Jenni, Bookbinder's Daughter, Conookie, and :D i love you guys right down to your threads...this entire story's dedicated to you. for making everything possible
CHAPTER ELEVEN - Melon Cold Absorption
"Frank?" He came up straight from what he thought was a dream, the piss poor excuse for a blanket off to one side of him. He'd been stripped of everything except his shirt, pants, and suspenders. Everything else had been taken, including his stockings and boots, to impede him from walking, he guessed.
The blood on Frank's switched shirt had begun to dry now that he was out of the rain, the large bloom growing hard like a circular plate as he put his fingers to it.
Blinking his vision into focus, Jesse took a look around the barn they'd moved him to. He was lying on a thatch of musty smelling straw with some mule's old pack blanket thrown over him to keep out the cold vainly. The barn was huge, lined with horse stalls and some with horses in them, snuffing out white plumes of breath through their large nostrils.
Pain was evident every time he moved, singing like a hundred larks trapped in his ribcage and his skull, especially towards the back. He reached up to the back of his head and felt a rather large welt there, but no split skin upon further investigation.
"Frank?" He called out, his loud voice stirring some of the drowsy horses but no other sound coming up to determine that his brother was in the same vicinity.
Crimping as he rose, he pushed himself to his feet and went stumbling towards the front door. As he threw his shoulder into the chain locked doors, he heard the rain still coming down outside, pounding into the ground and diffusing any sense of life anywhere outside of his new makeshift prison.
With one arm cupped about his sore torso, he tilted himself upward to see the loft skirting around the walls of the barn, seeing if there could be a possible escape route. But there was neither a ladder to climb up there, nor any sort of opening that he could crawl out through.
Shivering and bringing his arms about his shoulders as the cold swept passed him, he bumped his bruises, sucking in his breath. Treading to the middle of the almost empty barn, he stretched out and looked down his collar, seeing if he could see just what'd been done to him. But not getting enough light in, pulled the hems of it out of his pants and unbuttoning it, revealing a nice mess of bruises, ranging in color to their grievance.
The yellow and brown ones hurt the worst, looking like a rotting fruit might, while the purple stung but were easily ignored. Touching the back of his swollen head once more to feel the bump and the sharp pain in punishment for the touch, he heard someone at the doors, jangling the chain that bound them together.
Deciding not to move, giving himself space if he needed it, he listened as the lock was unlocked and the chains were dropped, before he watched the eleven foot doors wobble inwards as a man about a head higher than himself walked into the barn, his dark collar pulled up high about his neck with his bowler hat pulled low over his brow.
Jesse's first instinct that this was an entire set up by some of the Rain's men, having somehow gotten ahead of him and had finally caught the great Jesse James.
But when the man raised his head, Jesse knew he wasn't anyone even associated to Rains or anyone of the like. The man turned out to be just a kid, looking the same age as Jesse but younger in the way that he didn't hold his shoulders as astutely when he walked. His long black duster hung like a shroud around his thin frame, skirting at his ankles with his bare hands shoved deeply into his pockets. The coat was left open - despite the cold - to reveal two down turned revolvers at ready on his belt, their ivory handles standing out vigorously against his otherwise all black attire. His black shirt with thin white pinstripes weren't enough to be seen, especially because of the deep black vest he wore over it.
As he came closer, Jesse was quick to notice his burning blue eyes, under shadowed by a healthy swath of a black goatee encircling his mouth. It looked much like Frank's, only more close cut and without the sideburns coming down in front of his ears.
The man stopped a few feet away from Jesse, his hands coming out of his pockets, pink-knuckled and pale from the cold. One carried a thick brown book that looked to have papers and all sorts of things stuffed inside of its leaves, while the other went to cradle itself on the inside of his revolver hilt and his waist.
"Where's my brother?" Jesse asked and man turned his shoulder to him, still looking at him with somewhat interest as Jesse rebuttoned his shirt.
"He's in the house." The man made a motion towards back where he'd come from with his book.
"Did you kill him?" Jesse felt the hair rise on the back of his neck at the thought.
The man just tilted an eyebrow as if it were a ludicrous idea, the look in his bright blue eyes seeing Jesse as a concerned equal. "No," he shook his head and never turned away from Jesse's eyes. "We just got him sleeping."
"What about Robert?" He was going on what he remembered, finding that his arms had strayed back around him to try and keep out the cold.
The man's head tilted back and he licked at his bottom lip, the light revealing a scar trailing up from the corner of the man's mouth, fluttering up to weave back and forth lazily until it stopped at the side of his eye, the skin pale and raised, a long old scar. It did nothing to complicate his uniquely handsome features, but it was something that caught and held the eye.
The man just shook his head and put it back down, covering his face with the shadow of his hat's brim, hiding the scar. "He went away."
"Where?" Jesse asked, taking a step towards the man, who didn't move from his position.
"Probably into town."
"Where is town?"
"Black Hawk? About a three hour ride from here."
Jesse let out a sigh and it came out white, his swollen lip stinging. "You come in here to check on me?"
The man tipped his head to his hand, running his thumb along the thick spine of his brown book, the cover in horrible condition from extensive use, the once red-edged pages now flipped to a musty pink gray. It took Jesse a moment to realize it was a bible.
"Or to kill me?"
The man's head tilted back up as he looked him straight in the eye. "I need a reason to kill you?"
"Hell," Jesse didn't let his arms free as he talked, feeling like ice was growing up his bare feet and enclosing up his legs. "I busted into your house and destroyed your property. I'd of shot me by now." He rubbed his frozen hands down his shoulders, surprised at the fact that there was little feeling there.
The man licked at his teeth before dropping his shoulder and looking to the ground. Then, he came forward, his one hand coming out of the cradle on his belt towards Jesse, revolver-less to hang by his side.
Jesse figured the man pitied him, but knew the man wasn't a deadhead. The kid, in fact, looked silently sharp through those brilliant blue eyes, something Jesse didn't really ever want to touch with his own brain.
"We've got supper going in the house, I can fix you up with a bowl and a room if you're willing."
Jesse just looked at him.
"You willing?" He said.
"Sure."
"If you're gonna be here and you want your brother alive, no bullshit." He was deadly serious.
Jesse tipped his head, fully agreeing. "No bullshit."
Then, that revolver-less hand came out towards Jesse, wanting his own. Stiffly, Jesse reached out and took the man's long, thin strong hand in his and they shook, looking each other in the eye bluntly and intently.
"Charlie Ford." The man introduced himself.
"Jesse James." He was surprised that the man didn't hesitate on his name, in fact, he did little more than turn his back to him and head towards the door, not slowing a pace as Jesse caught up.
Charlie pushed the doors wide and drew his collar up around his neck again, as the rain pounded into his shoulders. Jesse felt Frank's shirt immediately plaster to his shoulders and chest, the bloodstain growing soft again. With the barn doors closed behind them, they made their way out into the full force of the rain, heading towards the house, neither man straying a step ahead of the other.
As Jesse's bare, cold feet sloughed through the muddy ground and up onto the lane he'd come barreling down only a few hours before, he saw what he hadn't seen on the first sight of the house. Its backside was pressed up against the large hillside, the broad white face of it shining out against the dark velvet sky and blurred hill.
The house was ornately carved, with cloven pillars and chapel-like windows gleaming on its front. Standing vertically were white, fancy carved barge boards that covered the whole exterior of the house, looking old and almost Victorian in a sense, but not on such a grand scale. The house obviously belonged to someone of wealth, but they were serene about it as they lived in and around the area.
As they came upon it, the front fence was still broken from his bust through with the horse and the dead horse still lay capsized in the front yard. A great streak of mud leading like a trail up to its dead body from the slide.
Charlie and Jesse sidestepped the horse and went up onto the porch, Jesse silently giving thanks that there was finally a cover from the rain that had again soaked him completely through.
As they stepped into the door, he was motioned to stand where he was and did so without resistance, seeing that the entryway - which had once been in a state of disarray - was now somewhat cleaned up. Only little fragments of the crushed vase and the drying carpet made evidence of him even being there.
The smaller woman from before came out with her hands at the apron on her dress when she saw Jesse mopped in the corner, she stopped, just staring. Charlie went to her and had to take her by the shoulders, telling her something so quiet Jesse couldn't hear it. But when the man turned back, he was pulling his soaking coat off his shoulders and laying it across her arms, giving her his hat as well, revealing a head of sweaty black hair.
Then, without saying anything, Charlie began to scoot the girl back into the door she'd come out of, even when she put up a protest. Turning, as the girl left the room, he came towards Jesse and was opened him mouth to talk when the girl came back in. Having shed Charlie's hat and coat in the dining room, she now held a pair of new pants in her arms, slightly wet from her previous burden.
Charlie took them from her and handed them over to Jesse, who unfolded them and looked at them admiringly. Then the two just simply turned their backs to him, Charlie putting his arms around the girl's shoulders to keep her from turning back.
Pulling himself out of the corner, Jesse unshouldered his suspenders and pushed down his trousers, switching into the other clean pants.
When he looked up, he saw the girl glance away from the reflection in a large mirror at the back of the hall and he couldn't help but smile.
Clearing his throat to signal he was done, Charlie turned and took Jesse's dirty, wet pants, handing them to the girl and motioning for Jesse to follow him as he made his way up the stairs.
The top of the stairs curled into a second floor that more clung to the walls of the house, most of the middle gone to see down into the first level. Breaking off into a long hallway was a group of doors, leading to separated rooms, about five in all. Four opposite each other on the sides of the hall while another one stood in the back. Charlie was pointing out rooms as they walked down them.
On the left side of the wall, between the two doors, it broke off into another hallway, leading out towards the hillside. As they passed, Charlie gave him a quick tour.
"Your brother is in here." He pointed to the hall that broke off into the hill, separated by a gap in stairs. "Your the next door down. I'm across from you. And the Colonel is in that room." He pointed to the far door at the end of the hall as he palmed open the door to Jesse's new room.
The wallpaper was a collage of beautiful blue and gold marquees, diffused at the huge oak head of his bed that nearly touched the ceiling with its steepled headboard. His sheets were white and crisp and tucked nicely under the mattress. His pillow was fluffed and a blue quilt matching the walls had been turned to down, everything prepared.
Jesse turned back to Charlie, who was standing in the doorway, his eyes down the hall.
"How is he?"
"I don't know." He confessed.
Not liking that, Jesse shouldered his way past him, and went down the hall, breaking out into that off-joining hallway, opening a door to lead out into a little square of deck before another set of steps led up to the loft door. "Jesse."
Jesse palmed himself in, craning his head until he saw Frank lying on his right side in the middle of a pile of blankets, all kicked down so that only one sheet was pulled across him.
Frank was kicking and moaning, the girl having to grab him sometimes when he'd roll over on his stomach and groan.
"What are you doing in here?" She asked, looking up from Frank as Jesse came over to him, worried.
"What's wrong with him?" He bent over and shook his brother's shoulder, "Frank?" The woman tapped his arm, demanding he let him be.
"I just got him to sleep, you're disturbing him..."
"Why's he doing that?" Jesse stood back, watching his brother twist and moan.
"It's the Laudaman, he's having delusions."
"I thought you were out in the barn..." she looked to her brother, who tipped his head in apology. "Sorry Annie...couldn't keep him in the barn, n'case Rob came back in to put his horse away. I don't want to have to bury anyone in this weather."
Nodding dismissively, the girl moved over towards a black belly stove near the corner of the loft, tucking her hands into her dress apron to lift a pitcher of milk and vinegar from its top. She moved it down and put it on the floor when she sat in the bedside chair.
Frank was wheezing hoarsely and he coughed for long moments after each breath, the woman reaching out gently to put a hand on his shoulder until he quieted, then went about stirring the vinegar in the milk with a long wooden spoon.
"What's that?-" Jesse began.
Suddenly, Frank's eyes rolled beneath his eyelids and fluttered open. His face was a pasty white, save for the redness about his eyes, the large droplets of sweat augmenting his paleness as they rolled down his face.
"Jesse -" he just barely got out his name, before a coughing fit seized him by the chest.
The woman was up out of her chair and leaning over him, a couple strands of hair pulling free of her hairpins and hanging about her face in brown sausage curls before she pushed them back behind her ears. Frank whimpered in pain as she consoled him. "It's alright, just lie still. I've got you..." She stroked his hair and face.
"That's it," she soothed as he began to calm, "Easy. You're alright." She rubbed at his shoulders softly, as Jesse had done so many times before, to try and bring warmth to him.
"Charlie?" She turned over her shoulder without letting go of Frank. "Put a couple vinegar curds into that cloth on the table, would you?" Charlie did so, handing the lumpy cloth to the woman who immediately pressed it against Frank's arm wound. Pulling up the hem of his shirt out from his pants, she did the same to his side wounds. Frank's face twisted for a moment as she pushed them into the blood, then, his face turned soft as the warm liquid soothed his raw, torn skin.
As he slackened, the woman leaned off him and Jesse watched his eyes slide close. Working her way around the small, crowded space, she went back to the stove and held her hands out towards it, testing its heat, before she put a big bowl of water on top of it. Then, she came back over and pulled the covers up over Frank's shoulders, tucking them around his still rocking body, before sitting back and looking at Jesse.
"The doctor comes tomorrow morning, sunrise at the earliest depending on the train. Usually it's on time though." Charlie said, seeing the concern. "I'm going tomorrow if -"
"I'm coming with you." There was no question in his voice.
Charlie thought about it, but never said a word.
Rising, Annie went back to the simmering bowl and dipped her hand into it, before removing it from the stove and bringing it back near her as she sat down again. Reaching in, she took out one of the towels draped across the bottom of the bowl and wrung out some of the extra water, pulling the covers back down from Frank's torso.
"If you boys don't mind, he needs to sleep and you need to get yourself a new pair of clothes." She cocked a thin eyebrow towards Jesse.
"This's Jesse..." but Charlie's words were bitten off.
"So I gathered, and what about his name?" She pointed down to his brother.
"His name's Frank," Jesse commented and the woman turned away.
"I need you two out of here. Now go on." She began wiping down Frank's chest with the warm water, soothing him. Mopping up the sweat from his face and his chest, she re-dipped it before she let it set across his chest, warming him.
Jesse looked once to his brother, Charlie catching him by the shoulder as he started towards the door, taking him with him. "He'll be alright, my sister'll watch him."
Jesse watched until he couldn't see anymore, his neck craning to see her take another cloth from the bowl wrap it across Frank's throat, calming his coughing as best she could. Before the door was shut on his face.
CHAPTER ELEVEN - Melon Cold Absorption
"Frank?" He came up straight from what he thought was a dream, the piss poor excuse for a blanket off to one side of him. He'd been stripped of everything except his shirt, pants, and suspenders. Everything else had been taken, including his stockings and boots, to impede him from walking, he guessed.
The blood on Frank's switched shirt had begun to dry now that he was out of the rain, the large bloom growing hard like a circular plate as he put his fingers to it.
Blinking his vision into focus, Jesse took a look around the barn they'd moved him to. He was lying on a thatch of musty smelling straw with some mule's old pack blanket thrown over him to keep out the cold vainly. The barn was huge, lined with horse stalls and some with horses in them, snuffing out white plumes of breath through their large nostrils.
Pain was evident every time he moved, singing like a hundred larks trapped in his ribcage and his skull, especially towards the back. He reached up to the back of his head and felt a rather large welt there, but no split skin upon further investigation.
"Frank?" He called out, his loud voice stirring some of the drowsy horses but no other sound coming up to determine that his brother was in the same vicinity.
Crimping as he rose, he pushed himself to his feet and went stumbling towards the front door. As he threw his shoulder into the chain locked doors, he heard the rain still coming down outside, pounding into the ground and diffusing any sense of life anywhere outside of his new makeshift prison.
With one arm cupped about his sore torso, he tilted himself upward to see the loft skirting around the walls of the barn, seeing if there could be a possible escape route. But there was neither a ladder to climb up there, nor any sort of opening that he could crawl out through.
Shivering and bringing his arms about his shoulders as the cold swept passed him, he bumped his bruises, sucking in his breath. Treading to the middle of the almost empty barn, he stretched out and looked down his collar, seeing if he could see just what'd been done to him. But not getting enough light in, pulled the hems of it out of his pants and unbuttoning it, revealing a nice mess of bruises, ranging in color to their grievance.
The yellow and brown ones hurt the worst, looking like a rotting fruit might, while the purple stung but were easily ignored. Touching the back of his swollen head once more to feel the bump and the sharp pain in punishment for the touch, he heard someone at the doors, jangling the chain that bound them together.
Deciding not to move, giving himself space if he needed it, he listened as the lock was unlocked and the chains were dropped, before he watched the eleven foot doors wobble inwards as a man about a head higher than himself walked into the barn, his dark collar pulled up high about his neck with his bowler hat pulled low over his brow.
Jesse's first instinct that this was an entire set up by some of the Rain's men, having somehow gotten ahead of him and had finally caught the great Jesse James.
But when the man raised his head, Jesse knew he wasn't anyone even associated to Rains or anyone of the like. The man turned out to be just a kid, looking the same age as Jesse but younger in the way that he didn't hold his shoulders as astutely when he walked. His long black duster hung like a shroud around his thin frame, skirting at his ankles with his bare hands shoved deeply into his pockets. The coat was left open - despite the cold - to reveal two down turned revolvers at ready on his belt, their ivory handles standing out vigorously against his otherwise all black attire. His black shirt with thin white pinstripes weren't enough to be seen, especially because of the deep black vest he wore over it.
As he came closer, Jesse was quick to notice his burning blue eyes, under shadowed by a healthy swath of a black goatee encircling his mouth. It looked much like Frank's, only more close cut and without the sideburns coming down in front of his ears.
The man stopped a few feet away from Jesse, his hands coming out of his pockets, pink-knuckled and pale from the cold. One carried a thick brown book that looked to have papers and all sorts of things stuffed inside of its leaves, while the other went to cradle itself on the inside of his revolver hilt and his waist.
"Where's my brother?" Jesse asked and man turned his shoulder to him, still looking at him with somewhat interest as Jesse rebuttoned his shirt.
"He's in the house." The man made a motion towards back where he'd come from with his book.
"Did you kill him?" Jesse felt the hair rise on the back of his neck at the thought.
The man just tilted an eyebrow as if it were a ludicrous idea, the look in his bright blue eyes seeing Jesse as a concerned equal. "No," he shook his head and never turned away from Jesse's eyes. "We just got him sleeping."
"What about Robert?" He was going on what he remembered, finding that his arms had strayed back around him to try and keep out the cold.
The man's head tilted back and he licked at his bottom lip, the light revealing a scar trailing up from the corner of the man's mouth, fluttering up to weave back and forth lazily until it stopped at the side of his eye, the skin pale and raised, a long old scar. It did nothing to complicate his uniquely handsome features, but it was something that caught and held the eye.
The man just shook his head and put it back down, covering his face with the shadow of his hat's brim, hiding the scar. "He went away."
"Where?" Jesse asked, taking a step towards the man, who didn't move from his position.
"Probably into town."
"Where is town?"
"Black Hawk? About a three hour ride from here."
Jesse let out a sigh and it came out white, his swollen lip stinging. "You come in here to check on me?"
The man tipped his head to his hand, running his thumb along the thick spine of his brown book, the cover in horrible condition from extensive use, the once red-edged pages now flipped to a musty pink gray. It took Jesse a moment to realize it was a bible.
"Or to kill me?"
The man's head tilted back up as he looked him straight in the eye. "I need a reason to kill you?"
"Hell," Jesse didn't let his arms free as he talked, feeling like ice was growing up his bare feet and enclosing up his legs. "I busted into your house and destroyed your property. I'd of shot me by now." He rubbed his frozen hands down his shoulders, surprised at the fact that there was little feeling there.
The man licked at his teeth before dropping his shoulder and looking to the ground. Then, he came forward, his one hand coming out of the cradle on his belt towards Jesse, revolver-less to hang by his side.
Jesse figured the man pitied him, but knew the man wasn't a deadhead. The kid, in fact, looked silently sharp through those brilliant blue eyes, something Jesse didn't really ever want to touch with his own brain.
"We've got supper going in the house, I can fix you up with a bowl and a room if you're willing."
Jesse just looked at him.
"You willing?" He said.
"Sure."
"If you're gonna be here and you want your brother alive, no bullshit." He was deadly serious.
Jesse tipped his head, fully agreeing. "No bullshit."
Then, that revolver-less hand came out towards Jesse, wanting his own. Stiffly, Jesse reached out and took the man's long, thin strong hand in his and they shook, looking each other in the eye bluntly and intently.
"Charlie Ford." The man introduced himself.
"Jesse James." He was surprised that the man didn't hesitate on his name, in fact, he did little more than turn his back to him and head towards the door, not slowing a pace as Jesse caught up.
Charlie pushed the doors wide and drew his collar up around his neck again, as the rain pounded into his shoulders. Jesse felt Frank's shirt immediately plaster to his shoulders and chest, the bloodstain growing soft again. With the barn doors closed behind them, they made their way out into the full force of the rain, heading towards the house, neither man straying a step ahead of the other.
As Jesse's bare, cold feet sloughed through the muddy ground and up onto the lane he'd come barreling down only a few hours before, he saw what he hadn't seen on the first sight of the house. Its backside was pressed up against the large hillside, the broad white face of it shining out against the dark velvet sky and blurred hill.
The house was ornately carved, with cloven pillars and chapel-like windows gleaming on its front. Standing vertically were white, fancy carved barge boards that covered the whole exterior of the house, looking old and almost Victorian in a sense, but not on such a grand scale. The house obviously belonged to someone of wealth, but they were serene about it as they lived in and around the area.
As they came upon it, the front fence was still broken from his bust through with the horse and the dead horse still lay capsized in the front yard. A great streak of mud leading like a trail up to its dead body from the slide.
Charlie and Jesse sidestepped the horse and went up onto the porch, Jesse silently giving thanks that there was finally a cover from the rain that had again soaked him completely through.
As they stepped into the door, he was motioned to stand where he was and did so without resistance, seeing that the entryway - which had once been in a state of disarray - was now somewhat cleaned up. Only little fragments of the crushed vase and the drying carpet made evidence of him even being there.
The smaller woman from before came out with her hands at the apron on her dress when she saw Jesse mopped in the corner, she stopped, just staring. Charlie went to her and had to take her by the shoulders, telling her something so quiet Jesse couldn't hear it. But when the man turned back, he was pulling his soaking coat off his shoulders and laying it across her arms, giving her his hat as well, revealing a head of sweaty black hair.
Then, without saying anything, Charlie began to scoot the girl back into the door she'd come out of, even when she put up a protest. Turning, as the girl left the room, he came towards Jesse and was opened him mouth to talk when the girl came back in. Having shed Charlie's hat and coat in the dining room, she now held a pair of new pants in her arms, slightly wet from her previous burden.
Charlie took them from her and handed them over to Jesse, who unfolded them and looked at them admiringly. Then the two just simply turned their backs to him, Charlie putting his arms around the girl's shoulders to keep her from turning back.
Pulling himself out of the corner, Jesse unshouldered his suspenders and pushed down his trousers, switching into the other clean pants.
When he looked up, he saw the girl glance away from the reflection in a large mirror at the back of the hall and he couldn't help but smile.
Clearing his throat to signal he was done, Charlie turned and took Jesse's dirty, wet pants, handing them to the girl and motioning for Jesse to follow him as he made his way up the stairs.
The top of the stairs curled into a second floor that more clung to the walls of the house, most of the middle gone to see down into the first level. Breaking off into a long hallway was a group of doors, leading to separated rooms, about five in all. Four opposite each other on the sides of the hall while another one stood in the back. Charlie was pointing out rooms as they walked down them.
On the left side of the wall, between the two doors, it broke off into another hallway, leading out towards the hillside. As they passed, Charlie gave him a quick tour.
"Your brother is in here." He pointed to the hall that broke off into the hill, separated by a gap in stairs. "Your the next door down. I'm across from you. And the Colonel is in that room." He pointed to the far door at the end of the hall as he palmed open the door to Jesse's new room.
The wallpaper was a collage of beautiful blue and gold marquees, diffused at the huge oak head of his bed that nearly touched the ceiling with its steepled headboard. His sheets were white and crisp and tucked nicely under the mattress. His pillow was fluffed and a blue quilt matching the walls had been turned to down, everything prepared.
Jesse turned back to Charlie, who was standing in the doorway, his eyes down the hall.
"How is he?"
"I don't know." He confessed.
Not liking that, Jesse shouldered his way past him, and went down the hall, breaking out into that off-joining hallway, opening a door to lead out into a little square of deck before another set of steps led up to the loft door. "Jesse."
Jesse palmed himself in, craning his head until he saw Frank lying on his right side in the middle of a pile of blankets, all kicked down so that only one sheet was pulled across him.
Frank was kicking and moaning, the girl having to grab him sometimes when he'd roll over on his stomach and groan.
"What are you doing in here?" She asked, looking up from Frank as Jesse came over to him, worried.
"What's wrong with him?" He bent over and shook his brother's shoulder, "Frank?" The woman tapped his arm, demanding he let him be.
"I just got him to sleep, you're disturbing him..."
"Why's he doing that?" Jesse stood back, watching his brother twist and moan.
"It's the Laudaman, he's having delusions."
"I thought you were out in the barn..." she looked to her brother, who tipped his head in apology. "Sorry Annie...couldn't keep him in the barn, n'case Rob came back in to put his horse away. I don't want to have to bury anyone in this weather."
Nodding dismissively, the girl moved over towards a black belly stove near the corner of the loft, tucking her hands into her dress apron to lift a pitcher of milk and vinegar from its top. She moved it down and put it on the floor when she sat in the bedside chair.
Frank was wheezing hoarsely and he coughed for long moments after each breath, the woman reaching out gently to put a hand on his shoulder until he quieted, then went about stirring the vinegar in the milk with a long wooden spoon.
"What's that?-" Jesse began.
Suddenly, Frank's eyes rolled beneath his eyelids and fluttered open. His face was a pasty white, save for the redness about his eyes, the large droplets of sweat augmenting his paleness as they rolled down his face.
"Jesse -" he just barely got out his name, before a coughing fit seized him by the chest.
The woman was up out of her chair and leaning over him, a couple strands of hair pulling free of her hairpins and hanging about her face in brown sausage curls before she pushed them back behind her ears. Frank whimpered in pain as she consoled him. "It's alright, just lie still. I've got you..." She stroked his hair and face.
"That's it," she soothed as he began to calm, "Easy. You're alright." She rubbed at his shoulders softly, as Jesse had done so many times before, to try and bring warmth to him.
"Charlie?" She turned over her shoulder without letting go of Frank. "Put a couple vinegar curds into that cloth on the table, would you?" Charlie did so, handing the lumpy cloth to the woman who immediately pressed it against Frank's arm wound. Pulling up the hem of his shirt out from his pants, she did the same to his side wounds. Frank's face twisted for a moment as she pushed them into the blood, then, his face turned soft as the warm liquid soothed his raw, torn skin.
As he slackened, the woman leaned off him and Jesse watched his eyes slide close. Working her way around the small, crowded space, she went back to the stove and held her hands out towards it, testing its heat, before she put a big bowl of water on top of it. Then, she came back over and pulled the covers up over Frank's shoulders, tucking them around his still rocking body, before sitting back and looking at Jesse.
"The doctor comes tomorrow morning, sunrise at the earliest depending on the train. Usually it's on time though." Charlie said, seeing the concern. "I'm going tomorrow if -"
"I'm coming with you." There was no question in his voice.
Charlie thought about it, but never said a word.
Rising, Annie went back to the simmering bowl and dipped her hand into it, before removing it from the stove and bringing it back near her as she sat down again. Reaching in, she took out one of the towels draped across the bottom of the bowl and wrung out some of the extra water, pulling the covers back down from Frank's torso.
"If you boys don't mind, he needs to sleep and you need to get yourself a new pair of clothes." She cocked a thin eyebrow towards Jesse.
"This's Jesse..." but Charlie's words were bitten off.
"So I gathered, and what about his name?" She pointed down to his brother.
"His name's Frank," Jesse commented and the woman turned away.
"I need you two out of here. Now go on." She began wiping down Frank's chest with the warm water, soothing him. Mopping up the sweat from his face and his chest, she re-dipped it before she let it set across his chest, warming him.
Jesse looked once to his brother, Charlie catching him by the shoulder as he started towards the door, taking him with him. "He'll be alright, my sister'll watch him."
Jesse watched until he couldn't see anymore, his neck craning to see her take another cloth from the bowl wrap it across Frank's throat, calming his coughing as best she could. Before the door was shut on his face.