By the time Slim had finally come back in the cabin George and the rest of the men were playing blackjack. Slim took his place at the table.

"I think Candy's gonna be okay. Should be back in a little while after he quiets that dog down." the other men grunted in response, completely immersed in their card game. Slim sighed and reached over to take a sip out an abandoned beer can.

As Whit's turn came around he pushed his glasses up on his nose. He smiled slyly and proclaimed, "Hit me." George shrugged and dealt him a card.

Whit's smile faded and he slapped his cards on the table. "Fuck! Thought I had it!" The sound of Sugar's whining came echoing through the window. Carlson turned.

"Now whatdda suppose that is?"

Slim shrugged. "Probably jus' two cats fuckin' each other. Nothin' to worry about."

George re dealt the cards and looked from Carlson to Slim.

"Yeah," Carlson said, "you'd know somethin' bout that, wouldn't you?"

Whit laughed. George rolled his eyes. "Jus' because your gay don' mean that ya fuck cats, Carlson." he said.

Whit turned to him. "How would you know about that queer shit, George ol' buddy?"

He opened his mouth to respond, but Slim cut him off. "It's fine, George." he said as his spidery fingers twisted his black hair.

Carlson looked angry now. "What? 'It's fine George?! How is it fine that you like to be involved with men, Slim? How is that fine!"

Before he could answer a loud crash came from outside. Whit looked around nervously.

"What was that?"

"Probably the killer!" Carlson said excitedly as he jumped up out of his seat. "Ima go get my Luger!" and he ran off down the hall and into his room.

Whit looked sick suddenly. George turned to him. "It's probably not the killer, you know." Whit nodded then turned to Slim who was still playing with his long black hair thoughtfully.

"Listen, Slim. I'm sorry."

He looked up, his eyes confused. "Huh? What?"

As Carlson came running back down the hall, his trusty Luger in tow Whit said again, "I'm sorry Slim."

Slim's long, thin face smiled. It reminded George of a time when they were back on the ranch, and Slim had still been a skinner.

"S'fine Whit. Jus' do me a favor."

Whit swallowed nervously. "Y-yeah?"

"Get the hell outta my house." Slim said with a chuckle. Another crash came from the outside. Carlson grabbed Whit's shoulder and the two of them went outside. Once they were gone Slim's smile immediately disappeared into a look of exhaustion.

George sat on the other end of the table. Through the window the sun was beginning to set. Suddenly Slim sat up and his calm eyes stared at George.

"Wh-what is it Slim?"

"Oh nothin'...jus' Candy sure has been gone a long time..."

"You really think that L-L..." had George's grief gotten so horrible that he couldn't even say Lennie's name?

"Lennie?" Slim asked sympathetically.

George nodded. A lump was forming in his throat. It seemed like all of the grief that he had ever felt was about to pour out of him. His eyes teared up. Like they had the day that he had shot Lennie.

Slim sighed then patted his shoulder. "Yeah. I do. Like I told Candy, if it really is him, then he won't come after you to kill you. He loved ya too much for that."

George nodded again. "Yep. I know. I-I guess that I really loved that crazy bastard too. He was like my brother...."

"And you miss him. S'nothin to be ashamed of." From the outside there came a loud shot. Slim looked up and walked towards the window and gazed out. George wiped his nose and eyes on his jacket sleeve.

Slim turned back to him. "I think that I better go and see if they're okay." he said as he walked to the door.

George called after him, "Slim, be careful. If it is him...don' make him mad."

The other man nodded then went out the door.