A/N: So wow, this has got to be one of the most depressing stories I've written yet, lol. I've done a lot of revising, when you let a story sit, you start to hate it, so I have to update it before I change my mind again. Be sure to stick around to see how all these problems get resolved and if they do!
Anyhow, I don't know if I was clear on what reviews I deem as inappropriate, for anybody concerned about that. If I take down a review, it is for a few reasons: 1) it qualified as hate speech (I.e., personal attacks against the author or against certain groups/people) 2) it was irrelevant 3) it contained excessive swearing.
If you don't see your review posted, please bear in mind that sometimes I don't have time to moderate all the guest reviews that come in, so it'll be approximately 36 hours before your review will be available to read. Thanks for your time! J
It sure is draining to be taking on so many chores at once; hangin' the laundry, feedin' the chickens, takin' care of the horses, mending the fences. One would think I was too old for this kinda stuff, but it's been like this for awhile. I'm pretty well used to it, all of Jess's chores gettn' dumped on me. Ol' Slim hasn't even mentioned hiring on any help, although Lord knows we need it. He's the most stubborn man I've ever met. He's been acting more like a grown up kid, lately. Moody, selfish, belligerent, and lastly, as much as I hate to say it, drunk. He's taken to the creature like a fish to water and he hasn't shown any signs of stoppn'. He's sober during the day hours, but I reckon the only way he can get a good night's rest is to make it to the bottom of a whiskey bottle. It's a darn shame, but I don't know what to do to remedy his problem. I know Matt Sherman could be just as bad when he was troubled, but he had enough sense to know his family came first. Is anything really worth getting so out of it that you can't even stand on your own two feet? Someone's gotta do somethin or there'll be consequences.
"Jonesy?" Andy calls me from the living room.
I put down the pot I'm washing, quickly dry my hands, and make my way to the living room.
"What canneye do fer ya, Andy?"
Andy bites his lip and glances down at his book. "Do you think that maybe you could-if it's not too much trouble anyway-well…"
"Well, what?" I prod. Poor kid hates askin' for things because he feels like he doesn't deserve it.
"Well, I kinda wanted to go for a ride today," he starts, "Would it be too much trouble for you to take me out on the buckboard later, I mean, you don't have to-"
"It's no trouble at all, Andy," I assure him, gently putting my hand on his arm. Andy'll only let me take him outside, or for wagon rides; he doesn't want anything to do with Slim anymore, just plain out cut him off. Another chore for me, I suppose... but I don't like thinking of spending time with Andy as a chore, he's a real good kid, he only deserves the best and this is the least I can do.
"I could sure go for some fresh air as well, so we'll be killin' two birds with one stone," I add.
He looks at me and smiles happily, but his eyes still convey his sadness. I bet he'd give his eyetooth to be able to get up on a horse just one more time. I bet Cyclone would like it too. Surprisingly enough, Slim hasn't gotten rid of that palomino. Poor creature hasn't been ridden in a coon's age, but he perks right up when I take Andy outside to visit him. I hope one of these days we can jury-rig it so the kid can take a ride. Maybe hitch up some type of chair-like saddle. I reckon we could train the horse to respond to arm movements instead of leg cues, that'd be-
The front door suddenly swings open and Slim walks in, throwing his hat on the chair next to the window and hanging his saddle bags up on the coat hooks.
"You mend the north section today, Jonesy?" he asks me.
"I surely did, almost-" I was gonna complain about how bad my back ached after doin' it, but I figure it would only put him in a worse mood.
"Almost what?" Slim sighs, not looking at me as he heads towards the kitchen.
"Almost got bit by snake, but I don't reckon it was poisonous," I lie.
"Mhm," Slim grunts, "Be more careful, we don't need another cripple aro-" he stops himself, but the damage has been done. Why is he so insensitive?
Andy winces, and Slim looks at his brother, slumped in the chair and sighs again.
"Andy, I.." He struggles with his apology, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it.."
"It's okay," Andy says, trying to be optimistic, but I can hear the tremble in his voice.
Slim hears it too and his face falls even more. He yanks off his gloves and throws them carelessly aside, angry with his own slipup.
Slim goes to his desk and flops down in his chair, grabbing a pen and paper and writing God knows what. Andy goes back to reading his book and figure it's time for me to finish the dishes. Before I can get up, I hear the sound of hoof beats making their way up to the house. I know it's not the stage, it's not time yet. Slim doesn't even look up, but I know he can hear the sound of footsteps on the porch.
I go for the door, but it swings open and almost catches me in the nose.
Here she is, the black-haired beauty that Slim always talks about, Ruth Cornell. Her petite frame stands akimbo, her dark eyes glaring at him. She scowls and slams the door behind her.
"Sorry Jonesy," Ruth apologizes curtly, turning to me.
She then proceeds to rush over to Slim and stand above him, her arms crossed.
"Thank you so much for leaving me at the dance last night, you're a true gentleman," she said sarcastically, "Oh, and I can't express my gratitude for you fighting over me with Connor Perkins, such decency on your part."
Slim put his pen down and exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair and looking up at her.
"I know…I shouldn't'a done that to ya…I'm sorry."
"I just don't know what's gotten into you," Ruth went on, tossing her arms up into the air and talking a few steps away, "you've been so noncommittal lately, my father thinks you're going to leave me."
She pauses for a moment and turns around to look Slim in the eye. "You aren't, are you?" she asks.
"I'm sorry, I'm just not right today…" Slim trails off, "I can't talk about this right now."
"Why did you leave?" Ruth demands, her voice growing exceedingly more impatient.
"I lost my temper, that's why!" Slim matched her tone.
"Like you are now?"
"Because you're pushing me over the edge. If it's not one thing it's another, I can't do this with you anymore!"
"So now I'm the problem?" Ruth cries shrilly.
Slim pushes his chair back aggressively and stands up, towering over the raven haired girl.
"Please Ruth, not in front of Andy!" he pleads.
Ruth scoffs, "Don't think I don't know how things work around here, Andy knows exactly what's been going on, don't act like he's stupid."
"He's not stupid, which is why I don't want to argue with you, not now. You think he doesn't have enough stress on his plate right now? There's no reason he needs to hear this!" Slim shoots back.
Ruth rolls her eyes, "Enough," she orders, "I asked you if I'm the problem!"
Slim shakes his head and pushes past her, resting his hand on the mantle of the fireplace.
"No! yes! I don't know! God, what do you want me to say?" he explains, "I can't handle a relationship with you, not now! I have responsibilities to tend to."
"We've been going steady for two years and you finally decide you can't do it? Are you telling me you wasted mine and everybody's time?" Ruth asks, now visibly outraged.
"Things are different now, I don't have time for you anymore." Slims replies, bringing his voice back down. Ruth points her chin downwards and looks up at him, her brow furrowed.
"That hurts, Slim."
"Yeah…so does having to care for a crippled brother," Slim mutters.
"Aha, so it's about Andy is it?" Ruth accusatorily remarks.
"What else?" Slim finally gives up.
Andy frowns and puts his book down, his fingers letting off the pages so they all cluster together again, his place in the text now lost, much like his gaze. For once in a long time, Slim is right; Andy doesn't need to hear this.
"Let's go give the lunch scraps to the chickens, why don't we?" I offer, hastily helping Andy into his wheelchair and pushing him outside, into the barnyard. I rush back into the house to grab the food scraps, and manage to catch a bit of the conversation continuing.
"You don't have to do this you know," Ruth says quietly, putting her hand on Slim's back.
"What choice do I have? Family don't abandon each other!" Slim argues.
"Oh? You mean like you forced Jess to do?" I interrupt. It's a bold move from me, I know, but maybe Slim needs to listen.
"I told you not to talk about that, it's over and done with." Slim says, his voice dropping to that monotone level, the one that could be interpreted as either utterly uninterested or extremely menacing.
"No it's not, because it's tearing you apart, and you know it," I snap back.
"It is not, the consequences of his actions is what's tearing me apart," Slim replies angrily, "I don't give a damn about Jess, he can burn."
"You don't mean that," Ruth says, stepping back again.
"And what would you know?" Slim snorts.
"I know he loved you and Andy like you three were all brothers," Ruth starts, "You ruined him by driving him out, shooting him like an animal."
Slim whips around and glares at the both of us.
"I shot him because he's no better than an animal to me!" he shouts.
"You shot him because you lost your temper before you knew that Andy was alive!" I break in, "Jess left thinking he killed Andy and you never even tried to make it right! You're selfish, you think everything is about Jess, well let me tell you this, it's not. You're the only one to blame, Jess only ever tried to help and you let your anger get the best of you, and it's been getting the best of you ever since. Your actions are the ones that are putting Andy in so much misery, and until you face that fact he's never going to talk to you again!"
"I don't need to take this from you," Slim mumbles, his voice shaking with anger.
"You're right, you don't, but you're going to," I assure him, standing almost toe to toe with him.
"I'm going to spell it out for you," Slim lowers his voice again, trying once again to contain himself, "Jess crippled Andy."
"The heck he did," I spit
"He pushed him!" Slim yells, shoving me aside with his shoulder as he walks past and sits down on the fainting couch.
"He tried to help Andy! I was there, I saw what happened! You never listen," I exclaim, "You block everyone out and you've gotten it into your head that Jess purposely harmed Andy."
"You're an expert on everything, aren't you?" Slim sneers.
"I know what I saw, and what I saw was Jess grabbing Andy's neckerchief in an attempt to save his life, but Andy fell anyway."
"Wrong again."
"You're as stubborn as a darned mule, how hard is it for you to understand plain English?"
"I'm in a living hell because of his failure to do the right thing!" Slim raises his voice as high as he can get it and Ruth winces.
"You're in a living hell because you turned to rash judgment before trying to understand, and because you've been consumed by hate!" I say scornfully.
"Stop it, just-" I cut Slim off before he can end the discussion.
"It's all coming clear to you now, isn't it Slim? You realize your mistake and you're not man enough to own up to it."
"This is isn't about me," Slim growls.
"It surely is. You shot Jess and told him to get the hell out because you thought he had killed your brother. When you found out that he was only crippled, you still directed your anger into believing that Jess was in some way at fault. You needed something to hold onto, something to reassure you that you were justified in driving out the best thing that ever happened to this place. You've paid the price for your pride, it's destroyed you, it's turned you into a despicable mess, and it's destroyed Andy too. He can't even look you in the eye without seeing a monster. His life is ruined and he didn't even have the luxury of having his best friend help him through it. Instead, he had a detached, angry older brother carelessly slave to his needs, blaming everyone but himself for his current situation. You think Andy has it bad? Just think of the last year and half Jess has spent mentally killing himself. He left without knowing that Andy survived the accident. He heard you blame him, he heard the obscenities you spat at him, the bullet you fired at him. You betrayed him, and he probably thinks he's the worst human alive. He thinks he killed an innocent child, brother of his best friend. How can anyone live like that? And just think, it's all because of you."
I finish my deriding monologue and take a breath, looking at Slim's disgusted expression.
"Get out."
"The truth hurts, doesn't it Slim?" I yell at the top of my lungs.
"I get said get out! You're manipulating me! You're a liar!" Now he's hysterical, he doesn't want to believe. Maybe he is realizing how wrong he's been, and how much it's cost him. Slim jumps back to his feet and storms to the kitchen.
"How can you not believe what you've been seeing for the past eighteen months?" I call after him, "Does Andy's suffering mean nothing to you?"
"You think I don't care?" he asks quietly, coming back from the kitchen and standing in front of me, whiskey bottle in his hand, "I hate myself for letting him go through what he has! But there's nothing I can do! He'd be better off dead!"
"How can you say that?" Ruth says, cringing at him.
"With certainty!" he barks.
"You're a…a-" she stammers.
"A what, Ruth?" Slim snorts.
"You're an idiot! I hate you Slim Sherman. I hate you!" She screams, quite possibly on the verge of tears, "You're a waste of a man, you're a failure, you've destroyed your own home and condemned your brother to a painful and pointless life! I hope you burn!" with that, she runs out of the house, slamming the door behind her. It's only seconds before I hear the sound of hoof beats riding away, and I glance out the window to see her horse disappearing up the road.. I turn away from the window, and face Slim again.
"Well, what do you have to say?" he demands, "Gonna chastise me some more? Or have you run out of clichéd old sayings to spout at me?"
"I have nothing to say to you. Not anymore," I reply.
"Where are you going?"
"For a walk."
"You're leaving too?"
"If I was smart, I would. But Andy needs me," I say disdainfully, finally grabbing the food scraps and heading out the door.
"I can take care of him by myself," Slim says, his voice now emotionally drained.
"You can barely take care of yourself, start living in the real world, Slim."
I finally walk out and spot Andy by the corral, talking to Cyclone. Before I head over, I hear the pop of a cork from a whiskey bottle and the clink of the neck connecting with a glass.
It won't be long now.