Chapter Eighteen

The first thing Jess realized was that he ached all over. It hurt to move. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to think. He was curled up on one side with the blankets pulled nearly over his head. Something warm and weighty lay across his throat. It moved when he coughed.

"Jeremiah," he croaked, reaching out, but the cat slipped through his hands, offended, no doubt, at being disturbed.

Jess opened his eyes just a crack and then screwed them shut again, groaning at the sudden brightness. Then he remembered, and with sudden grateful tears, he opened his eyes again, blinking into the shaft of sunlight that fell across his bed, sucking down deep, trembling breaths of cold, clean air into his smoke-battered lungs, unable to hold back a wide, foolish grin and a low, wheezy laugh. Light. Glorious light. Oh, help of the helpless . . .

"Thank You," he whispered.

He still hurt all over, but that didn't seem to much matter now. He could see. He was alive. Mike and Daisy were alive. Slim—

Wincing at his complaining muscles, he managed to turn over and look at the bunk across from his. Slim was there. He was asleep, breathing slow and even, but he was there. If Daisy had moved him away from the hearth, he must be doing better.

Jess frowned suddenly. Daisy would never have been able to move him herself. She would never have been able to get Jess inside and into bed. His face turned a little warm when he realized he was wearing nothing but his longjohns. He knew, with all the times she'd doctored him, she'd seen him in less, but that didn't make it any less embarrassing. Like the lady she was though, she was always good about never referring to such things.

Still, it puzzled him how he and Slim both had ended up in their proper beds. His frown deepened when he realized there were a lot of voices outside in the yard. Men's voices mostly, but there were a few that had to belong to women and some even to children. He shook his head, thinking he was still a little foggy in the brain, but that didn't make the voices go away. It only made him a little dizzy.

"Well, you did decide to come around."

Jess squinted toward the bunkroom door and saw Mort coming toward him. He smelled more than saw the coffee the sheriff brought with him.

"You about slept the clock around, boy," Mort said. "How are things lookin' today?"

Lookin'. That foolish grin came back to Jess's face as he sat up.

"Dadgum good, Mort," he said, taking the cup from him, enjoying the sight of the coffee as much as the smell and warmth of it. "How's Slim now?"

"Dr. Hanson came and went a couple of hours ago. He said all you both need now is rest."

"Good."

Jess took a drink of coffee and coughed from the burn of it down his raw throat. Mort came and sat on the bunk beside him, thumping his back as if that was going to help anything.

"It's all right," Jess wheezed. "Still got some smoke in my lungs I guess."

"Yeah, the doc said you might be a little growlier than usual for a while. I suppose we can live with that."

Jess's smile faded. "I guess the barn's gone, hay and everything. Worst time a year for it, too."

"Burnt to the ground. I was headed to town after talking to Len and Pete about comin' here to help out while you and Slim are laid up, and I saw the fire. I got them and hightailed it back out here. I helped Daisy get you inside and put to bed. Len and Pete put out what was left of the fire. This mornin' they came back with some help to get the mess cleaned up."

"Dadgum," Jess muttered, raking one hand through his hair. "Slim's gonna dock my wages for at least a year for lettin' his barn burn down."

"Now, he's not and you know it."

"I can't seem to bring nobody nothin' but trouble, no matter how hard I try."

Mort shot him a hard look. "How do you figure any of this is your fault?"

Jess looked down into his coffee cup, seeing more than was there. Pete lyin' dead in the doctor's spare room. Sally and her ma and pa cold and still and laid out in their cabin. Timmo on the floor still strapped to that chair, starin' into nothin', bled dry. Mike and Daisy and even Traveller and Alamo nearly burning to death. Slim buried in the snow, dying, abandoned—

"Because he's a durn hardhead, that's why."

Jess looked over to the other bunk and saw Slim scowling at him. "I thought you were asleep."

"I haven't done anything but sleep since I can remember," Slim said. "And how I'm supposed to sleep with you two in here jawin' and half a Laramie out in the yard, I don't know."

Jess tried to look out the window, but he couldn't see much from where he was. "Yeah, what's goin' on out there anyway, Mort?"

"Well, right now Miss Daisy's feedin' everybody who came from town to help put up a new barn. We've been workin' hard all mornin'. I'm surprised you two slept through it."

Jess blinked at him. "What?"

"Hey," Slim said, ginning and leaning up on one elbow. "That's good of 'em. Real good. Daisy told me there'd been a fire. Guess I hadn't figured yet on what to do about it."

"You got a lot a good friends, pard," Jess said. "And I'll figure out some way to pay for the lumber. Might take me a while, but—"

"All seen to, boy," Mort said.

Jess gave him a puzzled look.

"Slim's not the only one who's got friends. It may have taken 'em awhile, but there ain't any of 'em doesn't know what you've done for us all."

"I don't—"

"Pete and Len Dixson were headed for the gallows until you and Slim set 'em straight. You sending Trey with me and his pa likely saved his life, and don't think Dan and his wife don't know it. Mr. Simpson at the bank, he's the one payin' for the materials to rebuild the barn. He says it's little enough to repay you for stoppin' those outlaws from cleanin' him out and for gettin' the rest of his money back for him."

"But all those things just happened that way. I didn't—"

"And all the other things, Pete Chandler and the Mitchells and whatever else you think is on your conscience, they just happened that way. Not because of anything you did or didn't do."

Jess ducked his head, and Slim had to lean over a little to be able to look him in the face.

"If I'd gone after those outlaws without you, Jess, I'd be dead right now. And Dan or Trey or Mort along with me. Maybe all of 'em. Even without being able to see, you took care of me, you got away from those killers and got help. I told you before, I trust you with my life. There aren't too many I can say that about."

Mort nodded. "And there's a reason you're the first one I come to for deputyin'. Not because you're not a dad blasted hothead liable to go off any second, but because there's nobody I'd rather have backin' me in a fight. Durn hardhead, you blame yourself for things you have no control over and can't see all you do to help folks out when they're in trouble."

Jess swallowed down the sudden tightness in his throat. "But you and Slim, you've both pulled my fat out a the fire more times'n I can count. I can't— "

"And you've done the same for us," Mort said.

Slim nodded. "And for Daisy and Mike and just about everybody else we know. I told you a long while back, Jess, this place wouldn't be the same without you and your troubles. I don't think any of us want to know what that would be like. It sure wouldn't be like home."

Home.

Jess felt the sudden warmth in his face, but he also felt it in his heart, melting away all the pain and guilt he'd been carrying there since this whole nightmare had started.

"Slim," he began, and then there was the clatter of little boots running through the house and into the bunk room.

"Sheriff Mort! Sheriff Mort!"

Mort scowled as Mike ran into the room. "Here now, boy, didn't Miss Daisy tell you to keep quiet while Slim and Jess are tryin' to sleep?"

Mike beamed at him. "But they're not asleep now. Hi, Slim! Hi, Jess! Are you feelin' better?"

"A lot better, Tiger," Jess said, returning the boy's tight hug.

"I'm gettin' there," Slim added.

"Aunt Daisy sent me to ask you if you want to come eat now, Sheriff Mort," Mike said.

"I see you're both awake," Daisy said, coming to the bunkroom door. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt anything if you ate in here, sheriff."

"Me, too?" Mike asked.

"Yes, I suppose you, too. Why don't you come help me bring in the food."

"Yes, ma'am!"

Mike darted out of the room after Daisy, and Mort shook his head.

"They were both pretty upset when they thought you were leavin', Jess."

Slim sat up a little more, his expression turning hard. "Leavin'?"

Jess's face got warmer. "I just thought, well, when I couldn't see, I figured—"

"Here it is," Daisy announced, coming in with two plates of food and with Mike behind her carrying two more. "There you are, Mort."

"Thank you, Miss Daisy," Mort said, eyeing the ham and potatoes and corn with obvious pleasure.

Daisy handed Jess a plate.

"Thanks, Daisy."

Mike put a plate on the chair between the two bunks so Slim could get to it, and then he got up on Jess's bed and sat as close to him as he could with his own meal. On the other side, like the accomplished ham thief he was, Jeremiah wriggled his way up next to Jess's hip, just waiting for an opportunity to ply his sly trade.

Daisy smiled on all of them. "Is there anything else you want, Jess?"

Jess looked around the room, around home, and hid a smile of his own. "Thanks, Daisy, but I can't think of a single thing."

THE END

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the honest to goodness end. I hope you've enjoyed the story. Please let me know what you think. I love hearing from you. Thanks so much for reading.