Chapter Seven

Jess stood at the bedroom window, his eyes staring into the darkness of the night. He could see very little beyond the slight glow that the lamp provided outside of the pane, but he kept his gaze focused straight ahead, as if his attention was entirely focused on something specific that was out there. He did this to keep himself from seeing the picture that Jonesy and Andy made, although he knew the scene perfectly well without even looking. They were close to Slim's bunk, Jonesy standing next to Andy with both of his hands on the small shoulders, looking down at the still form on the bed together. It would tear another piece of Jess' heart to see them that way, and he didn't have many pieces left to be ripped.

There was a definite cold, desolate atmosphere in the room, marred only by the grief that emanated from the two bodies that huddled together by the bed. Jess could feel their mourning hearts from where he stood and since he was suffocating in his own feelings of sadness, likely they could feel his tortured heart too. The darkness pressed hard on Jess' eyes, but he kept them open, for in closing them for longer than just their normal blink, he saw too many scenes that haunted him. The sight of death would be hard to lose, even harder still, because this was his best friend.

Jess ran his hand across his thigh, surprised at how sweaty his palm had become. Nerves. He thought once his were made of steel, but ever since he'd found Slim in the road, he'd felt every one of them get challenged until they were on the verge of collapse. Despite everything that had happened and the myriad of emotions he'd faced, Jess was still that man with iron will, but he knew that losing Slim could completely destroy it. The fear of that loss had been knocking hard on his door, but as of that very moment, two entire days after the bullet went in, Slim still lived.

There had been no change. Jess had looked at Slim's body so frequently, lying there like a dead man, with only the slight movement as he took each breath, that its imagery when he turned away wasn't showing that little touch of life, but would pound in his temples of the opposite. He didn't know how much more of this he could take. Jess felt as close to his breaking point as he'd ever felt in his entire life. It became worse a second later by the breaking of the silence in the room.

"Jonesy?" Andy's voice was quiet, but not quite a whisper, yet it still seemed loud amongst the oppressiveness. "What does Slim feel?"

Jess balled his hands into fists at his sides, for the first time that day wishing he was anywhere but in that room. Andy's question was innocent, coming from a young, unknowing mind whose only experience with a dying man was seeing Jack Slade's life come to an end right in front of him. Slade had suffered in his final moments rather brutally during the attack of Ben Leach and his gang, with at least three different bullet holes that took him down. Considering the affect that memory had on the boy, it wasn't surprising that Andy wondered if Slim was feeling the same agony. Jess stole a glance towards Jonesy when he heard him shuffle a foot before answering. In a way, he needed to know the answer too.

"Well," Jonesy swallowed a couple of times and then along with his shuffling, glanced up at the ceiling, using this pause to find the right words to respond with. "I suppose Slim doesn't feel a thing. He's not much different than sleeping, just so deep that he doesn't feel any pain. I've never been in his condition, so I guess I can't say for certain, but I'd imagine that he's peaceful enough."

"So he's not suffering?" Andy looked into Jonesy's eyes for reassurance.

"No, Andy," Jonesy shook his head, giving Andy's shoulders an extra squeeze. "Slim's not suffering."

"We're the ones doing that," Jess said under his breath, staring out into the night once more, but neither Jonesy nor Andy could hear his remark.

"Come along, Andy," Jonesy started to lead the boy out of the room. "Let's get those dinner dishes washed and put away because I know that neither one of us is gonna want to do them come morning."

Alone again in the room, Jess pulled away from the window and sat on his bunk. Slim's face was turned more towards the door, so all Jess could see of him was the back of his head and his hair, which Jonesy had been keeping combed even though he hadn't moved since they'd placed him in that position. Jess ran his hand through his own hair and down over his unshaven cheek, knowing that Slim probably looked more presentable than he did.

"I guess that's the way it'll always be, Pard," Jess sighed. He spoke quietly, not loud enough that Jonesy and Andy could hear his voice from the kitchen, but with enough volume that it wasn't near a whisper. "You'll always be clean and well put together, while I'm, well, let's put it this way, I'll always have my dirt stains and holes, and that goes a lot deeper than what's on my clothes, but right down into my very soul."

Jess needed to speak, needed to talk to Slim even if he couldn't hear his heartfelt words. He had to release the tension that had built up so heavily in his soul, let go of some of the emotion and dispel some of his fears. If he was going through this torment and Slim wasn't on his death bed, Slim would readily offer to listen. He felt it would be no different now.

"This is rough, Slim," Jess said, wiping his hand up and down his leg, not anymore to wipe his damp palm, but displaying his anxiety. "I wish it were me lying there instead. Of course, then you'd be sitting here doing the blubbering instead of me, but I still wish it were me. I woulda taken that bullet for you, Pard. I reckon I'm a bit more, dad-gum, what's that word again? Awn-or-y. If that's it, then I'm a bit more of that than you are, so if I'd taken that bullet instead, I'd probably already be back on my feet and outside doing them chores that ain't getting done. But at least you take my awn-or-ees in good spirits. Come to think of it, you've accepted all my unruly qualities without complaint. I ain't met many that'd do that."

Jess wasn't exaggerating that what he was going through was hard. He could have started a list at that moment of all of the difficult things he'd done in his life and still be adding to its incredible length the next day, but nothing could compare with Slim's battle and what Jess endured in watching it. The torrent that raged like a violent thunderstorm in his soul was so relentless and severe, he knew if there was such a list created, this fight for life would be placed at the very top, being the very worst.

Jess knew pain, knew suffering, knew loss, and especially the worst kind of loss, right in the heart with family. He had felt incomplete for many years until recently, and Jess knew the exact timeframe when everything started to change. It was the day Slim welcomed him into his family, when the broken pieces that were inside of him started to be put back together. Jess took a deep breath to steady his somewhat shaky voice, his emotions being so intense he wasn't used to the feeling in his throat, and then he started revealing his thoughts out loud again.

"You've filled a hole in my heart that's stayed awfully empty since I was fifteen and maybe even before that. I had to do a lotta growing up pretty quick and I s'pose I missed out on some of the good growing years by being filled with hate. I was saved a bit in what mighta been my own destruction, harboring all that hate while I was taught by some interesting characters. My first friends away from home, Dixie Howard and Christy, both men were mighty alike appearance-wise and nature, also much older. Father figures or big brother types I reckon. Kinda made a kid like me starry-eyed to those that had already walked the road I wanted to be on. But I ain't seen either in a long time and don't know if I ever will again. There've been some others, but to be honest, Slim, I didn't know what a friend really was until I found a friend in you. You've been far truer than anyone else I've ever known. I reckon because you're the greatest man I've ever known. You're far greater than me."

Jess couldn't help but hear Slim saying inside of his head a regularly used phrase in the Sherman house, "no argument there," and he nodded his head up and down in agreement. Considering all that Slim had done for him, there was no doubt in Jess' mind that Slim was genuine and true, especially since there had been many times in Jess' past that he himself had been anything but those same descriptive words.

"You took a chance on a wild, wanderlust cowboy with the name of Jess Harper. Did you know that there are men in Texas and beyond that feared that name? I met up with some mighty tough hard-cases, and likely those same men probably said the same about me, but even with what you knew about me, you didn't put one of those labels on me like I wore in my gunslinger days. It mighta taken a shove or a punch to see past our first howdy, but once our tempers cooled, there was only one thing you decided to see in me. The title you wanted me to wear wasn't renegade, gunfighter or villain, but friend. I sure hope I've lived up to it, Slim, for sure as the sunrise, you've lived up to yours. Slim, I've never been much for making speeches so I don't reckon most of what I'm saying has made a lotta sense, course you ain't hearing none of it anyway, but I'd like to think that you are."

Something began to happen in the room, but Jess could not see it. The natural color of skin began to brighten on what had been an ashen, expressionless face. Senses were returning, first sound, then smell, followed by pain, although not an agonizing stab of it, and finally, eyelids that had been closed for too long were scrunched together before fluttering slowly until they came open. At first there was a strange sense of disorientation, but then returned a voice, a familiar, friendly voice and his ears latched onto its sound, letting the strength and the honesty in the words empower his weakened body to continue to pull from the depths of darkness into the welcoming light that was his life.

"You're no ordinary man, Slim," Jess started again, a very slight tug on his lips brought one corner upwards. "Course neither am I. Maybe that's part of what makes us such good friends. Doggone though Slim, for everything you've done for me, I still don't know why. You've stood by me, strengthened me, carried me. You saw the best there was in me. You found good in a scoundrel like Jess Harper. Why? What is so special about me?"

"The good in you wasn't hard to see, Jess."

Startled, Jess fell from his bed and landed on the floor with a thud, knocking his head against the corner of his bunk as he landed. He put his hand to his head, wondering if he'd fallen asleep and had dreamed of Slim's voice. It had seemed so real though, and yet, why else would he have rolled out of bed?

"Jess?"

"Slim?"

"What?"

"Slim!" Jess was around Slim's bunk so fast that he tripped, dropping to his knees by the head of Slim's bed. He saw his best friend's eyes open, cheeks with color in them and a mouth that was turned up into a smile. "Jonesy, Andy, come quick!"

"Jess, has he, oh no, I can't even say it," Jonesy walked hurriedly from the kitchen through the bedroom door, afraid of the worst, but one look at Jess' face and Jonesy knew his fears could be erased. He then turned towards Slim and there was his boy, a grown man yes, but his boy, alive and smiling. "Slim!"

"Slim," Andy pushed between Jonesy and Jess, burst into tears and put his arms around Slim the best that he could. "You're alive, you're alive!"

"Thank God!" Jonesy bent down and wrapped his arms around Andy, his weathered cheeks having enough moisture fall down them that the teardrops landing onto the bedding that covered Slim was a mixture of both old and young. "Did you know you gave me the scare of my life?"

"Everything's going to be all right now, Andy," Slim said soothingly. "I'm here."

Jess backed up slowly, feeling the need to escape. He inched backwards until he sensed the front door behind him and then he turned and hurried through. Jess hadn't stepped outside very far when his knees gave way, his hands reaching and successfully clutching the far end of the hitching post that stood just off the porch as he went down to the dirt. His clasped hands began to shake, the quivering coursing up his arms and into his shoulders until his whole body quaked as the desperation that he'd held captive rushed from his body. He groaned as the pain that had gripped his chest seemed to pump through his veins until it found an exit wound in his bleeding heart, only stopping when his pulse slowed down as the trauma had no more need to intensify, but to begin the process of healing. Not a single tear fell down his face, but the intensity of his relief was so great, he felt as if he'd shed a million of them.

No one knew what he'd just experienced for it was an emotional journey that he chose to share alone, but after he took a deep breath into his lungs, Jess felt strong once more. He stood, gave a long look towards the east with his thoughts not far from the man that had shot Slim, and then he returned to the bedroom to give Slim a proper, "welcome back, Pard."