Chapter Nine
Slim awoke just after the sun had said "good morning" to the land, stretching in his bunk as he opened his eyes. His fingers came up to his face to rub the sleep that still clung to him, but it was those same hands that blocked his view of the bed beside him, preventing him from noticing its emptiness. He rolled over, ready to get his body back into the motion of the ranch work that he'd missed and hoped his partner was ready to do the same.
"Are you planning on staying in bed all day?" Slim asked after a large yawn, his pause long enough for an answer to be given, but there was none. "Jess?"
It was then that Slim's head turned directions, his full attention now on the barren bed that was next to his own. There were a few questions that instantly came to mind, but none that held the caliber of concern that actually belonged there. The bed was too neatly made to even think for a moment that his partner had risen before the sun to start into the impressive workload that was ahead of them. It would have been more accurate to place a logical guess that Jess was still in his chair or stretched out on the couch. Slim knew that Jess was physically hurting more than he'd insinuated and likely carried an exhaustion to match and dropping to sleep in the other room could have easily happened, especially since it was an event that had occurred before. Slim rubbed a hand through his hair, almost dismissing Jess' absence in the bedroom, but his vision latched onto something across from where he sat, bringing the first alarm to ring in his head.
The top dresser drawer was slightly ajar, and even though their house was home to a couple of bachelors where neatness didn't always count, drawers, cupboards and doors were usually kept shut. Standing up and stepping close to it, Slim pulled the knobs to bring it completely open, but he wasn't prepared for what the action would bring. He might not have been wearing anything more than a top and bottom pair of long johns and a normal chill would be expected, but his body suddenly went as cold as if a north wind had just burst through an open door. Jess didn't own much, but what he did keep was usually folded, or better described as haphazardly stuffed, into that one small space. It was empty.
Slim stepped through the bedroom door, his bare feet covering the span to the front door in three strides. The peg that held Jess' hat, coat and gun belt stuck out from the wall, its unadorned presence that stood out among the others showed that it was strikingly alone. He opened the front door and leaned out and although everything appeared as it should on a normal morning, everything seemed strangely out of place. Even the chickens that ran around looking for their morning feed didn't have the same hilarious squawk to their throats. Slim shook his head, his mind reeling for answers, but none held any realistic sense. Slim turned back inside, his aim towards the bedroom but a quick glance to the fireplace made his chest give a hard thump with additional fear.
It took Slim an accentuated amount of time to cross the room as his bare feet moved as slowly as they ever had, but it was his hand that reached for the concealed cubby that seemed to move the slowest and it stopped still when his fingers touched the wooden bottom. The hidden gun, Jess' gunfighter's gun, the one that he'd worn on his hip the day that they had met one another, the starkest image of Jess' past, was gone. There was only one reason why the weapon would have been removed and Slim suddenly felt sickened that he'd just discovered its hard truth.
Slim returned to the bedroom, his eyes easily drawn to the only bed in the room that hadn't been slept in, the reality of what it really meant was hard for him to shake. He quickly dressed, as running around in his underwear had never been something he was accustomed to do, and then he strode outside. As Slim walked to the barn he held onto a small shred of hope that he would find Jess still there and even if he was intending to leave, for whatever reason he held in his mind for making an attempt, Slim knew if he had a chance he could talk his partner out of his decision. Jess had given him a scare on more than one occasion before, but Slim had always been there to persuade him to stay, because as they both had long ago learned, this was where Jess belonged. But as soon as Slim stepped through the barn door, those hopes were dashed. The stall that had held his horse was empty, swept clean of every trace of dirt, hay or manure, like it had never even been there. Jess, like his horse, like his gun, like everything that he owned, was gone.
"Why, Jess?" Slim turned around and promptly exited the barn. He stopped in the middle of the yard, his eyes scanning over every inch of land that he could see, but what he looked for, and the answer to his question, was nowhere in sight.
Slim walked into the house and sat down at the table. His hands coming into a fold, he dropped his head so that his mouth and nose touched his clasped hands, as his mind rapidly began to search for a clue as to why he was suddenly left all alone. The only recent evidence he had involved the McCanles gang, but he knew there would be nothing found in the center of a well fought gun battle. With nothing else to point to, Slim focused his thoughts on the last day that he'd shared with Jess, noting specifically the details of Jess' intentionally covered up emotions. The more Slim sharpened his focus on their ride home, he easily could visualize everything in a better view how Jess had been hiding something, and if he hadn't been going through his own torrent of emotional trauma at the same time, he could have touched on it more than he had. Jess had been quiet, his comments short without much tonal changes to his voice, his eyes had been dark, his face set in stone and his entire body, although sitting solidly on his horse, had seemed like he was stuck out on a rocky ledge. Even though Slim had found that there was truly something there in front of him, putting a finger on the identifying mark was a whole different thought process.
Slim knew Jess better than anyone else he'd ever known. They were more than best friends, more than partners, some stagecoach passengers had even mistaken them for brothers, although the way they felt towards one another, their assumptions were close to being correct. Slim knew that because of their tight relationship, he would have a greater chance at figuring out where the missing pieces of his puzzle should go than if he was trying to sort through anyone else's dilemma. But if there would be a hitch in putting it all together correctly, it would lay in the complexity that was the depths of Jess' character. Despite being best friends, there were parts of Jess that were still unknown and likely always would be.
There was one thing that was completely clear to see. Jess' loyalty ran deeper than anything else that worked around on his insides and Slim knew he could always count on Jess in times of trouble. Slim didn't have to probe too far into his past to know that Jess would protect him, shield him, or prevent any type of harm from coming his way. Jess had taken it upon his own shoulders more than once to fight Slim's battles, to make sure that when bullets stopped flying that Slim would remain healthy and strong, even if Jess himself was flattened in the battles. But it wasn't just at the height of danger that Jess displayed his devotion to Slim, but it was in the day to day normalcy of their lives as well. He'd used his own money for Slim's expenses, he'd gone without when Slim had gone without, he'd give his shirt off of his back if it was needed, he'd listened and learned and did his own amount of teaching in return. He was a good man and an even better friend. Surely Jess knew it as well, but then why did he leave?
Slim's mind kept returning to the faces of the McCanles gang, figuring that the family from Jess' past was at the center of what was changing their future. The only parts of the recent encounter with the outlaws that Slim had been involved with was the gunfight, leaving everything else put into a pile of the unknown. Something could have easily happened before the fight that Jess refused to mention that was affecting everything that happened after it was over. Slim knew that Jess had been on the worst end of the McCanles gang's wrath before they'd met up with him, giving them plenty of time to shove their vengeance down his throat. But Jess had not responded in fury because any threat that they had made to him directly, but what was aimed at Slim made him fully react. Had there been other threats made that Jess didn't bring to light? Yet, even if the McCanles gang had issued another threat to Slim's life it would have turned to nothingness with Ezra dead and his two sons behind bars. Who else could threaten him? There was no one else involved. Only Jess.
Jess' presence was the threat? Slim bit his lip, the truth so close that he could taste it and its bitterness made him shudder. Slim took a deep breath and as he slowly exhaled, the reason behind Jess' departure seeped out with it. Jess himself wasn't the threat, but his past was. And that was it. The answer didn't come to Slim with any gratifying emotion that he'd found what he was looking for, but what settled into his inner core, was sadness. In every hardship that Slim endured since welcoming a drifter into his home, with the McCanles gang sitting at the highest peak of it, Jess was blaming himself, but Slim didn't blame him at all.
"Oh, Jess, it wasn't your fault," Slim said aloud, although there was no way that the walls of his home could transfer the message across the wide stretch of land into Jess' ears.
Slim abruptly stood, shaking his head back and forth he began to pace the floor between the bedroom and the kitchen. There was no anger raging inside of him at Jess for taking off without first talking over his troubles. All of the other times that Jess had tried to run away from his past, leaving the ranch and the life that he'd grown to love behind him, he had never said goodbye, never left a message, with his only note being the final departure. Like those other instances, Slim understood Jess' reasoning, perhaps now more than ever before, but in that understanding there wasn't an ounce of willingness to let him go. All of Jess' past had become his present, but he wouldn't reject it, or his friend.
A familiar noise caught Slim's attention, bringing everything around him into a clearer focus beyond his own troubles. He stepped to the door and looked out, the first stage of the morning rolling down the slope to the house. Mose sat in the driver's seat, the familiarity of the sight telling Slim that work needed to be done, even if he didn't feel like swapping stories with the old timer or pouring coffee for any of the passengers, which Slim was thankful once the coach came to a halt, was only one. He intended to get the stagecoach back on the road as quickly as possible, but Mose being Mose, wouldn't step too far out of his way.
"Hear the news out of Casper this morning?" Mose asked, leaning his head closer to Slim's as he worked.
"How could I?" Slim asked with more bite to his voice than he intended. "You're the first stage through here."
"No point getting uppity," Mose harrumphed. "I just thought you'd be interested to know that one of them McCanles fellows escaped from jail in the night."
"What?"
"I thought I was the one with poor hearing," Mose rubbed his ear and then repeated the news to Slim, even more slowly than how it came out the first time.
"Homer or Virgil?" Slim held his breath as he waited for Mose to answer although he figured it probably didn't matter, since both men were equally as dangerous.
"Didn't hear that part, just that there was quite the ruckus," Mose answered, turning to look at Slim, but found that the rancher was walking away at a swift pace towards the barn. "Hey, aren't you gonna finish changing the team?" Mose stared at Slim's back for a few seconds, shaking his head with a frown when there wasn't an answer. He turned to the passenger of the westbound stage and shrugged as if the man that patiently waited had followed their conversation. "I guess not."
Slim readied his horse in the barn as the noises outside told him that Mose and the stagecoach were on their way to Laramie. Slim knew without any confirmation that the escaped McCanles was Homer. Virgil's injury, although not life threatening, would have kept him sidelined, although not so much that he couldn't aid in a jailbreak. Slim could almost see the two brothers conspiring together, one helping the other just so that one of them could run free to finish the vile deeds that they'd set out to do. It was no secret that the McCanles gang had staked their lives on the duties of revenge, but now it wasn't just the loss of Troy leading their family loyalties anymore, but their own father's death. They would want returned blood, but whose? Two bullets took down Ezra, and either one could be deemed as the fatal blow, but there was an additional factor that swayed the mark heavily in Jess' direction. Homer's hatred for Jess ran deep, if there was going to be a target, it would be fully placed upon Jess before it was thrown in his direction again.
Homer would be coming for Jess. Before this news had hit him square in the chest, Slim could only imagine how Jess had felt when he'd learned through Ben's whispered lips that the McCanles gang had found the secret to finding Slim, until now. He felt like his every step was taken through fire, steam rising from his head showing the heat that ignited into his being with nothing to squelch its burning. Jess was in danger and Slim responded in the same manner as Jess had reacted to his own threat, except that Jess had known right where to go. Slim still had to look at Jess' whereabouts with a mysterious question mark as his prone to wander friend could have ridden anywhere.
Slim mounted, knowing that before he could leave he needed Jud back at the ranch, but after he knew his job at the relay station was in good hands, Slim turned his horse in a straight course, riding steadily northward. Jess could have gone in any direction, but there was only one direction that Homer would be taking, south. If Jess headed north, there would be no need for the fugitive outlaw to search very hard for the man he was after, as a collision course was likely what would enfold. If he was wrong about Jess going north, Slim knew the consequences would be that he would have to face Homer alone, but that anxious thought didn't keep residence in his mind for long. What really mattered was Jess. If he'd gone south, east, west, or any of the invisible lines in between, Jess' safety was certain and no matter what it would take, Slim intended for it to stay that way.
Jess' life meant everything to Slim, just as Jess had shown how important Slim's life was by the sacrifice he was willing to make for him. Slim had his own motivation going strong inside of him, as he was willing to face Homer alone for the life of his partner. But the farther Slim took his mount in a northerly direction, the more he began to realize that alone on the path he would not remain, as an obvious fresh trail leading off of the northernmost tip of his ranch was clearly laid out in front of him.
There was a place on the trail, a location that for one man, still pointed to the south, for another man, a fair piece ahead to the north, and yet for the third man, it was a resting spot. There weren't equal proportions separating each, for the one to the north was decidedly closer than the one to the south, but a common factor that was shared was that no one knew that the others were anywhere near, but once certain presence was made known, the place would become dangerously significant on otherwise ordinary ground.
He had fled from his troubles in the night and as the hours wore on without sleep, the exhaustion that weighed him down threatened to topple him out of the saddle. Already taking a fall in the same plight before, despite that it was a central part in the afternoon, he stopped his traveling to find some rest, even if sleep wouldn't fully touch him. Jess laid on the ground without his bedroll, his head barely propped up by his arms that were underneath him and as he closed his eyes, he thought of Slim. His partner would be fully aware of his absence and Jess couldn't help but wonder what range of emotions had settled upon Slim's already worn out shoulders. He knew what it had done to himself. The burden, the fatigue and the pain, both seen and unseen, had weakened him and it was enough that he found deep darkness. An hour into his sleep, he was no longer alone.
He had found a horse to steal, not the strongest of mounts, but one that would get him to a distance of twelve miles outside of Laramie, but what he'd just stumbled upon made the continued trip no longer necessary. The man held no weapon, since it was from a jail cell that he'd broken free from where guns and ammunition were withheld, that is, except for what he could ball into fists. There was enough retaliation in just those two hands that they could be considered as powerful as a bullet, knife or rope and he would use them, in any way he could to get what he wanted. Homer smiled wickedly, for the situation couldn't have played out any more perfectly as the one he wanted the most was right in front of him. It was the middle of the day, yet his victim was sound asleep.
The rider continued a well paced trek to the north, his eyes constantly searching for something that didn't belong as his ears listened for anything that would break the uncomfortable silence that surrounded him. He had a strange feeling that something was about to go wrong, like how a man often felt a quiver run up and down his spine just before being attacked, but it was not for his own being that the trepidation was for. Slim hurried forward, his heart pounding hard in his chest as he covered the land, fearing that his partner was still too far ahead of him to save.
From where he sat poised in waiting, Homer flexed his hands open and closed, the time of his vow ready to be fulfilled. He crept from his position, his every step taken in slow, silent strides he didn't stop until he stood over Jess Harper's still body. His next move was performed in the memories of those that he'd lost as his clutched hands struck forcefully alongside of an unsuspecting head, drawing blood with the violent blow. His hands, now ready to kill, wrapped tightly around the neck, cutting off the vital flow of air, and the ultimate fight had begun.
But the fight would never be won or lost alone. From a short distance behind where the two men struggled, a single shout ripped through the air, "Jess!"
