviting bath that was only a few steps away and he made the choice.
Even though he knew there shouldn't be anyone around in the hills for miles, Jess turned around three times before he fully convinced himself he was alone. Jess Harper wasn't the type of man to undress with an audience, as only his horse that had been with him for years had the rare privilege of watching such a scene unfold. Satisfied with his solitude, Jess unbuckled his gun belt and draped it over his saddle and then, leaning against his horse's solid form, he released his feet from his dust covered boots, the socks coming off a moment later. It had been Jess' choice to always clothe himself in something as formfitting as his jeans were, even though it took a little longer to wriggle in and out of them when it came time to do so, he wore them snug for a specific purpose. A gun belt fit most precisely around hips that were nicely shaped and smooth, as excess folds of oversized fabric could make the belt shift positions which hindered a skilled quick draw. Besides, he secretly knew this was how to get an extra glance his way from the ladies. Jess dropped the jeans to the ground and put a hand to his waist, touching the top seam of his long john's that were unevenly cut to rest just above his knees. These would wait to come off until the last moment, just in case.
Jess stepped towards the edge of the lake, the water moving slightly with a warm breeze that the sun flickered and danced in little bursts of light on its surface. He dipped a toe in, cold, as all mountainous waterways were, but not enough so that it would make him holler. Once he was up to his ankles, with another long stare in every direction, Jess stepped free from his underwear and tossed it precisely where the water met the dirt to be able to quickly step back in when he was through. Pushing his legs quickly through the deepening water, Jess didn't stop until the water was level with his waistline, and there he stood still, feeling the relaxing rolls of water surround him.
His shirt tails dangled in the water and the absorption started to make its way to his chest and Jess began to feel his skin start tingling near his jagged cut. Cupping handfuls of water over his sticky shoulder, Jess winced with every movement until the fabric finally pulled loose from his skin and once fully freed, the shirt was allowed to be dropped into the water until it sank, his foot finding it a moment later to keep it from escaping his position. Jess pressed a finger over the wound, grateful that there wasn't an intense heat radiating from the cut, but it still hurt enough to say a gritty "dad-gum" that echoed back at him from across the lake. Fresh blood trickled down his chest, but he repeatedly washed it away until only a trickle oozed from the center of the wound.
Jess sighed, wishing that there was a way that his internal wounds could be cleansed just as well, but not even the finest of soaps could make that painful part of him feel any better. He had an overwhelming emotion of guilt pricking him on the inside of his chest with almost the same severity as the knife that Virgil had stabbed him with. Jess felt responsible for the threat to Slim's life because it was a part of his personal past that was doing all of the damage, made worse that it was from a family of outlaws that never could quit causing harm.
Jess had wanted to track the McCanles gang after they fled the minister's house, but for Slim's sake, he let them go free. He didn't owe a single one of them any favors. It would have suited him just fine to see either their sorry hides strung up or locked behind bars for a long, long time. Troy, on the other hand, now that Jess knew she was gone, didn't wish a vile fate in the same manner as her pa and brothers, but at the time of her departure, never seeing her again had been a high incentive to not trail the family of outlaws to give them what they deserved. But it was his friendship to Slim that kept his feet planted at the ranch as Slim's bruised heart needed comforting. Jess couldn't help but mull over how everything now could have been different. Now that Ezra and his sons had worse intentions than ever before, Jess wished that he'd gone against his better judgment and put an end to them when he had the chance. If he had, they wouldn't be going after Slim at all. Slim would be safe, that is, until the next time something happened.
Jess knew that the McCanles gang was just a small chapter amongst a thickly written history book of his life. How many times since he'd put his roots at the Sherman ranch had Jess' past caught up with him and not only brought trouble to him, but to Slim as well? How many more times could it happen? Who else could end up at Slim's doorstep just because it was also home to Jess Harper? There were plenty of other men that he had a dark past with, some much more vile than the McCanles gang were. As long as there were wanted men with ties to Jess running loose, would Slim ever be fully safe?
Jess knew the answer and he dropped his head with grief. His reflection stared back at him, the ripples of the water not enough to blur his facial cuts and bruises that had been disregarded for a deeper hurt. He took a deep breath and then plunged his head into the water, the cold washing over his eyes and into his ears, but it couldn't clear his head from the tumultuous thoughts that hammered inside. Jess wiped his hands roughly over his face and then shook his head to fling the excess droplets out of his hair, knowing he needed to get back on the trail. His soaked shirt was plucked from the lake bottom and draped over his left shoulder as he exited the water, the long johns put back on the moment he stepped on dry ground.
While he dressed, as he hopped into the saddle and while his horse covered the ground as he tracked his enemy's trail, the same thoughts replayed in his mind. Everything about his former life kept causing Slim harm, and if not Slim himself, their friendship. There had already been instances where Jess' past had tried to separate them. How long until someone else rode in that had the power to place a permanent wedge between them? Slim's friendship meant everything to Jess, yet how much longer could it continue to get tested before something finally broke?
Jess' troubles would continue to come, one after another, to fight or to kill, but they'd come to an abrupt stop if he wasn't around. Slim wouldn't have to take the brunt of his consequences anymore, like he shouldn't be doing now. McCanles wanted Slim dead, of that Jess was certain and Jess would do everything in his power to stop him before he or his sons had the chance to even touch his partner. This harrowing journey might not be over in a day or even two, but when his fight with McCanles found its end, as long as Slim came out of it alive, Jess would have to make the most difficult decision of his life. It was time for him to move on. This decision wouldn't come without pain, for him or for Slim. Jess had been planted firmly on Sherman soil, his stakes driven far deeper than any outsider could see. Even though it would hurt to pull himself away and leave everything behind, it couldn't match the suffering that would come if because of him, Slim would die. Slim deserved a far better life than this, and Jess wanted to give it to him.