It had been a long dusty muscle aching kind of day. Both men had been re- stacking the line cabin and chopping down trees. If it wasn't for the fact that the cabin had been neglected for several months, Slim wouldn't have even mentioned the necessary chore to Jess. He was so proud of Jess's recovery efforts. After several trial and error episodes, Slim had finally figured out how to cook meals that Jess could actually eat and more importantly stayed with him and didn't make a nasty appearance some minutes or hours later. Slim had been mortified but Jess never complained. After Dr. Sam proclaimed that his ankle was healed enough for walking, Jess insisted that he could walk from his bed to the barn. To his credit, he did use the crutches that Slim had made him. Today, as Slim watched, Jess had reached and stretched, pulled and hauled, and walked with only a slight limp. Now, as the day wound down, both of them were looking forward to a hot meal and bonding time.

As Slim lay in front of their fire, blankets tucked all around himself, he glanced at Jess. His Pard had worked hard but strangely had been mostly quiet all day.

"You okay, Jess?" Slim finally inquired as he cast a concerned look his way.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Jess replied, "really, I'm fine," he assured his friend.

Slim nodded and waited. He was not going to push.

"I was just remembering some things."

"Care to share?" asked Slim.

Jess was tempted to say "no" but decided to open up one of his memories of the time in the shack.

"For a long while after I was taken, I was really angry. I yelled until my voice was hoarse. I had no idea why I was taken or where I was. I had no means to escape. I almost gave up." Jess took a long sip of coffee and sat up on his blanket. "I figured Duncan just thought of me as a prisoner so I decided to be polite so he'd realize I wasn't a threat to him. It worked because he brought me blankets."

"Why did you think I wasn't real?" Slim asked, remembering the nightmare rescue.

Jess sighed. "Pard, I almost gave up hoping that you'd never stop looking for me but as the days turned into months and no one came, I realized I had a choice. I could accept my fate and try to live with it or try every avenue of escape. The problem was, even though I might be able to knock Duncan out, I was still shackled to the wall. I used to take chapters of our lives and remember everything about them. I would try and remember if it was sunny and hot or rainy and cold; the feel of Traveler beneath me; Jonesy or Daisy takin' care of me; playing checkers with Mike or Andy. Sometimes, I remembered all the pranks Andy and I played on you."

Slim smiled ruefully. "When I had you touch our scars, did you know I was real?"

Jess was not to be derailed from his train of thought, so he ignored Slim's question and continued on as though Slim had not said a word. "Everything changed for me when Duncan bought those newspapers to me. Right there, on the front page of the Gazette, was my picture. I read that article over and over again." He looked over at Slim whose look of compassion was surrounding him in the warmth of brotherly love.

"Sometimes," he cleared his throat, "I'd dream you rescued me. You always had a canteen and said you'd come to take me home. That time though, you had a cup and do you know what you said?

Slim shook his head. His recollections of the rescue were all wrapped up in getting Jess free and home where he belonged.

"You said to me to take 'baby bird sips' like you told Mike so long ago. I knew then that you were real. I was safe and goin' home."

"It must have been awfully hard for you Jess. I wish Duncan had found Mort earlier."

"Well, I'm just glad he realized he had a conscience. Say, did you hear what happened to Edwards?"

"No, what?"

He was found in Cheyenne by the sheriff and brought back to Laramie. Judge Webber is sending him back to jail to serve out the rest of his sentence with a coupla' more tacked on for taking me prisoner."

"Sounds about right to me," Slim said as they clincked their cups together. Several minutes later Slim ventured to ask, " what's going to happen to Peter Duncan? "

There was a long pause then and Slim caught a glimpse of Jess's famous eyebrows knit together in a straight, stern line, his jaw clenched.

'Oh boy,' thought Slim, ' now I've gone and said something wrong.'

"Judge Webber gave him a year - but that's not all. He's going to serve six months at the fort and then he's gonna live with a former sergeant in Cheyenne. Seems this sergeant is a blacksmith and Duncan is gonna be his assistant and live with his family."

"So basically, the judge is hoping that the experience of living like he forced you to do will teach him a lesson." Slim smiled. Judge Webber wad a shrewd man. He doubted that Duncan would ever get in trouble again. He glanced at Jess. He wanted to make things right between them but wasn't sure what to say. Fortunately, Jess beat him to it.

"Pard, did you ever stop and think when people who don't know you address you as 'Mr. Sherman' and you stop them and explain that Mr. Sherman was your father and you're Slim that you're showing respect for your Pa?"

"I suppose you're right," Slim acknowledged slowly, still not sure where Jess was going with this conversation.

"A wise man once told me that when a man dies, the only thing he takes with him to the pearly gates is his name. His 'rep' stays behind. If someone wants to show respect for the dead man then they say his whole name and speak of the good they did in their life. I respect you by saying your whole name, don't I?"

Slim nodded solemnly and turned towards his friend.

"Duncan coulda asked my name anytime but he didn't. He gave me food and water like a horse but never showed me any respect as a man. It wasn't until he realized that I had a family and a life before my imprisonment that he found the courage to do the right thing. I don't owe him anything least of all my respect." Jess's voice was filled with bitterness but he allowed a small smile to creep onto his face.

"I understand Jess," Slim spoke softly, "if you never want to speak about him again we won't."

" Nah, I reckon he's got what's coming to him. Sides, life is too short to hold a grudge."

"Mike did a fair amount of growin' while I was gone," Jess said steering the conversation to another tack.

"Boys will do that, you know," Slim winked.

"Well, all the same, he seems older somehow."

"He missed you something awful and one day he came to me and said that if the worst happened and we never found you, then he would do his best to be a man you'd be proud of."

"He said that?"

"He did," Slim nodded. He was close enough to see Jess' hands tremble when he reached for his cup. Mike and Jess were very close and his absence had almost devastated the young man they both loved so much. The conversation was beginning to get sad so Slim cast about for something to say that would distract his Pard. "I remember, " he said while a small smile danced around his lips," telling him that he could still remain a young boy if he wanted to and I remember," Slim chuckled, "he said he still had a few pranks to play on me and a whopper one on you."

"I'd like to see him try!" Jess said indignantly, but with a smile on his face. "Did he tell you about it?"

"Yup."

"Well, I might just have a few of those pranks up my sleeve for you, Mr. Sherman!" Jess winked broadly and put down his cup.

"Oh no!" Slim started to get up. "Not now!"

"Relax, Hard Rock," Jess teased mischieviously. "Tomorrow is another day. I'm bushed. Good night, Slim." Jess settled into his blankets, casting a gleeful look at his Pard. He so enjoyed their bantering. He was going to enjoy watching Slim as he cautiously went about his days. There were no pranks up his sleeve but he wasn't about to share that bit of information.

*Good night, Jess. I'm glad we got this time together."

Some of Jess's remembrances would later be shared with his family but the trail he'd traveled alone out of the deep dark abyss was one that would stay with him long after his release. He'd found his resilience in his captivity, and he was thankful that Duncan had found the courage to free him. Life took on a whole new meaning and he was so glad of it.

Author Note:

I owe a huge debt of gratitude to Calico West for her support and suggestions and also CoryLynn for her advice about Mort. I didn't set out to write a mystery story (although it seemed like it for the first few chapters). It was rather "fun" reading your comments questioning who was Mister. This was a hard story to write with the themes of isolation, despair, some PTSD (although not defined during the 1870's), loneliness - in short lots of angst! Please feel free to review and/or comment below.

MS