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Small Thanks
from Season One
Jantallian
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Stage Stop 1
"Thank you!"
"Huh?"
Jess Harper looked up in surprise.
It was late into the evening of his first night inside a homely building for a long while. The ranch house of the Sherman Relay Station was surrounding him with the kind of comfort he had become accustomed to doing without. The big living room was warm and tranquil. The fire crackled quietly as it began to die down. The air was fragrant with the smell of woodsmoke and the lingering savour of a good, substantial meal. Andy and Jonesy had long since retired to their beds.
It was with no little bemusement that Jess found himself ensconced in a rocking chair, a cigarette in his hand and a mug of coffee close by. His boots were off and his stockinged feet stretched out to the warmth of the embers. And on the other side of the hearth were another pair of stockinged feet, more than a little larger than his own, belonging to Slim Sherman.
It was Slim who had uttered the words of gratitude.
"Thank you," Slim repeated.
"What for?" Jess raised an eyebrow quizzically. He couldn't imagine that he had done anything particularly praiseworthy when he had only acted instinctively to help Slim bring down Bud Carlin and his gang.
And he still couldn't work out exactly why, given their far from cordial first impressions of each other, he had actually agreed to ride back to the relay station and take that chance Slim offered him. He'd taken plenty of chances in a footloose and adventurous life so far, but they did not usually involve a steady job and the kind of comfort he was currently enjoying.
"Thank you for making sure Andy didn't ride with you when you came after me," Slim explained. "He's been hankering after adventure something fierce lately, but he's no notion what chasing an outlaw like Carlin could involve."
"An' you do," Jess observed wryly, "but y' still went. On y' own."
Slim shrugged. "Someone had to bring justice home to him."
Jess nodded in agreement. "Yeah." He thought a little, then added, "Andy has that sense o' justice too. And of loyalty – the kind friends need ..."
He was remembering another conversation earlier in the evening about the same subject ...
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Stage Stop 2
"Can I say thank you, Jess?"
Andy Sherman dumped the full water bucket in Traveller's stall and paused, one hand on the bay's shoulder and his eyes rivetted on the Texan, who was brushing his horse down.
"I should thank you," Jess grinned. "You're the one luggin' the heavy buckets."
They were settling the horses while Slim attended to the outside chores.
Andy shook his head. "That's what friends do. They help each other."
Jess finished the last stroke of the brush across Traveller's gleaming hide and looked down at the boy.
"We're friends?" There was a touch of hesitancy in his statement. He truly hoped so, for he had felt an instant rapport with and affection for Andy the moment they met. But, despite the ecstatic welcome when he and Slim had ridden in, Andy had been pretty mad with Jess when he had left the relay station after ostensibly refusing to help Slim bring Bud Carlin to justice.
"Yeah!" Andy looked down as he heaved a big gulp in his throat. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. You didn't let Slim down. Or me." He raised his head, looking straight into Jess's eyes. "You rode off like that so I wouldn't try to come with you, didn't you?"
"Yeah," Jess responded honestly. "I figured a gunfight wasn't the best place for y' t' be – not right now – maybe not ever. But, when y' grown, that's your choice to make."
"Thanks!" Andy said again. His eyes gleamed with emotion at Jess's acknowledgement of his right to choose his own path. "But I meant what I said, too. Friends are mighty hard to come by. I hoped you and Slim ..." He trailed off, remembering the passionate clash of ideas that had drawn them so recently into a fight.
Jess's hand touched Andy's shoulder, warm and firm as his voice.
"Just give us time t' work on it, Andy ..."
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Glory Road 1
The rattle of an arriving stage was becoming a familiar part of Jess Harper's day. He had the new team all prepared and was ready at the barn door when the coach pulled to a halt in a cloud of dust and loose bits of straw.
Slim, washed up and sporting a clean shirt, stepped up to open the door and to offer assistance to such passengers as might need it to alight. And, of course, to any particularly pretty young ladies who happened to be travelling that day.
Jess grinned to himself. He'd already got used to the routine but, just at the moment, preferred the less public duties involved in servicing the stage. Not that he was averse to pretty young women – quite the contrary. He was simply biding his time before trying to compete with Slim. Right now, he wanted to be so much a part of the work and routine of the relay station that no-one remarked on what he did or didn't do.
"Thank y'!"
Jess nearly jumped out of his skin to find himself grabbed and given a hearty handshake by the driver.
"Ain't had a chance till now," the man continued, "but just gotta say thank y'. Y' sure stopped a helluva'n accident the other day!"
"I did?"
"Yeah. Y' stopped that madman runnin' us off the road." The driver looked frankly astonished that Jess did not appear to appreciate the significance of what he had done. "Ain't seen anyone stop a team like that f' a long time. A pleasure t' watch!" He grinned broadly and added, "Not t' mention that we weren't all rollin' in the dust t'gether and spittin' out bits o' broken coach."
"I guess that was a good thing," Jess agreed with a grin.
"Sure was!" The driver slapped him on the back. "Me'n the crew just wanted t' make sure y' know how grateful we are."
Jess's eyes dropped and his head dipped a little, as it always did when he was feeling strong emotion. In this case, it was no little embarrassment at being acknowledged for doing what was so urgently needed. When he looked up again, the man had disappeared into the house for a cup of coffee.
Jess made speed to get the team changed. He could do with a coffee himself.
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Glory Road 2
The batwing doors of the saloon swung open, wafting in a momentary breath of fresh air and a couple of young men in need of refreshment. The bartender looked up and his eyes narrowed. Before he could open his mouth, the taller of the two greeted him cheerfully.
"Evening, Freddie. Two beers, please. It's been mighty thirsty work today."
Freddie pulled two pints without comment and dumped them on the bar in front of the pair.
"How's business?" Slim Sherman inquired as he handed over the requisite payment.
"Business? Oh, business is fine!" Freddie responded, as he passed back Slim's change. "The old place ain't so very fine now, though!" He ran a jaundiced eye over the bullet holes which added to the decoration of several walls.
Slim followed his gaze round the room. "You seem to be short of a few chairs," he remarked.
"You can thank your friend for that!" Freddie replied shortly.
The friend kept his dark head well down over his beer, in which he seemed totally engrossed.
Slim shook his own head reprovingly, but it was not to rebuke the said friend. "Come on, now, Freddie. It wasn't the first time anyone loosed off a gun in here. Nor the first fight you've ever had, come to that."
"First fight over hymn-singin' I ever saw!" Freddie retorted morosely. "You'd think religious folks'd be more peace-keepin'."
"They'd be a lot more peaceful dead," Slim pointed out gently. "It's thanks to Jess that no-one was injured or killed."
"That's true enough," Freddie admitted grudgingly. "I guess all the townsfolk need to thank him for that."
Slim nodded approvingly. Jess went on concentrating modestly on his beer.
"But he sure made a mess doin' it!" Freddie pointed out, before muttering reassuringly to himself. "Still, it was only once ..."
Slim was silent.
Jess was even silenter.
'Only once' was maybe a little optimistic on Freddie's part ...
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Fugitive Road
Jess stood in the middle of the yard. Stood motionless. Stood watching as the stage bearing Sergeant Jordan back to his regiment climbed slowly round the bends mounting the hill. Stood still even when it reached the ridge and disappeared out of sight.
From the porch, two sighs left Andy and Jonesy.
Between them Slim mirrored Jess's unmoving stance. He was turning over in his mind the events which had led up to this departure and coming to some conclusions which called for certain action. He turned to Andy and put a hand of his shoulder, a restrained gesture he might have used with another adult, though his heart was very full.
"Thank you, Andy. Thank you for calling me out on helping Jess."
Andy's face turned to him with a big grin. "Thank you for going after him, Slim! I always knew you were gonna be friends!"
"Going to," Slim corrected automatically, though his conscious thought was the irony that Andy was unaware of the tensions friendship could bring and the tests which could strengthen or break it. To his brother, he simply acknowledged, "I needed you to remind me how important friendship is and how friends act."
Then he grinned and turned to slap his oldest friend on the back. "With a little conniving help from a musical moraliser, of course!"
"Huh!" Jonesy snorted. "You got y' own morals an' they ain't bad ones. All along y've always wanted Andy to be able t' judge what was right and what was lawful. He's lucky he's got y' to show him how hard it can be to choose."
"Thank you," Slim told him sincerely. "And thank you for sticking your neck out for Jess too."
"Lucky I still gotta head on my neck!" Jonesy retorted, but he was smiling all the same. "Y' sure did y' best t' bite it off! And talkin' about necks, I still ain't worked out who's got the stiffest – you or Jess!"
With that, he stomped off back to his kitchen, calling over his shoulder as he did so: "Dishes, Andy!" His mind was already on his next task and, besides, he was well aware that, although they might just have eaten, a certain Texan would be in need of fresh coffee before too long.
"Drying dishes is worse than soaping harness!" Andy muttered, but he knew that chores kept the place running smoothly and headed off to help Jonesy without more protest.
Alone on the porch, Slim continued to watch the lean figure still standing gazing up at the hill. He could not decide what Jess's thoughts might be. He might be assessing how the weather would change; or wondering about the length of the journey Jordan had to make; or admiring Mose's skilful handling of the team on the steep, bending slope; or thinking about how nearly Gil had got away with his crimes; or regretting the betrayal of his kinship; or mourning his sister. Or he might be longing for the freedom of the open road and being his own boss again. There was only one way to find out what was true. Slim left the porch and walked quietly over to join Jess, trying to decide what he should say to him.
Before he could open his mouth or utter a word, Jess turned with that lightning swiftness which characterised his speed with a gun.
"Thank you!" he said.
Slim's eyebrows shot up and the words "What for?" were half way to his lips before he caught them back and remarked instead, "You already thanked me for helping you both on the trail."
Jess shook his head vehemently. "That's not what I wanted t' say. It's thanks for coming after us at all. I know it cost you."
"It cost me a lot of nagging and hassling from Andy and Jonesy about principles," Slim admitted honestly.
Again Jess shook his head. "It cost you a deal of strength t' hold on to those principles of yours and still t' stick with me when things went wrong. Ain't sayin' I'd act different next time, I ain't made that way, but it turned out you were right in the end. That's why I want t' say thanks for ridin' alongside me."
"Well, I guess if I hadn't caught those horses, you'd have been walking and I know how much you enjoy that!" Slim joked to lighten the mood a little. "I wouldn't leave you afoot."
Jess chuckled too. "Yeah, a man can ride double with a friend, but it's always better t' have y' own horse ..."
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The Lawbreakers
The Sheriff of Laramie folded the signed and witnessed affidavit identifying the members of Chocktaw Johnson's gang, placed it in the envelope Slim had provided and handed it ceremonially to Judge Barnaby Cade.
"Here you are. Now let's see your dust on the trail – pronto!"
"Ain't gonna raise much dust on m' feet," the Judge objected. "You saying y'r all too mean t' lend an old man the price of a stage fare?"
"Lend?" Slim inquired sarcastically. "That's a loan we'd be lucky to see paid back!"
"Get going, you ungrateful old coot!" the Sheriff ordered. "Just be glad Jess signed that affidavit for you. Don't push your luck!"
The Judge shrugged philosophically and rose reluctantly to his feet. "Since y' pushing me out o' the door ..."
He ambled slowly towards it. Four pairs of eyes followed his leisurely progress. Only four. Jess himself had disappeared into the kitchen as soon as he had finished signing the affidavit, presumably in search of coffee to fortify him after the Judge's shenanigans. Jonesy had followed him almost at once.
The Judge stopped, his hand on the door-latch. "Pity," he murmured reflectively, as if to himself. "Pity such a talented young man's got such danged upright friends keepin' him on the straight and narrow."
"You wouldn't recognise the straight and narrow if it was the only way out of jail!" Reeves told him, speaking for the first time.
"Make sure you don't find your way back into it," the Sheriff added, "at least not into my jail. Someone else can have the trouble next time."
"Trouble?" The Judge's expression of studied innocence would have done justice to the statue of a saint.
"Yeah. More trouble than a barrel load of monkeys! Now git!"
"I'm gitting."
The door opened and closed.
Then it opened again almost immediately as everyone crowded out to make sure they were finally rid of their unwanted and tricky guest. Jonesy came out of the kitchen door and joined them on the porch. They were too far away to hear any more final words from the old reprobate, but they could certainly witness his departure.
The Judge stood in the middle of the road. He turned and looked down the road to Laramie. He shook his head sadly. He turned and looked up the road that climbed the hill going east. He shook his head even more sadly. Then his gaze shifted abruptly back to the barn.
A horse ambled out through the open doors. It was saddled ready. A bedroll and obviously well-filled saddlebags had been secured.
Jess led the horse over and silently handed the reins to the old man.
The Judge's eyebrows drew together and his face twisted into the familiar comic grimace of disbelief. But he took the reins, checked the cinch – earning a frown from Jess – and mounted up. Then he looked down at the young man.
"Sure y' don't wanna keep riding along?" he asked softly.
Jess shook his head decisively.
"Pity. Could use a smart young man like you. Good with a gun too. You and me, we could achieve great things."
Again Jess shook his head. "The time for that's passed."
The Judge nodded, a humorous gleam in his eye. He looked over to the porch and observed, "And it looks like the goodbye committee's all assembled."
"So long," Jess affirmed with that little half smile of his.
"Yeah, I'll leave you to y' friends," the Judge told him, "since you and me only got together on account of you wanting t' help one o' them. Just hope he thanks you properly for it. Or at least replaces the bottle o' whisky we shared."
Jess's smile became a grin. "Don't drink all that bounty money, pop!"
"No, not all ... never know when y' might need to pay off a debt."
For once the Judge hesitated. Then he observed even more softly, "Like a horse."
Jess shrugged. "No debt. A man can't leave a friend afoot."
"An old man don't have so very many friends he can count on for that ..."
The Judge turned his horse and set out to the east and Jess watched him go. An old man. Wiley. Unscrupulous. Self-serving. Highly intelligent. Dangerous to his enemies. An unchancy friend.
On the breeze Judge Barnaby Cade's parting words drifted, faint and tenuous as the smoke from the chimney: "Thank ye ... thank ye kindly ..."
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Acknowledgements:
Big thanks! The great creative writing of the 'Laramie' series is respectfully acknowledged. My stories are purely for pleasure and are inspired by the talents of the original authors, producers and actors.
Big thanks also to all the writers and betas for their creative hard work and especially to all readers who love 'Laramie' and encourage us to go on sharing imaginatively.
Big apologies to everyone who is waiting for longer stories and sequels. Time is in short supply for me at the present, so I'm keeping my hand in with smaller pieces. This one may get updated – after all there are four whole seasons to be thankful for!
