Chapter Nine

The trail of blood was a striking contrast against the sparkling surface, printed on the ground in a wobbly stripe from where Jess had been hit, to where the oversized man had fallen, face first to the ground, his own blood creating a circular stain. Jess' gun dropped to his holster as he hovered over the burly frame, but with the thick layer of fur and personal insulation that wrapped around his entire body, it was impossible to detect any signs of his breaths. The man's weight was too substantial to turn over, but with the brute lying motionless, the threat remained at a minimum as Jess reached his hand toward the neck. The warmth around the bear skin was evident, what wasn't clear was a heartbeat. He was gone.

Jess sighed, taking his hand away from the dead man to grip the flesh above his left knee, the throb matching his rapid pulse that brought a continuous stream of blood to pour down his leg. The bandana around his neck had long been removed to blot Slim's fevered face, which left him nothing on his body to wrap around the wound. Taking a painful step over the body in the doorway, Jess gave the room a quick glance, shaking his head at the crude interior. Between the four walls, with the shuttered window and the door, there were exactly four things to view, a stove, a lantern, a pile of furs, and a broken chair. There wasn't even a bed.

Knowing the man's body shape, it shouldn't have surprised Jess to not find the one thing that Slim needed the most, as it would have been impossible for the giant to nestle in on a cot every night. Fighting the rising frustration that went with the pain he carried inside and out, Jess gave the furs another dose of scrutiny and his head formed a single nod as there was a distinct imprint in its center. That was the bed. Perfection it might have been far from, as there might have been some critters living under the layers, but at least Jess knew it would be warm.

"Jess!" Wiley's shout rode on the wind and Jess received it with a snapping of his head in its direction.

"Over here!" Jess called, hobbling out of the cabin toward the approaching sound.

"This way, everyone," Wiley's voice came with the shaking of brush, which soon parted way for a horse to walk through. "The cabin's in sight, just keep in my trail."

"Slim all right?" Jess asked, getting a wide-eyed stare from Wiley as the deputy dismounted.

"He's still hanging on," Wiley answered, still gaping at the scene in front of him, letting a finger trail in the air behind him as Mort's back came into Jess' view. "They're bringing him up now."

"Glad we found you, Jess. We couldn't take the wagon any further," Mort explained as he adjusted his hands under Slim's shoulders, his eyes not yet finding the dead man or the bloody trail as he only had eyes for Slim. "I couldn't quite tell where your shots came from, but then smelled the smoke so we just picked him up and followed the scent."

"Jess, you're hurt!" Andy's sudden cry made every eye find Jess' leg, and Doctor Hanson immediately started in Jess' direction.

"I don't care about me," Jess said, waving the doctor's offer of help away with his hand. "Take care of Slim. Inside, lay him on the furs."

Jess' pace being hindered, the group passed him by, carrying Slim around the lifeless mound and into the cabin. Closing his eyes, Jess felt relief's tender touch as the journey to get Slim to a better place made its completion, but the feeling brought another one on, that only opened a vital door for more to tromp through. The full registry of pain came first, with exhaustion coming swiftly after, leaving Jess with a weakness that threatened to drag him down. He had to find strength someplace, and it came with a sense of duty when Mort exited the cabin. As any lawman would, he lowered to one knee beside the man on the ground, checking for life that was no longer there.

"I had to kill him, Mort." Jess limped to the sheriff's kneeled position next to the dead man, but once there, needing support to remain on his feet, Jess reached for the door and gripped the knob tight. "We both kinda had reason to fight, but he pushed it all the way."

"Doesn't surprise me," Mort said, straightening back to his full height as he sought Jess' intense blue gaze, immediately noticing that the hue shone with traces of guilt. "That's got to be Fatty Longmire, wanted for murdering his wife in Colorado some time back. No one's seen hide nor hair of him in at least two years. Most lawmen had given up on ever finding him, but some men never tire of searching for a lost reward. There was a bounty hunter through Laramie a month or so ago asking about him, and how he described him, the description sure fits. I doubt there are too many men that weigh close to four hundred in these parts."

"I reckon that explains things, all right." Jess brought his sleeve up to his mouth, wiping away the drops of sweat that lingered at the top of his lip, taking the expression of guilt away with it, but the replacement was nothing but pain, coming from both seen and unseen wounds. "I gotta get inside."

Mort nodded his understanding, watching as Jess hobbled into the cabin, but as soon as the door swung shut, he turned to his deputy. "It'll take us the rest of the day, but let's get him buried."

While a shovel struck the ground, a scalpel struck flesh, sending a new spurt of blood out of a hole that had gone closed. Flooding the wound would bring out debris, and after the initial rush, with gentle pricks to the torn flesh, inside and out, a pile of pieces of thorns, some miniscule, others more substantial, all were wiped from Doctor Hanson's hand. But that part of the doctor's care was only the beginning.

"Andy," Jonesy said, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder, "you go on out and tend to the horses. You're braver than most boys your age, but this is bound to become more than you can handle."

"All right," Andy agreed, sliding his eyes back and forth between Slim's body and Jess', wanting to stay and watch, but knowing by the somersaulting that his stomach was doing, he knew Jonesy was right, and receiving an encouraging nod from Jess' head, Andy left the cabin.

"Any whiskey in this place?" Doctor Hanson asked, casting a glance over his shoulder as he placed a palm against Slim's cheek.

"Looks like there's something behind the stove," Jonesy said, bending low to pick up the jug that had been kept close enough to the fire to keep the bottle warm, but not so close that the flammable contents would pose a threat. "Smart fellow. As if this stuff doesn't carry enough heat, he's gotta add to it."

"Bring it here, Jonesy." Doctor Hanson held out his hand, the removal of the cork being done as soon as it was in his grasp. "It smells like the potency is there. Let's see how Slim likes its taste."

He didn't feel the sizzle against open skin, but Jess winced when Doctor Hanson dribbled the alcohol on Slim's side, the facial expression deepening even further when Jess lowered his backend into the broken chair. It creaked under his weight, but didn't collapse, and Jess sighed as the pressure was released from his leg, but the pressure between his ribcage continued to be held in its tightest grip as he watched every motion from the doctor's hands as he tended to Slim's battered body. The jug back on the ground, Doctor Hanson's stethoscope was placed underneath Slim's shirt, and Jess wished that he could have been on the other end, hearing what was going on inside of Slim's chest. Jess' internal noise was its own wild rhythm of frantic heartbeats and shallow breaths, giving an even sharper pang as Jess' leg gave an involuntary twitch.

"Jess?"

The touch on his shoulder was given with enough familiarity through the fingers that Jess knew who was on the other side of the arm, but Jess looked up anyway, seeing Jonesy's soft and knowing gaze upon him. "I know what you're gonna say."

"That bullet's speaking louder than either of us ever could," Jonesy said, taking his brown hue into a straight line with the blood pouring out of the hole in Jess' leg.

"I don't care what it says, what it looks like or how it feels." Jess shook his head, the frown going deeper into his face as he dropped his palm onto the wound. "I ain't in worse shape than Slim is."

"As true as that might be," Jonesy began, his nod that went with his words came with definite slowness, "you could still get that far. Let me try to get it out."

"No."

"Well," Jonesy harrumphed, but the sound wasn't given in pure frustration, but done with the smallest shard of jest in an attempt to chip through Jess' concrete barrier. "I don't know if I should be insulted."

"I don't doubt your abilities," Jess said, bringing his thumb up to rest into the pocket of his shirt, "it's me that I don't wanna test."

"What do you mean?"

"I gotta stay awake, Jonesy. If I pass out, if I sleep, if I do anything that ain't remaining by his side and Slim doesn't make it, I just couldn't take the guilt."

"I ain't never seen anyone that don't share the same blood more devoted to each other than you two are," Jonesy said, letting his finger do part of his talking as he tapped it in front of Jess and then let it drift toward Slim's still body on the furs. "So let me point this out. If Slim had a say in this, what do you suppose it'd be?"

"He'd…" Jess barely began his blurt when his tongue stilled against his teeth, bringing his lips together in a firm line. He couldn't help but follow the tip of Jonesy's finger to where Slim was lying, stuck in the place of nothingness as he struggled with survival, but somehow, Slim still had words, and Jess almost shuddered as they wiggled into his brain. "He'd tell me to quit being so stubborn, and that the bullet needs to come out."

"Then that's exactly what we're gonna do. Just need to borrow some of Doc's tools, and we'll get to work on losing that piece of lead."

"Jonesy," Jess whispered through clenched teeth when the proper instruments were secured in Jonesy's hands, "if I…"

"You won't," Jonesy said firmly, knowing exactly where Jess' thoughts were taking him. "You've got too much heat flowing through them veins of yours to topple over. Now don't dillydally with your answer. Are you ready? Uh-huh. Good. Drop your pants."

Moving his hands to the buckle of his gun belt, Jess unfastened the belt and let it slip to the ground, and then with a hand on his elbow to steady him, Jess stood, his injured leg shaking repeatedly as his boot felt the floor. The button that secured his jeans was opened and as the fabric was already tight, the soaking of the blood made it even tighter. Every part of Jess' vocal chords wanted to match the pain he felt with agonized grunts as the jeans were pried loose from the wound, but the single pop of his jaw as it worked back and forth was all that was allowed. The jeans now around his ankles, Jess' hands went back to his waist as another layer needed to go. His long johns were cut off at his knees, but the blood had drenched his red underwear to its darkest possible shade all the way up to his hip, and peeling it down was even worse than the jeans, and this time, Jess emitted a gasp that left his mouth open long after the sound drifted away.

"Sit back down," Jonesy commanded, putting two fingers around the hole as Jess' bare bottom was returned to the chair. "All right, Jess. Brace yourself, I'm going in."

Jess put his hand on the only arm of the chair, his knuckles immediately turning white as the sharp instrument was inserted into his flesh, the search begun with gentle movements of Jonesy's fingers, but each felt as if Jess was being shot all over again. Inhaling short breaths that were held too long before releasing the stream through his clamped jaw, Jess fought the need for air, but the pain prevented the normal functioning of his lungs. Starting to see black spots in front of his eyes, Jess opened his mouth to search for what he needed, the full intake coming in when a jab from Jonesy's hand nearly sent Jess through the roof and far away from the hidden hole in the floor that would have sucked him under.

"Dad-gummit, Jonesy!"

"I'm sorry, Jess," Jonesy said, his teeth pulling in and out his bottom lip as he probed, his fingers taking on the bright hue that pumped out of Jess' leg. "I've got to go deeper."

"Jonesy, do you need me to…"

"Stay where you are, Doc!" Jess shouted, his body rising despite the knife sticking out of his leg, ready to forcefully keep the doctor by Slim's side if it was deemed necessary, but the power from his throat along with the searing gaze that he shot at the physician was enough to keep him in his position by the furs.

"Sit back down, Jess," Jonesy said, his cheeks turning a shade paler at the sight of Jess' wound directly across from his eyes. "You don't want me to tie you down, do you?"

"No." Jess dropped to the seat with a thud, but the chair's structure could no longer hold itself together, and Jess' well-shaped skin slapped the floor. "Of all the blamed things!"

"That's better. Now maybe I can get some cooperation," Jonesy said, planting one hand on Jess' knee as the other returned to the small knife. While Jonesy's air was held inside of his chest, Jess' was pouring out of his mouth with a wobbly wheeze, for with a shift to the left, a motion straight down, and a popping outward, the bullet rolled to the ground. "Got it."

"Get some whiskey on it," Doctor Hanson said, shifting his eyes away from one patient to observe the work on another. "Then if he's still with it, shove some through his lips."

"I just might take a swig myself when this is over." Jonesy wiped a hand across his forehead and then reached for the jug. "Phew. Smells like a skunk swished its tail through it a couple of times. Don't shoot me, Jess, here it comes."

"Ahhhh! Dad-gum!"Every thread of excruciating pain that had been held in came out in a rush as the amber liquid ran down Jess' leg and into the wound, reaching even into his core as dark hands reached out and tried to pull him all the way into the black body of abyss. His saving grace from being seized by the sprawling fingers was when Jonesy put the bottle up to his lips and poured the vile juice down, his throat turning into a flame that made his stomach shudder before a single drop landed there.

Shaking his head as the smile that would have normally come was wiped away by the need of his professionalism for Slim's care, Doctor Hanson drenched a cloth with water from a canteen that had been filled shortly before finding the cabin, right out of a mountain stream. The cold fabric washed across Slim's face, neck and through the open buttons of his shirt and then back up again. Dousing the cloth a second time, the bathing movements continued, the coolness against the warm flesh began to be felt, and with a sniff of a nose the pungent smell of whiskey that filled the room created arousal. It wasn't enough for a pair of weary blues to be opened, but another sense was unlocked. The haggard, pained breaths coming in and out of Jess' throat shifted into a groan, coming close to a whispered cry as Jonesy mopped the wound clean, and every note entered through Slim's ears and registered inside of his brain. And even though it wasn't noticed, two fists were formed by Slim's side, for through his partner's distress, Slim had just found a reason to fight.