IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH

CHAPTER 34

In the days that followed, Jess' health worsened every day. Faithfully attended by George, he could go out on the terrace for a few moments as long as the weather was good but these trips out into the fresh air exhausted him so much it took hours for him to recover.

Dr. Tyler probably could have forbidden these small excursions, but he didn't. As a physician, his task now was to prevent Jess from sinking into lethal depression. There was nothing more medical treatment could do.

A few days after Christmas George and Jess were at the end of a garden chess game that had been going on for several days. George was moving Jess' figures as well as his own because Olaf was busy elsewhere, but he noticed how difficult it was for Jess to concentrate on the moves. His alarm increased when Jess complained of being cold despite the warmth of the sun on the flagstones of the sheltered garden and the reading of the large thermometer by the back staircase.

George looked at his patient more closely and said, "You might have a fever. I suspected something like that this morning."

"Nah," Jess said. George could barely hear him.

"You look exhausted today."

"I'm just tired - but I am cold."

George walked over to him and laid his hand on Jess' forehead, but his forebodings were already confirmed by Jess' over bright eyes. "You have a fever! A high one!" He immediately took off his own coat and threw it around Jess' shoulders. "Come on. We need to get you in bed."

"I think you might be right," Jess said weakly.

George threw his arm around him and led him back toward the house. Jess held onto the assistant with all of his remaining strength as a pain stabbed through his chest. It was followed by another violent coughing attack. He fell to his knees, but George lifted him up and got him into his room and into bed.

Jess shook all over as repeated waves of cold chills wracked him. George raised the adjustable bed so that his patient was propped up into a half-sitting position, but Jess still struggled for breath even though George directed the ventilation system toward his sweat covered face. He rolled around the bed in agony as George pulled the bell at the top of the bed to summon Doctor Tyler.

"I'm suffocatin'!" Jess choked out as George took hold of him to prop him up.

"You'll be alright! Don't talk. Just try to breathe evenly!"

"That hurts...so...much!"

"I know. But try to breathe evenly. Doctor Tyler is on his way. Just take slow, even breaths! I'm right here with you!"

Jess couldn't do it. His weakened body succumbed to the fever and pain and lack of oxygen. He fell into a semi-consciousness and was barely aware of Doctor Tyler's examination or of the infirmary equipment George quickly set for the doctor's use.

After his examination, Tyler decided to use quinine to help control the fever. He had George mix up the bitter-tasting medication and told him to add some laudanum to it. When George handed him the beaker, Tyler held it up to Jess' lips saying, "This will help with the fever and the pain. It takes a moment or two to take effect, but it will help you sleep. When you wake up, you will feel better."

"It...won't be...much longer, will it?" Jess whispered, his face ashen and twitching with pain.

"You'll be alright, Jess," Tyler assured him with as much confidence as he could muster, but his face was solemn. "Just relax, now. George will stay with you."

The doctor waited patiently on the side of the bed until the soothing medicine took effect. Jess didn't try to resist it. He was glad that the pain was lessening and welcomed the heaviness that spread over his body. It was a relief to fall asleep.

"He's dying, isn't he?" George asked Tyler.

"Yes," Tyler said in a subdued voice. "I can't help him. That was clear to me from the very beginning. He knew it, too, but he came here anyway."

"I think he wanted to spare his people at home."

"I'm sure of that. I wish I could have helped him. Now the only thing I can do is numb his pain and make his death as easy as possible."

"Do you want me to notify Slim Sherman?"

"No, not yet." He looked down at Jess asleep on the bed. "I think it's time to do that, but I know Jess doesn't want it. I don't agree with him about that but it is his right, and I have to respect his wishes. Jess would see it as a betrayal of his trust. He's a man of great sensitivity. I suppose we shouldn't disappoint him in his last few hours." The doctor frowned, unsure of his decision. Then he took a breath and looked at his assistant. "Take good care of him, George. Check his breathing and his heartbeat on a regular basis and keep me informed of any changes. Maybe I can give him a few more hours. I don't want anyone to accuse me of not having done everything humanly possible."

"I won't leave him," George said, looking sadly at the man on the bed.

Despite the doctor's worst fears, Jess' fever was controlled with the quinine. He regained consciousness, but he was so weak he couldn't get out of bed. His attacks of pain and coughing were treated with Tyler's medications and were eased by the excellent ventilation system installed throughout the house. George was constantly with him, bathing him, shaving him, helping him eat and drink, responsive to his every need. Jess was too weak to protest. Helped by the calming effect of the medications, he even seemed to experience a kind of peace.

One morning George settled Jess back into bed after putting fresh sheets and blankets on it. He smiled at his patient and said as cheerfully as he could, "You know what, Jess? I'd like to finish our chess game."

"No point in it," Jess whispered, unable to speak normally. "And you know it. I should've put a stop to this before it got this bad."

"Don't talk like that! It wouldn't have been right."

"I'm goin' to die soon. You... could make it... easier for me."

"No! I won't do that! In fact, I'll make it as hard as possible. You said you were a bad loser. I am, too." He dabbed a wet cloth over Jess' sweaty temples. "You've come this far. You can't let a little fever stop you now."

"It ain't just a little fever I'm up against and...I ain't... givin' up,... Just... facin' facts."

Jess gasped. Talking so much had set off the pain in his lungs. George picked up the stethoscope and put it to Jess' chest and then to his neck to listen to the pulse. He knew without using a thermometer that the fever was rising again and that it was time for another dose of quinine. Jess sipped the bitter medicine without even asking if laudanum had been added. He didn't care anymore. If it helped him go to sleep and not wake up again, that would be fine with him.

He dozed and the pain eased, but he didn't fall asleep. Instead, his eyes opened and he said hoarsely, "George, would you promise me something?"

George, sitting next to the bed, was startled, thinking Jess was sleeping. He leaned closer and said, "Sure, Jess. If I can."

"When Slim...comes to take me...home...don't tell him what I'm goin' through… he'd just feel guilty…"

"But he's your friend. He would want to know…"

"I ain't got the strength to explain… Just promise me…"

George covered Jess' slack hand with his own. "Of course, I will. I promise. But it won't be necessary for him to come," he said softly.

"Yeah..., it will…"

The medication finally took full effect, and Jess slept for a few, pain-free hours. George stayed by his side, only taking a break to eat lunch while Doctor Tyler took his place. While the assistance was in the kitchen, Olaf arrived from town with the day's mail. There were several bills, medical journals, a box of chemicals, a fashion catalog for the cook, and a letter from the Sherman Ranch.

In addition to the telegram he'd sent when he first arrived, Jess had managed to write three letters home. For Jess, this was an achievement. Letter writing was not his favorite thing to do, and his handwriting was not the best, but letters came for him from Laramie on a regular basis. Sometimes, they made both George and Jess laugh, especially when they read something Mike had written, but they often seemed to make Jess sad. Today, when George saw the letter from the Sherman Ranch lying on the kitchen table, he lost some of his appetite. Reading it probably wouldn't make his patient feel any better. He carried the letter with him when he went back upstairs.

An hour later Jess woke up, groggy from the medication and still feverish.

"Feel better?" George asked, leaning over him to wash off his face and check his vital functions with the stethoscope.

"A little," Jess said and drank the water George offered him.

"Olaf brought the mail from town," George said. "There's a letter for you." He laid the envelope like a precious gem directly on the sheet in front of Jess.

Jess hesitantly reached for it, his hand trembling as he held the letter up to read the address which Mike had written in his very best script so that there could be no mistake or delay in the delivery.

"It's from Mike," Jess said, a wistful smile crossing his sunken face. "I bet you he's goin' to tell me... that Daisy nearly fainted... when she got that sewing machine at Christmas."

"I'm sure she was happy about it."

"Yeah…"

"While you read that, I'm going to get Liz to bring you something to eat."

"I ain't hungry."

George ignored him and went out in the hall to call for Liz to bring Jess' lunch up to his room. He came back with a tray of food, set it down on one of the tables, and cranked up the bed so Jess was in a sitting position, but Jess lacked the strength to eat by himself. He had no appetite anyway. George gently encouraged him to eat and helped him with the spoon until his patient ate some of the food. When he cleared the tray away, he noticed the envelope lying unopened on the bed covers. Jess hadn't had the strength to open it.

"You haven't read the letter," he said, surprised. "Do you need me to open it up for you?"

Jess nodded. "Yeah..." he whispered.

"But, Jess, it's personal. Are you sure?"

"Yeah." He swallowed down another stab of pain in his chest.

George reluctantly pulled the letter out of the envelope, giving time for Jess to change his mind, but when he saw Jess had closed his eyes so he could concentrate on listening, George read the two pages Mike had written about school and Browny and his desire for Jess to come home soon.

When George came to the end of the boy's letter, he said, "There's a note from Slim Sherman," he said. "'Daisy is fine and so am I. We're pulling for you. We need you. Come home soon. Slim.'" He refolded the letter and waited for Jess to say something.

"Thanks," Jess whispered. "Now do me a favor, OK?"

"Sure." George put the letter back in the envelope and placed it on the bed. Jess' hand closed around it as if he were holding on to Mike's hand instead of a piece of paper.

"I want you to write a letter for me."

"Of course. I'll write whatever you tell me to."

Jess struggled for breath. "I...can't even...do that. Just write whatever...you want to … You know what...to say."

"He'll know it's not you," George said, frowning, hesitant to take on this responsibility.

"He won't notice…"

"Slim Sherman will."

"Slim'll understand. Just... hurry up so I can still... hold a pen... to sign it."

Shaking his head, George sat down at a table and did as Jess asked. When he'd written a few lines, making them sound as much like Jess as he could, he brought the letter back to Jess' bedside. Jess seemed to be asleep.

"Jess?" he said quietly.

Jess opened his eyes. "I ain't asleep. You got it done?"

"Yes. Do you want me to read it to you?"

Jess nodded and George the brief note to him. When he came to the end, Jess said, "That'll do. Now get me the...pen so I...can...sign it."

George didn't like it - he was too much of a straight arrow to approve of even this small deception - but he dipped the pen in ink, put the letter on the hard surface of a book and guided Jess' hand to the bottom of the page. Jess concentrated all his efforts on his signature, but the final "S" in his name streaked in a long curve to the edge of the paper and ended in a large black blob. It looked as if in his weakness he'd lost control of the pen at the last moment.

When George saw the blotched signature, he said, "I'll rewrite the letter so you can sign it again."

"No," Jess said. "That's the ...way ...I want it. Mike won't notice, but Slim'll understand."

Baffled, George shrugged in disapproval. "If that's what you want to do."

"And address the letter… to Slim Sherman."

"Not Mike?"

"No."

"But…"

"Just do it, George."

"OK, Jess." He put the letter into the envelope and addressed it. "I'll ask Olaf to take it to the post office today."

"Thanks, George. For everything." Satisfied, he closed his eyes and sank back against the pillows. Slim would get the letter in three days. He fell into an exhausted sleep.

For the next four days, Jess fought pain and fever, fading in and out of consciousness. Two days after New Year's Day, he once found the strength to ask George for one more favor.

"You...you got… to do...something...for me."

George could barely hear him. He leaned down and put his ear next to Jess' mouth.

"When...Slim comes...to get me...tell him...I'm sorry...and...that he...needs to...bury...the damn...thing...with...me."

George didn't have any idea what he was talking about, but it didn't matter. Jess' head lolled to the side and he lay still. George reached up, yanked the emergency bell and grabbed the stethoscope to listen to Jess' heart. He heard a faint, erratic throb and weak lung noise, but at least his patient still lived.

Doctor Tyler rushed into the room, quickly assessed the situation and told George, "Prepare an ether injection! Hurry, or we're going to lose him!"

With deft competence, George prepared the medication and handed the needle to Tyler who ran it under Jess' skin, plunging the fluid into his comatose body. Then he pushed his stethoscope against Jess' chest and waited, listening for the sounds of life or death.

After a few moments, he took a deep breath and straightened up. "We still have him, George. I don't know for how long, but for right now he's still with us."

"Thank God. Does he have a chance?"

Tyler shook his head. "The fever will take him. I can't give him any more quinine. His heart won't be able to handle it."

"It's amazing what this man can endure."

"I agree. But for the last several weeks, I've had a suspicion that he's been looking for a discreet way to end his life. I can't imagine he brought his weapon here for any other reason. I'm surprised he hasn't asked you to give him something to help him on his way."

George looked down to avoid the doctor's eyes. "He wouldn't do that."

"Only because he wouldn't want to involve you. And, since I know you well, even if he had asked, you would have refused."

George's lips tightened. "Well, even if he has thought about it, I don't think he was serious. He wants to live. Otherwise, he would have died a long time ago."

Tyler nodded, looking thoughtfully at his patient. Jess' face was sunken. Razor sharp cheekbones rose beneath eyes that were hollow and squeezed tightly shut, and his grey, cracked lips were partially opened. He looked like a dead man.

"His breathing is going to our next problem," Tyler said. He handed George the stethoscope. "Don't leave him. It's time to send a telegram notifying Slim Sherman of his condition. Perhaps I should have done it earlier."

Doctor Tyler found Olaf out in the hall and asked the slight young man to follow him to his office at the front of the house.

"Is something wrong with Jess?" Olaf asked. "Liz said she heard his bell ringing. Is he...is he…"

"The end can come at any moment," Tyler replied without looking up from the paper he was writing on. He handed the note to Olaf. "Take this to the telegraph office and make sure the operator sends it out at once. Have Laramie notify us of receipt and tell them to take the message out to the Sherman Ranch immediately. It's all there in the note."

Olaf nodded sadly and stared at the doctor who had been a father to him for the last ten years. "I'm so sorry about Jess."

"We're all sorry," Tyler said heavily. "But I'm afraid there's nothing we can do to change it. Make sure that message gets to Slim Sherman as soon as possible. That's probably the last thing you can do for Jess. Hurry up, my boy."

END OF CHAPTER 34