Chapter 25 — REMORSE

"People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but

people will never forget how you made them feel." (Maya Angelou)

As Jonesy returned to the kitchen with Andy in tow, Sally was adding a little hot tea to the already-warmed brandy in a white china mug. She struggled to hide her concern… the boy's face was absolutely blank, his eyes lifeless.

"Andy... you could do with a clean-up..."

Turning like an automaton, the boy headed for the washroom.

"Has he said anything?" Sally whispered.

"No. He's too rattled. First thing we need is to get him an' Slim off by themselves so they can talk."

"I'm sure he'll want to see Jess first…"

"If we're lucky, Jess'll be passed out," Jonesy said glumly. "Too bad we can't put a twitch on 'im when he needs doctorin'."

Sally shrugged, grinning. "Once he gets on the outside of this he shouldn't give us too much trouble. You need a better hiding place for your hooch, Jonesy!"

Jonesy leaned over for a sniff. "Whew! That oughta do it!"

"Laudanum would've been better but we seem to be out."

Andy returned looking somewhat refreshed and the trio repaired to the bedroom.

Slim was sitting right where Sally'd left him, maintaining pressure on Jess' leg. "You sure took your time," he groused, only partly in jest. "We were just about to get up a game of checkers..." Jess' eyes were closed.

"How's he doing?" she asked, ignoring the barb.

"Hanging in there but starting to wander a little."

Pale but composed, Andy went around to the other side of the bed and knelt down, clasping Jess' left hand in his and raking the others with a defiant glance that challenged any commentary about childish gestures. Slim's eyes flickered to his little brother. He so wanted to hug the boy and assure him everything was going to be all right… but…

Just then Jess' eyelids blinked open. He craned his head first towards Slim then toward Andy as if to reassure himself of their live presence even though both were maintaining physical contact.

"We're right here, pard. Rest easy," Slim said.

Jonesy and Sally exchanged glances in mutual recognition of the emotionally-charged atmosphere. The display of compassion on Slim's part confirmed the presence of a thoroughly established affection that persisted in spite of their recent divisiveness. Slim was hurting, too... but he was more concerned for Jess' welfare than his own. Whatever the reasons for his recent animosity towards Jess, they were inconsequential at this moment.

Jonesy held Jess up while Sally coaxed him into downing the alcohol-laced tea to the last drop. In the meantime she caught Slim's eye and inclined her head ever so slightly toward Andy, willing Slim to get the message.

"Slim… Jonesy and I need room to work," Sally commented. "Why don't you and Andy go the kitchen. Keep as still as you can and keep pressure on that shoulder until we can get to you."

He got it. "Yeah… I think you're right." Slim stood up stiffly and gestured to his brother. "Come on, Andy. There's nothing we can do to help and anyway we're just in the way."

Clearly Andy wasn't wanting to leave Jess' side.

Sally decided a verbal nudge was in order. "I'd sure be grateful if you could keep your brother company and maybe keep him from moving around too much before he loses any more blood than he already has."

Reminding Andy of the fact that Slim was also hurt seemed to resolve his dilemma. He stood up. "Yes, m'am."

Sally gently closed the door behind them. While waiting for the brandy to work its magic on Jess, she and Jonesy set to work sponging off the majority of the coagulated blood. He hadn't quite gone under when Jonesy uncapped the bottle of carbolic solution and soaked a gauze pad. "Brace yourself, son... this is gonna sting some..."

Jess submitted to Jonesy's ministrations with uncharacteristic meekness, at one point losing consciousness for a few minutes. Jonesy seized the opportunity to swab and irrigate the wound. He was tying off the dressing by the time Jess started coming around. Making a feeble attempt to push himself up onto his elbows, Jess fell back, grimacing.

"Leg hurts... broke again?"

"No, Jess... you were shot." Sally had a firm grip on his ankle, preventing him from moving the leg. "Be still."

"Oh... yeah... that's right..."

He clutched at Jonesy's sleeve. "Did I get 'im?"

"Well, he's as dead as he's ever gonna be," Jonesy answered evasively. Now wasn't the time for a lengthy explanation.

"Thought I missed the second one..."

"No... he's history, too."

"Good." Seemingly satisfied, Jess closed his eyes again.

Yes… Slim'd got the message loud and clear—his little brother was in desperate need of assurance that he wasn't some kind of soulless monster. He made a conscious effort to pull his thoughts together. The discussion they were about to undertake couldn't be put off, despite his own pain and light-headedness. Instead of adjourning to the kitchen table as Sally'd suggested, he motioned toward the rockers flanking the fireplace. With a fresh towel in place and a folded blanket draped over the rocker's back to protect the cushions from bloodstains, he settled in.

Unasked, Andy added a few sticks of wood to build up the fire before claiming the facing rocker. Unable to look at Slim directly, his eyes jerked from one focal point to another in the room.

The subject of shooting and killing someone wasn't one that Slim'd ever contemplated having to address with Andy… and he damned sure didn't want to be doing it now. But here they were… He thought bitterly about how he'd already fallen down on one of his responsibilities as the boy's guardian, and how he couldn't afford to let that happen again. He should've been the one having the birds-and-bees talk with Andy at the appropriate time… but he'd waited too long and Jess'd done it for him. Not in the way Slim would've preferred. For damned sure he wouldn't approve of Jess' version of justification(s) for bloodshed.

"Andy… look at me. Let's talk about it…"

The youngster's gaze roamed the room for another minute before finally engaging.

"I shot that man," Andy said flatly. "He's dead."

"I would've done exactly the same. So would Jess."

"I feel kinda sick... and my head's full of... noise." The boy's eyes were suspiciously bright and his lower lip was trembling. "Is it... normal... to feel that way?"

"In a perfect world there'd be nothing normal about taking another man's life. But we don't live there, Andy," Slim answered softly. "To answer your question... it's normal to want to protect yourself and the people you care about. It's normal to want revenge for harm done... or wanting to stop someone from doing worse. It's normal to feel bad about killing someone—even if he deserves it."

"Does it ever go away, this feeling?"

"You mean… not believing you did this, wishing it'd never happened?"

"Yeah… I guess so…"

"You want justification for having done it, you're still angry... and you're feeling guilty because you're glad he's dead."

Andy's mouth dropped open. "That's it! Exactly! How did you know?"

"Because that's how I felt the first time. You want to hear about it?"

Andy nodded mutely.

"I was fifteen. Pa and I'd signed on with a cattle drive because we needed the money. We were hit by a raiding party—white men, not Indians. Pa handed me the shotgun and told me to stay put behind the chuck wagon… but if one came close, don't hesitate to blow him out of the saddle. I did what he said… and one of 'em did come close enough. But what happened was I hit his horse square in the chest. It went down and trapped the rider practically right at my feet… I didn't know how bad he was hurt, but he was still conscious…" Slim shuddered and look away briefly. "I'll never forget the look on that man's face right before I shot it off."

"How come you never told this before, Slim?"

"I try not to think about it… had nightmares for years. Ma and Pa had a flaming row over it and she never let me go on a drive again. But see… we had no choice—those men were aiming to kill all of us and take the whole herd."

"I guess you won, huh?"

"If you call losing four of our own a win—one killed outright and three wounded… they died before we could get 'em to the nearest town. Two of the raiders got away and the rest were killed or wounded. The really awful part was that some of our men went around and shot the wounded raiders in the head. Anyway, afterwards I threw up behind the chuck wagon and then cried all night. Pa caught me and lit into me, making it worse. Jonesy was there… he can verify everything I've told you."

Andy was looking a little green. "I almost wish you hadn't told me, now."

"The reason I did is to so you'll understand that sometimes you have to do things you don't want to do… that you wouldn't do under ordinary circumstances. Believe me… I saw a lot worse during the war—things that made me vomit and cry as a grown man. But I got past it and so will you."

"I won't… I'll never forget…"

"No. You won't.

"You know what's really scary, Slim?"

"What?"

"How easy it was..."

Slim hunched his shoulders and winced. "Everyone's capable of violence, Andy. We just don't know that until something happens to drive us to it."

"I wish I could forget it."

"Me, too. But it doesn't work that way. That memory goes to join all those other bad ones you wish you didn't have, but it leaves a scar on your mind as permanent as one on your body. Life goes on and you'll be too busy to think about it unless something happens to bring it up again."

"Will I have to go to jail?"

Slim's eyebrows shot up. "What? No… of course not. Sheriff Corey'll want to know what happened but you're not at fault here. That man would've ended up on a scaffold eventually. Jess's right about one thing—you can't always count on a judge and jury to decide when a man needs killing. Don't repeat that to anyone, though!"

Slim was starting to fade around the edges… not so much from the wound itself, which was relatively minor, but the accumulated stresses of the day so far… and there was a lot of day and a lot of chores left. He tried not to let it show, feeling there was much more to be said, but Andy noticed anyway and stood up anxiously.

"Can I get you anything? Water… coffee?"

"No thanks… I'm good. Well… not good good but I'll manage…"

Jess was awake. "What happened to Slim?" He tried to sit up, but didn't get far with Sally serving as an anchor chain on his right arm. His face was white and strained and he'd broken out in a clammy sweat.

"Caught a ricochet in the shoulder," Jonesy said. "Not for you to worry about... you just need to lay still 'til Young Doc gets here."

Sally was acutely awareof Jess' self-imposed dedication to maintaining a brave front in the face of adversity... to never displaying weakness if he could possibly avoid it—especially not in front of Andy. She also understood that, to some extent, Slim shared this determination. But there were limits to her patience.

"I'm gettin' up!" he countermanded angrily.

Sally hissed at him. "I swear, if you set one foot on the floor I will beat you to a bloody pulp! I mean it, Jess… do not get up or we'll tie your hands to the bedposts."

"I... uh..." Never knowing for sure when Sally was serious, Jess stopped struggling.

"That's better. Jonesy and I have to go out there and take care of Slim. I'll send Andy back in to keep an eye on you."

Slipping out the bedroom door, Sally was pleased to see Andy looking both sad and worried… anything was better than the hollow shell of a boy who'd come in earlier! But before letting him go to Jess, she took him aside.

"He doesn't know what happened to… the second man. Now's probably not a good time to bring it up. All he knows is that the man's dead, understand?"

"Yes m'am. I understand. I won't talk about it."

"Or whatever you and Slim've been discussing, either?"

"No m'am. Not that, either."

Jonesy'd gone ahead to prise Slim out of the rocker, decreeing that the easiest way to get at the injured shoulder would be with him straddling a chair at the kitchen table, directly under the lantern for best visibility. They got him installed just as his legs started to buckle.

While peeling off Slim's now blood-soaked shirt, Sally tried to dismiss the image of Andy's woeful face, Sally thought about her own eight-year-old son. Was there any hope that—by the time Jacob was Andy's age—civilization might have advanced to a point where children weren't forced into killing to survive... as they'd been as recently as six years ago in the waning years of the war? A stifled moan reeled her attention back to Slim, facedown on arms folded across the top rung of the chair while Jonesy tentatively probed to gauge the depth of the bullet.

"Can you get at it?"

Jonesy shrugged. "If I have to... but I'd druther wait an' let Young Doc do it."

"There's no guarantee Fred's even available... and it'll be at least another three or four hours before anyone can get here..."

"Slim... what do you wanna do?" Jonesy asked.

Slim raised his head slightly, forcing the words out. "Go ahead. Done it before."

Thirty minutes later with the projectile successfully extracted, Sally and Jonesy plugged a groggy bandaged Slim back into the rocker by the fire. Propped with pillows stuffed under both arms and covered with a blanket, he drifted into a brandy-induced stupor. Sally returned to the bedroom to find Jess sitting up, more or less alert with Andy somewhere between distressed and aggravated. Either he was in urgent need of the outhouse or Jess'd been giving him a hard time.

"Sorry, Miss Sally. I couldn't make him stay down. Can I go now?"

"I suppose so..."

The boy rabbitted out the door and Sally glowered at Jess. "You'd better not've been ugly to him..."

"He wouldn't tell me nothin'," Jess claimed sullenly. "Just sat there like a lump. Ain't like him."

"He's had an unusually stressful morning, Jess. He doesn't need crap from you, too."

"Somethin's goin' on an' won't nobody tell me nothin'."

"Because there's nothing to tell, numbskull!" Sally was exasperated beyond measure. "God only knows why you put yourself out there in harm's way... and got yourself shot. Matt's sore but he'll be fine. Those cowboys are on their way to jail. The Chinese men are dead. Andy's in a state. We've all missed lunch and I've had enough of your shit!"

"Are you done? 'Cause I'm gettin' outta this bed!" Defiance pouring from every pore, Jess swung his legs out, steadying himself with a hand on a bedpost.

"Fine! Good! Knock yourself out... which you probably will. See if I care!"

Sally's voice had risen to an alarming degree that brought Jonesy shuffling across the parlor.

"Hey... what's goin' on in... OOF!" Colliding with Sally storming out of the bedroom, Jonesy was nearly bowled over.

"Sorry... sorry. You okay?"

"Yeah... but my toes'll never be the same. What's all the yellin' about?"

"That boneheaded mule in there won't listen to reason. Determined to get up no matter what!"

"But he can't walk... he'll hurt himself!" Jonesy attempted to get around her but she barred his path.

"I say let him try. He'll find out right quick he isn't invincible."

As she spoke a hand grappled the doorframe behind her, followed by a sheet-white face as Jess hopped out on one foot and reached for the next support point—the top of Slim's rolltop desk.

"Get outta my way," he wheezed.

Sally backed up two steps, still preventing Jonesy from rendering assistance. Jess gave them a sour look as he gauged distance from the desk to the parlor table. Rallying himself, he made a lunge for it and missed, instead connecting with a chair and crashing to the floor, chair and all, at the feet of the spectators.

Reckon this was a bad idea.

Not all Jess' reflexes were on hiatus. Twisting cat-like to avoid landing on his injured leg, his left hip and shoulder bore the brunt of the fall. Whatever pain had receded in the past two hours came flooding back at double the intensity, enough to take his breath away. His thigh felt like there was a red-hot poker stuck in it. Though he didn't black out, his vision went blurry with tears and there was a buzzing in his ears. An entire minute ticked by while he tried to decide if he'd broken anything else.

Who's that talkin' behind me? They sound far away... like in a tunnel. I need to blow my nose.

"We can't just leave 'im there..." Jonesy's voice.

"Oh yes we can." Definitely Sally's.

"But..."

A face loomed over him. "His eyes are open. He's breathing. No blood I can see. He got down there by himself. He can figure out a way to get up by himself..."

Cold-hearted bitch.

"Why're you bein' so mean to 'im all of a sudden, Sally?" Jonesy again.

"I'm not. I'm just tired of pandering to men who can't be bothered to use common sense and the brains nature gave 'em. That man there should've known better than to try on a gunfight in his condition. He should've known better than to try to walk with a fresh wound in his leg. It's his own stupid fault he's laid out on a cold floor. Maybe after he's had time to think on it he'll be grateful it isn't a marble slab!"

How can she talk that long without takin' a breath?

"How long you aim to leave him there?"

"Until hell freezes over for all I care!"

"Aw... you don't mean that! Can I at least get him a pillow 'n a blanket?"

"No. You may not. Come along... we have work to do." Jess twisted his head up enough to see two pairs of legs walking away.

Looks like she really means it. Why's Jonesy lettin' her boss 'im around like that? Just wait'll I'm on my feet... I'll give that woman somethin' to be mad about! But first... I gotta get up...

Trying to get up on his hands and knees, Jess speedily arrived at the conclusion that that method wasn't going to work—his right leg wasn't cooperating. He then tried rolling over to his right side. The pressure on his damaged thigh was agonizing and he bit back a cry of pain—or at least he thought he'd squelched it. If only he could reach something to pull up on...

"What in hell's name are you doin' down there? Aren't you supposed to be in bed?"

Jess turned his head up to see Slim's woozy face gazing down at him in consternation. In sheer vexation he banged his head on the floor. Could his predicament get any worse? What else could possibly go wrong? His leg was still stiff and unbending and now had a hole in it. His trigger finger still wasn't as limber as it needed to be. The scab on his shoulder from the glass shard was itching. And now his head was ringing. He closed his eyes and sighed. The floor was cold and so was he.

"What?" Slim's voice.

Jess opened his eyes again. "I didn't say anything."

"Yes you did. It sounded like fu..."

"UP... I need help gettin' UP."

There... I admit it. She's right. She's always right, dammit. I can't walk by myself an' I can't get up by myself. I'm hurtin' so bad I can't think on anythin' else but not hurtin'.

Two minutes later—although it seemed like an hour—Sally returned to the parlor and towered over him, hands on hips.

"Give up yet?"

Jess took a very deep breath and attempted to look appropriately contrite... not easy to accomplish when you're supine on the floor and looking up someone's nostrils.

"Uncle," Jess finally ground out.

Sally grinned. "Alrighty then... Jonesy, come here a minute..."

With Jess installed in the other rocker, pillowed and blanketed, he and Slim formed bookends at either side of the fireplace, glaring at each other balefully.

Sally disappeared into the kitchen, returning with sponge, towels and a basin of warm soapy water. Placing the items on the ottoman, she pulled up a straightback chair.

"What are you doing?" Slim asked suspiciously.

"I'm about to wash some feet."

"We havin' a revival or somethin'?" Jess inquired.

"No Jess. It might have escaped your attention, but after roaming the yard and the barn in your bare feet you've acquired a uniform coating of mud, hay and chicken shit. Not to mention horse and cow. You're not getting back in bed with those feet!"

"I ain't gettin' back in bed, period."

"Well... we'll just see about that, won't we?"

Why do women always gotta have the last word?

But he let her wash his feet.

A knock at the front door produced Mild Bill. He and Opie were loaded up and ready to roll. Did Miss Sally have any instructions or messages for town? The old man looked over her shoulder curiously. Sure was odd to see both Slim and Jess snugged up in rockers by the fireplace in the middle of the day. But hey… that was better than seein' 'em laid out on the floor with blankets over their faces!

"I'll walk out with you," Sally said.

As Bill took his place beside Opie in the driver's seat, she handed up a wad of bills.

"What's this for, Miss Sally?"

"You boys've earned a night on the town and then some. This is on me. After you drop off the live jackasses at the jail and chuck out the dead ones at the undertaker's, leave the rig and the horses with Avery at my stable and get yourselves a hotel room..."

Bill tried to hand back the money. "Oh no, m'am. We aim ta be back afore dark in time fer chores... won't make the four o'clock stage, though."

"You'll do no such thing. Stop by Bartlett's... tell Mister Garland what happened and ask if I can borrow Tommy for the afternoon. Between us we can handle whatever needs to be done..."

"You sure?" Bill seemed doubtful.

"Off you go! You might pass Sheriff Corey or Doctor Whatleigh on the way in... Jonesy told Mose to let both of them know what happened as soon as he hit town. Oh... by the way... which one of you made that righteous kill from the loft?"

The two old men looked at each other, mustaches twitching.

"I were up there, Miss Sally," Opie admitted, "but I weren't the one nailed that buzzard... it were that Kim fella."

"Kim? Are you sure it wasn't your shot?"

"No, m'am. I mean yes, m'am... I didn't even get a chance to get one off."

"Neither did I, Miss Sally..." Bill added. "I was gonna... but the boy ran right out in front a me afore I could draw a bead... we sure 'nuff didn't earn this money." He tried to hand it down but Sally backed away, hands up.

"Doesn't matter whether you did or didn't get the shot... you backed us up and that's what counts. You might be retired but you two gents still got juice!" Mild Bill and Opie drove off, beaming at her praise and basking in the glory of her smile.