For Valerie Guyer
(This was a long time in coming, 9 months! I hope I did your idea justice)

Eyes

"Here's your mail, Slim." Mose's lips twitched as he took the trio of envelopes out of his pocket. "Or maybe I should say, Jess' mail."

"All to him, huh?" The slap into Slim's palm teased more than his smile, and Slim lifted the top piece to his nose. "What is that?"

"I swore it was roses, Eddie thought it was sulfur, but what does he know, the young whippersnapper that he is. Whadda you think?"

"I'm not sure." Slim gave it a longer sniff. "Has an Oriental spice. Kind of exotic, I'd say."

"Well, whichever it is, I'd say it's from a woman."

"Could be, Mose," Slim said, looking up to the seat that the old stagecoach driver needed to fill. "Aren't you going to be late?"

"Another minute ain't gonna put me any further behind. Ain't you gonna give Jess his mail? I'd like to see his face when he takes a whiff of that."

Slim glanced at Jess, building up the forge for the shoe fitting of their most ornery horse standing nearby. "I'll hand it over later when he's not bent over a fire. He might just toss the whole lot straight in."

"Aw, Slim, you're no fun," Mose said, looking up to where Eddie waited, rifle perched on one knee. "All right, Eddie. Scoot over. I'm coming up. And Slim? Tell me a little of what happens, all right? You'd be surprised how dull my life is."

Slim's chuckle couldn't be contained behind his throat clearing. "Sure thing, Mose."

Slim waved as the coach rolled around the bend, and then he lifted the top envelope back up to his nose. It was Midnight Serenade. Marcie Benson had waved it around his head a few days back, her face somewhat pinched when he requested to smell some of the more expensive perfumes they carried. He had been satisfied with the strength of its odor, yet he put it back on the shelf. It wasn't for him to buy, but Slim would remember its name.

Looking to Jess, Slim ducked his head when Jess turned his way. He must have felt Slim's stare, and feeling the unease that went with narrowly being caught walking mischief's hottest road, Slim went inside.

First Slim dropped the envelopes on the table, but curiosity pulled him back to its short stack. They had only penned two, but maybe Mort was feeling more ornery sparks after he left the other day and added another. Slim picked up the top and held it up to the light, his mouth moving in silent speech as he made out a few of the words he had dictated.

Dear Jess, even your name has the ring of a church bell, the distinct gong that peals through the air on the morn of a blessed couples wedding day.

"He's going to choke," Slim whispered, his head snapping over his shoulder to make sure Jess wasn't close enough to hear. The man had an uncanny ability to sneak behind another's back unaware. He wasn't.

Wiping at the blush of his cheeks, Slim released the heavily fragranced letter and reached for a second, this one tainted with a lesser lilac. Mort already had that scent on hand, although Slim couldn't get an answer as to why. Looking at its front, he could tell by the sweeping curves on the double S's that this one was from the fictitious Ophelia White. If he could remember through his bent over laughter, this was the one that had golden hair down to her… well, whichever word Mort had used, it was down that far.

Slim glanced out the window a second time. Jess was still at work. Good. Slim knew that he would need at least ten minutes to recover from the delivery so that Jess wouldn't suspect tomfoolery before he even had a chance to pick up the first envelope with his name on it. He was sharp, but surely Jess wouldn't catch this.

It was a joke, born on the night when Jess said, "I'm losing a wife, but gaining a cook."

Jess deserved a good-natured tease, and who better to give it than his best friend and partner?

There's never any honesty in a trick, yet Slim waited until Jess' arm was without a sling to start his little ball rolling. By the time it would reach snowball-fighting stage, Jess ought to be good and ready for what was about to get launched at him. But Slim knew he couldn't get it done alone.

When he started packing the snow together, Slim had leaned against Mort's desk. "How would you like to help me pull a prank on Jess?"

"A fun one, mean one, or dirty one?"

"All three."

"Count me in," Mort said. "What do you want me to do?"

There wasn't even a man in the lock-up, yet Slim had bent forward, his whisper at its lowest to keep the plan between the two. Today that scheme would pick up its biggest player. Jess.

When Jess found the letters and smelled the intoxicating aroma, Slim would tell him that he put his name in a lonely hearts column in the Denver newspaper. These "replies" were from some lonely hearted females.

Slim laughed into his sleeve. "Poor Jess. He'll faint."

Slim picked up the third letter and tapped it against his open palm. "I wonder who Mort made up for this one."

There were all kinds of sayings about cats and curiosity and as long as Slim wasn't boasting a tail and some twitching whiskers, he figured he was safe in letting it go all the way. Taking his finger along the seal, he gently pried it loose. Now that the page inside was only a second away from being read, Slim made another lean toward the window. Jess was still out of reach. Well then, he had room to chuckle, but if Mort had made too many embellishments, Slim could rush for a pillow to press into his red cheeks before Jess ever caught the sound.

The letter in his hand, Slim allowed the top fold to meet his gaze. "'Jess Harper, I'm going to…'" Slim's face grew pale. This was no trick written in Mort's disguised print. This was real. "'…gun you down. The only thing you don't know is when. I guess when you see me in Laramie, you'll know it's time. Fill your hand now, maybe I'm right behind you. Lester Keene.'"

"Lester Keene." He knew that name. Jess had mentioned it one time while they were camped somewhere on the open trail. He wasn't just the kind of hombre that made a name for himself, he had a way of eliminating any other name that was alongside of his. "Jess."

"Ahhhhhh!"

He thought the scream would stop at one, but it kept growing out of Jess' throat as Slim bolted through the door. For a moment he paused just off of the step, poised and ready to fire his gun at Lester Keene, but there wasn't a stranger's flesh to fire into. It was just fire.

Jess was on his back, his hands covering his face as he thrashed through his torture.

"Jess!" He didn't have to ask. Slim could see what type of pain had assaulted his partner, the likely cause from a swift kick of a pair of hooves to the base of the forge.

Slim shouted again. "Jess!"

Smoke rose from his frame, his shirt, dotted with black marks where the embers had smoldered the fabric. Coals were all around him as the forge lay tipped over his legs, but it was his face that took the brunt.

"Ahhhh," the shout grew dimmer, but somehow the agony's caliber went higher.

"I got you, Jess," Slim soothed, picking his partner up from the ground. "Take it easy. You're going to be all right."

Nearly dragging Jess to the trough, Slim dipped Jess' head under water. He waited until the bubbles came with fury before pulling him back out, hoping Jess would take a deep enough draft of air, for he was going down again. When the gurgle indicated an intense need for air, Slim hauled Jess upright, but while the flames had dissipated to none, Jess' hands still clawed at what they had torched. His face.

Slim took hold of Jess' wrists. "Let me look, Jess."

"I can't, Slim." Jess gasped through the choking of his throat, but the second parting of his lips rang with sheer terror. "I can't open my eyes."

"But you can move your hands. Let me look."

Able to catch the sound before it left his lips, Slim almost echoed Jess' sharp intake of breath when Jess' trembling fingers were finally lowered. His eyelashes were gone, the eyebrows, except for where they bent upward, had been torched. His lips boiled with blisters, and his cheeks were as red as the flames.

"I've got to get you to town, Jess."

"That bad, huh?"

Slim hooked his arm around Jess' waist. "You want me to lie?"

"No."

"Then it's that bad."

If Jess went by how it felt, it was worse than that. The moment Slim was away from his side, Jess pressed his fingers against his eyelids. The coolness of his fingertips no longer felt comforting, but agonizing. The sound of the horses coming close, Jess pried his eyelashes upward, but the stab coming from inside brought the flutter right back down.

Gulping air that still felt like it was tainted with smoke, Jess clung to the wagon bed as it halted beside him and then with arms that seemed to come from nowhere, Jess was lifted to the wagon's bed. Irritated by Slim's choice, Jess frowned, searching for the sound of Slim's footfalls to give him a wily retort. He didn't want to ride into Laramie by bouncing from one end of the wagon to the other. Standing, Jess reached for the wagon seat but nearly went head-first out of the rear.

"Lay down, Jess," Slim said, and his voice, from the wagon's commanding position made Jess turn.

"I ain't that weak-kneed, Slim. Gimme a minute to get up there."

But ramming his leg into the wagon's left side, Jess knew he couldn't make it with his eyelids scrunched tight. Just a peek and he could get there. Opening each eye slowly, Jess stared straight ahead.

All he saw was darkness.

Swaying, Jess lowered to his rear before the wagon bed reached out and smacked him. "Slim. I can't see."

.:.

"Is he blind, Doc?"

Doctor Sweeney sighed. A sound a worried partner never wanted to hear when it came to a diagnosis' delivery. "It depends on if the damage can mend. It's imperative that he keeps his eyes shielded from the light."

"For how long? I mean, how long until we know for sure?"

"A week at its soonest, but I'd prefer to stretch it further to ten days."

Slim looked to the closed door to the examining room, where his partner lay on its other side. "Did you tell him?"

"Not yet. He knows he can't see now, but he doesn't know of its permanency."

Slim's body turned into a solid rock. "It won't be permanent."

Doctor Sweeney shook his head. Another doctor's reaction that a partner never wanted to see. "That's the right kind of attitude, all right, Slim, but it doesn't make it so. I've always left the final say to the Almighty."

"I'll go talk to him."

"The Lord?"

"I'll hit my knees when no one else is around, Doc, but right now I want to talk to Jess. I'd rather this news come from me."

Leaving the doctor behind him, Slim slowly eased the door ajar and let his eyes make the first move of his entry. Jess sat on the edge of the bed, his hand circling around the layers of bandage that wrapped around his entire head. But what Slim thought the most striking of this scene, was that Jess was positioned so that if able, he would be looking out onto the street. Yet he couldn't see anything beyond his eyelids. Or maybe Jess could only see inside of his soul.

He swallowed the thickness that had built in the moment Slim peered inside and then stepped up to the foot of Jess' bed. "How're you feeling, Pard?"

"Better. Doc put some kinda salve on my burns. Head hurts, though."

"Maybe you should lie back."

"Ain't that kinda ache. I reckon my eyes don't like to be confined."

"I don't think any part of you likes to be confined."

Jess' shoulders went up. "You could say that again."

"Well, unfortunately you're going to have to stay that way for awhile. A week to ten days."

"Dad-gum. By the time that stretch's over, I just might think you're as good looking as I am."

Slim wanted to laugh, but he couldn't. His lips were held too tight with concern. "Jess."

"Huh?"

"There's a possibility that, even after that time is past, that you… that you still won't be able to see."

"You mean I'm blind, Slim? Like, really blind?"

"We don't know that yet."

Although his eyes were covered, anger still had a prominent response as it swept over Jess' entire frame. "I am, Slim. Right here, right now. I'm blind. Until something else happens, I'm blind!"

There was no arguing the fact. Jess really was blind. And a gunman was on his way to Laramie to put Jess' draw to the test.

.:.

At least Jess was allowed to go home. Doctor Sweeney felt that Jess would heal better without a doctor's office as his surroundings, and although the night could have been taken in an upstairs room, Slim hitched the buckboard back up and took Jess home.

His partner's hand on his arm, Jess stepped through the front door and immediately pulled in a draft of air. "Why does it smell like some kinda ladies' shop in here?"

"When have you ever been in a ladies' shop to know what it smells like?" Slim asked, trying to make Jess comfortable in his rocker.

Jess shrugged. "I get around. Hey, what'd you waylay my question for?"

"All right, Jess. I'll confess. I was going to put one over on you. Mort and I cooked up some letters, supposedly from lonely ladies looking for a husband."

The smile was small, but there. "Read them to me, will you Slim? I could use a laugh just about now."

"Well, all right. But since you know about the gag beforehand, I doubt they'll have the same affect."

"Just read 'em."

Swiping the envelopes off of the table, Slim pulled open the first. "Dear Jess, even your name has the ring of a church bell, the distinct gong that peals through the air on the morn of a blessed couples' wedding day. I have seared that name inside of my heart, and again, on the finger that will be adorned with your ring. If only distance did not separate us, then I would be at once by your side. Yet even still, I can imagine, if your heart responds like mine, all that needs to be done is allow the wings of our love to rise as one, and we will be together. Perhaps, forever. Signed, a lonely heart waiting to be filled, Columbine McMasters."

"Columbine?" Jess snorted. "What is that, anyway?"

"A flower. Want to hear the next?"

His lips twitched. "Yeah, go ahead."

"Oh my perfect match, Jess Harper. Just knowing that you are as lonely and blue as I am makes my heart explode with desire. I wish you could be here so that the empty place that fills my bosom could beat with an even stronger fervor. But alas, you are not. Even though I have never seen your face, the echo of your name on my lips tells me you are strong, handsome, and so brave that you would sweep me in your arms even if I gave the smallest shudder of fright. At that moment, we would be entwined with my golden hair that flows down my back all the way to the top of my hips, like a halo residing over our combined bodies. Sealed forever. Write just once Jess, and I will be there. Yours to have and to hold, Ophelia White."

"Dad-gum. What were you doing? Sitting by the fire when you wrote that? Miss Ophelia's got a hot streak in her."

"Figured it'd make you turn red."

"Nah. You really think I'd fall for that kinda shenanigan?"

He had hoped. But any part of humor in this charade was gone. Especially now, because Slim had come to the last letter. "The third one's not from a woman."

"Didn't think the other two were anyhow."

Slim stared at his friend. "Jess."

He couldn't meet him eye-to-eye, but he could raise his face to the right level. "What?"

"It's from a man named Lester Keene."

"Dad-gum. I reckon I can kinda read it now without seeing, but go ahead, Slim. Read it out."

"Jess Harper, I'm going to gun you down. The only thing you don't know is when. I guess when you see me in Laramie, you'll know it's time. Fill your hand now, maybe I'm right behind you. Lester Keene."

"See me, he says. But I can't see, Slim. That means Lester Keene's gonna come gun me down."

Jess' hand was already reaching for his gun but stopped short before it touched the butt. The weapon was a part of him that never needed his eyes to pull, but the opposite, needed more than just clear vision, but a clear head. Right now, Jess didn't have either.

Slim watched Jess' fingers change from an open splay to a clenched fist. "I'll help you, Jess. I'll be your eyes."

"You're gonna do what?"

"Be your eyes. I'll describe everything to you down to the smallest detail so you can see it in your mind. I'll train you so that the rest of your senses will be more dominant than mine."

Jess stood. "Then let's get started."

"Jess, it's night out."

"That don't bother me," Jess said, trying to find the window's position with his face, but not confident in his accuracy, turned his position back toward Slim. "But I reckon it would you."

"We'll get started in the morning, Jess. First thing. Right now, let's get you in bed."

.:.

He refrained from growling, but the rumble was still at work inside of his chest. "You ain't gotta lead me by the hand."

"All right, Jess." Slim let go of his partner, but his position being directly in front of him didn't change. "Just call out if you get disoriented."

"Can you tolerate me shouting out every coupla seconds?" Jess' question bit into the air like his teeth could take an actual chunk out of it.

Slim's stance was unwavering. "If that's what it takes."

Hope was rather hard to find in the darkness, as was the hour. Jess' head turned to every angle. "It's kinda chilly. Where's the sun at?"

"Hasn't topped the rise yet. I told you we'd start first thing."

"Then there ain't gonna be any shadows. Just light," Jess said, raising his hand to surround his bandage. "Kinda hard to create that scene behind this."

"Let me see if I can do better." Slim let his vision absorb his surroundings. This was going to be more difficult that he figured. How did one put what he saw into words so that a pair of blank eyes could see it? Especially when Jess was already wearing the cloak of a doubter. He took a deep breath. "All right, the sky's not completely blue, but it's lost all form of darkness. There's a yellow hue to the eastern horizon and out west there's kind of a dusty gray. No clouds, no fog. The dew hasn't dried yet, but the soil isn't damp enough to stick to our boots. The stage horses are corralled, noses in the feed bin, while the saddle mounts are dotting the hillside. The chickens are making themselves dizzy by the bunkhouse. Can't see any cattle. And I'm right in front of you."

Everything out of Slim's mouth was nothing but a paintbrush, dipped into the blackest of ink, splashing darkness deeper and deeper over Jess' eyes. The overwhelming sense of giving up was already leaping from his core and into his mouth, and complete with smoke and fire coming from all of his open holes, he positioned his face to where he knew Slim was. "That last part's as obvious as I'm blind."

"Jess." The note of irritation was clear.

"What?" But Jess' exasperation was even clearer.

"Don't define yourself that way."

"Then why are you out here teaching me how to function as a blind man if I ain't a blind man?"

"I'm teaching you how to be strong despite your condition, just as I would if you'd lost an arm or a leg."

Only one man could stare, yet their heads remained locked in the position of a double penetrating gaze. It was Jess that broke it first, or rather, it was defeat that brought the crumbling of his backbone, taking Jess' head to point to the ground.

Slim's hand went into Jess' shoulder. "But I'm also teaching you because you're my friend, the kind of friend that doesn't give up this easily, especially when there's a gunman after him."

The sigh didn't have the dull tone of failure, and its returning intake had enough positivity in its outline that Jess' chin could rise. "Slim, could you say all that stuff again? I mean, what you could see, but past the weather part."

"All right. The stage horses are corralled, noses in the feed bin."

Jess turned toward the corral, the sound of the animal's munching connecting the lines behind his eyes that weren't there before. "And then?"

"The saddle mounts are dotting the hillside."

Again Jess turned. Grazing he couldn't hear, or couldn't he? Jess cocked his head to the side. Pull, snip, chew. Pull, snip, chew. That was them. He smiled. "Then what?"

"The chickens are making themselves dizzy, but now they're closer to the shower stalls."

That was easy to pick out. Very little could drown out a chicken's squawk, but Jess never realized they made so much noise in their pecking. Shrugging off Slim's arm that was his guiding support, Jess walked toward the nip of their beaks, his steps purposely going into the center of their fray. Wings flapping at his legs, Jess kneeled down, his hand crawling across the ground until he felt a dried corn kernel. Pressing it into the center of his palm, he gauged the closest chicken and then held out his hand. The swipe was so quick, even undamaged eyes wouldn't have caught it. The rest of his senses did, even down to smelling the deposit the chicken left as it scurried to the next morsel, this being a fat beetle, which Jess could tell wasn't corn by the louder crunch.

"I'll be dadgummed." Light went into Jess' cheeks as he sought Slim's looming height above him. "All right, Slim. I think I'm ready to learn. But one question first."

"What's that?"

"You gonna whop my backend if I'm unruly in class?"

"I've got a leather switch in my pocket just for that occasion." He really didn't, but the tease served its purpose, making Jess' rock-hard jaw turn into a smile. Slim's grew into a perfect match. "All right, Jess. Let's get started. Stand where you are and I'm going to walk away from you."

His reaction was to follow. "You're gonna do what?"

"Walk away," Slim answered, putting his hands on Jess' shoulders to still him. "Then you tell me when you can hear my boots hit the ground when I come back."

Jess stood still, his head low in his concentration, the silence as deafening as his vision. Suddenly his body jerked around. "Hey, how'd you get to my back?"

"I walked all the way around you."

"I didn't hear a thing." Jess shook his head. "This ain't gonna work, Slim."

"It is. Remember out on the Lolo Trail? If your instincts can wake you up fast enough to put your gun in hand, then your ears are sharp enough to catch everything that's around you. The only thing that's different is that you relied on your eyes. Now rely on your ears. As for your instincts, nothing has changed."

"You think?"

"I know. Come on, Jess. Let's start over," Slim said, softly walking toward Jess. "Now, listen! What do you hear?"

Jess barely took a breath. "Steps. You're coming at me." His finger drew into a point. "Over there."

Slim stopped. "Good. What else?"

His face scrunched to match his study. "Uh… I ain't…"

Slim's hand performed the repeat.

His singed brows jumped behind the bandage. "That's it! You slapped leather."

"And what do you do when your opponent goes for his gun?"

Jess drew, the speed close enough to normalcy to call it lightning-like, but his thumb stopped short of rocking the hammer. "Now what?"

"I'm certainly not going to let you fire on me," Slim answered, and searching for a solution, his eyes wandered around the perimeter, but it was his sight drawing upward to a wing's span that made his fingers connect with a snap. "I'll tell you what, I'll get you a target. The scarecrow we used for last summer's corn crop should do."

"How're you gonna get him to draw on me?"

"Well, he won't. I'll flick a rock to his right side and when you hear it drop, that's him going for his gun."

Jess listened to every movement that Slim made, his mind drawing a picture of the sounds. The scarecrow was made out of last year's hay crop, stuffed into an old pair of Slim's britches and button-up top. His insides brittle after all that time in storage, Jess heard Slim shuffle over the loose pieces that fell from his shirtsleeves. Considering the whoosh, and a crinkly-crumpled walk, he lost more of his girth when Slim set him up against a tree's trunk.

Jess made a rather accurate point. "Anything left of him?"

Slim's eyes shone their surprise. "Not much. Less after what we've got planned."

"As long as I hit him," Jess said, the doubt starting to dim the internal image. Letting his gun hand relax, Jess shook his head, the picture regaining its clarity. Strangely enough, the scarecrow in his mind's eye did look like Lester Keene, considering the man's messy blonde hair always looked like it needed some shearers.

"All right, Jess. I'm going to be as silent as I possibly can. The only sound you're searching for is the rock, the release of his iron."

He figured Slim would drag it out. If he immediately tossed the rock when Jess was expecting it, the challenge wouldn't be as intense. Yet the waiting process felt as grueling as facing the real deal. Like how it would be at work in a real gun battle, anxiety was doing its thing. Breaths came through parted lips. His pulse hammered against his temples. Sweat dripped down Jess' chin. But then all went calm when he heard the flick of a wrist.

Thunk.

Gun handle in his grasp, Jess' thumb hit the hammer while his forefinger released the bullet. The blast might have rocked the world around him, but Jess' stance stayed solid. He let the smoking gun lower while his face sought Slim's. "How'd I do?"

"If that had been Lester Keene in front of you, he'd be a dead man," Slim said, wishing that he could answer with pride as he stared at the hole in the scarecrow's center. But all he felt was dread.

The only problem was that Lester Keene would have taken a shot too. And unless he missed, Jess Harper would also be a dead man.

.:.

Slim stared at the scarecrow, its guts so full of holes that the entire thing was just a wisp of what it used to be. But after five days of being on the opposite side of Jess' practicing, anything would be on the verge of keeling over. Jess had just now unloaded his pistol into the threadbare shirt the scarecrow wore and like all of the times before, turned to Slim and inquired of his accuracy.

"Spot on, Jess," Slim answered, his hand giving his weapon a twirling return to leather.

What Jess didn't know was that Slim was assessing another draw and aim. His own. It was true that Slim hadn't fired once, but every time that the rock went airborne, making its tell-all landing, and Jess drew, Slim pulled his own. Lost in the cacophony of Jess' gunfire, the sound of Slim's gun being removed went unnoticed.

Slim wasn't up to Jess' speed yet, but he was getting closer. But was "close" going to be enough to take on a man with a similar reputation? Slim didn't know. If his plan was going to stretch all the way to being a real action he would find out quick enough, maybe finding himself with the wrong view of the undertaker's office.

He looked again at the scarecrow, its head bobbing low like a worn ragdoll. If that really was Lester Keene, Slim would be looking straight into a penetrating glare, because Slim was going to stand in Jess' place. He had to. Jess was working through this challenge like he faced all of the others in his life, but the fact remained the same. Jess was blind. Slim couldn't let him face the gunman that was coming.

His head whipping toward the sound that suddenly pierced through his thoughts, Slim looked at Jess' cocked head. "What was that Jess?"

"I asked if you'd refill my gun for me. I wanna try again."

"Feeling itchy or something?" Slim asked, taking Jess' iron in hand.

One shoulder went up. "Kinda."

So was Slim. He had heard Jess describe the prelude of a gunfight enough times to know that the men behind the guns could often sense the close presence of their opponent, long before the stances were put in place. At this morning's rise, Slim could feel the agitation going up with the sun. But that didn't make Slim blood-related to a gunman. No, it just meant that he was a close friend with one.

The scarecrow bending another notch lower from another round of lead, Slim's head angled upward. "First stage won't be long now, Jess. Probably should put the iron up."

"I reckon." Jess' gun returned to its seat. "Tell me true, Slim. Am I gonna make it?"

Slim nodded, his answer, holding an entirely different meaning than the one Jess was looking for. "Yeah. You're going to make it, Jess."

Slim would make certain of it.

He had just put the team of horses, dusty from their ride, into the corral when Slim's backbone no longer felt like hot coals were sliding up and down it. His entire frame was suddenly rigid. Turning, Slim's chest felt its most brutal leap when he saw the stranger leaning against the hitching post, cigarette being stomped out by his foot.

Slim didn't figure he had to ask, but he put the words through his lips anyway. "Who're you?"

His eyes seemed to be at a permanent slant, looking around the yard. "Where's Jess Harper?"

That was a good question. He had to be close by, but Slim wasn't about to do a shout out for his partner.

Slim lowered his voice, but the promise rang louder than a church bell on the clearest of Sunday morns. "To get to him, you'll have to go through me."

"And you are?"

"Slim Sherman."

Keene smirked. "Never heard of you."

"So." Slim shrugged. "I don't need a reputation to see you to your grave."

The eyes moved around the perimeter again, and still not finding Jess, his evil shade collided with Slim's. "I suppose I'm not opposed to putting two notches on my gun."

"You haven't got one yet."

Keene gave a single nod. The challenge was accepted, and licking his top lip, Slim prepared his stance.

Jess' backbone must have been a walkway for a pack of ants by the way it scratched. It was the reason why he took a walk to the ridge behind the house, listening for the sound of Lester Keene's horse coming on the road. But the only noise Jess knew was the stagecoach pulling in and out.

Reaching his hand for the bandage around his eyes, Jess sighed. Hope was growing thinner these last few days. Filling the morning hours putting his gunfighter's skills to the test helped boost his confidence, but nothing could change the fact that he was blind. And what was he now? Two days at the minimum to knowing if it was going to be permanent?

His finger played with the undersides of the bandage, tempted to know now, but then with a ferocity that only Jess could ever understand, his hand thwacked his side, immediately growing into a fist. The angry bursts were coming more frequently, but he had to tame them, at least for now. Once Lester Keene was taken care of, then Jess could allow his being to react in its proper way to being blind. Anger, sorrow, and even fear.

Slim was always by his side, and Jess was thankful for that, but Jess didn't want his partner to be his guide forever. Or what could become even worse, become his stand-in.

Suddenly the feeling was no longer reserved for Jess' back, but was making his gut clench.

His head turned sharply toward the barnyard. That wasn't just Slim's voice he heard, but a pair. But what caught Jess' attention the most was the tone coming from Slim. He sounded like Jess. Hard, yet smooth, and willing to die.

Going by the sound of the voices alone, Jess ran, his steps turning into a skid as he went downhill. "Slim, don't!"

But it was too late. The guns went off, and Jess heard the sickening thump of a body hitting dirt.

"Slim!" Jess ran toward the sound, his breaths hot, the fear even hotter. "Answer me! Slim!"

Nearly stumbling over the outstretched boots, Jess lowered, his hands reaching out for life. It was already stiff. No! His fingers stretched for the pulse that belonged in the chest, but all he could feel was the warm moisture, bubbling from the hole. Touch wasn't good enough. He had to see. He had to see right now!

Jess' hand on the bandage, he ripped it away from his face. There was light, along with stabbing pain, but there was light. There could be no elation in the thought that his vision still had existence, not when the one on the other side of his eyes was stuck in darkness.

Tears streaking down his face were the result of the pain, but Jess could have easily been crying for another reason. There was blood. Too much blood. And although color was as far as Jess' eyes could see, he saw another shade that made the internal sobs cut even deeper. The man's blonde locks lay still in the dirt. Slim.

Jess' sleeve doused what was coursing down his cheeks. "Why, Slim. Why'd you have to go and do this?"

"I had to save you, Jess."

He turned sharply, and there was Slim was standing above him. The blur was too significant to see every feature, but the connecting line of blue was clear. He turned his head toward the other man and the exclamation point was stamped over his soul. It was Lester Keene on the ground.

Slim's hands attached to Jess' shoulders. "He skimmed my scalp with his bullet, knocking me out for a minute or two, but I'm all right. You?"

He wasn't. The pain and the tears were at an even stronger assault.

"My eyes!" Jess' hands covered his closed lids. "They burn like the fire's got them all over again."

"But you could see?"

"A little. It hurts though, Slim. Dad-gum, it hurts. I dunno what it means."

"I'll get you to Doc's right away."

The wagon bed rattled over the roadway, but this time, Jess wasn't stuck in its rear, but seated next to Slim, his eyes feeling the pressure of the handkerchief that he held there, along with another heavy weight against his chest. "You shouldn't have done it, Slim."

"Like I said, I had to save you."

"So were you lying to me that I was shooting the scarecrow to smithereens?"

"No, you obliterated him, all right."

One hand came away from his face to pound into his thigh. "Then why'd you take my place?"

"It's simple, Jess. You seem to have forgotten that the scarecrow could never shoot back. But Lester Keene could. I rather doubt he'd have much compassion on a blind man. So I did."

"Yeah, but Slim…"

"Just calm down, Jess. If you want to fight this out with me, let's do it after I get you to the doc's, okay?"

His head going into a shake, Jess sighed. "I reckon I can wait that long to chew your hide a bit more."

But there wouldn't be a need for further gnawing of flesh.

Doctor Sweeney gave his head a shake as he tied the loose ends of Jess' bandage together. "You're healing, Jess, and I believe you'll be able to regain all of your vision. But when will you ever learn to follow orders? Taking that bandage off so soon could have been detrimental."

Jess' mouth opened, but the response was all from Slim.

"Because friendship doesn't have any limits, Doc. It does what it has to do, not even thinking about the cost."

Jess' blank eyes turned toward Slim, but even through the covering, they still connected. "I reckon that's the reason why you were out there with Keene and I wasn't."

"Something like that, Jess."

"Thanks, Pard," Jess said, reaching his hand out toward Slim's voice.

Slim smiled, taking the hand into his for a brotherly grip. "Anytime, Jess."

.:.

The bandage had been fully off for a few days. Light, color, and every clear line that turned those shades to brilliance was fully returned to Jess' eyes. He could have been out riding, absorbing every image that had been lost to darkness, but at least at this moment, he was specifically waiting for the stage to roll in.

Getting Mose back on the road in a near record speed, Jess walked into the house, envelope outstretched toward Slim's clasp.

Slim's eyebrow went up. "What's this?"

"Looks like a letter for you."

Slim's nose took in the aroma coming from the envelope, but before his eyes could grow wide, he shook his head. "Oh, no, Jess. I'm not going to fall for any of this."

"What's to fall for, except for some lonely female?"

"It can't be a real trick when it's already been done."

"It ain't a trick. It's real."

Slim's nose took in another puff. "Real?"

"Yeah. The day I got my vision back I saw a notice in the Gazette that a spinster outta Cheyenne is looking for a husband. So I wrote her back and signed your name to it. That must be her reply. Come on and open it, tell me when the wedding's gonna be."

"Jess, I ought to…"

"Just read it."

With a firmly placed wince on Slim's face, his finger tore through the envelope, and as he pulled out the fragrant sheet, the boldly printed script made the switch, ending with his lips in a twitch. "All it says is, 'Gotcha'."

Jess' laugh soared above the ceiling. "And I sure did."

"That's not all what's going to get got!" Slim reached for Jess, but his partner was too quick.

Running through the door and across the yard, Jess leapt over the corral, dodging Slim's hot pursuit by rolling back under the bottom rung. He kept the pace, staying just far enough away from Slim to not get caught, only falling to his knees when both chests became winded. Lying on his back, Jess stared at the blue sky, silently reveling in its unmatched beauty. But then a similar shade was looming directly over him.

"I'm sure glad you can see this, Jess."

"See what?"

"This," Slim answered, pouring a bucket of water over Jess' face.

Sputtering, Jess sat up, his fingers going over his eyelids. "You know what, Pard. Me too."