Chapter Five
Slim gestured to the chair Jess had left, and the Texan sank into it. He leaned forward, his forearms on his knees, hands clasped, and stared at his boots. Slim and Jonesy resumed their seats. Andy, seated nearest Jess, watched him closely, studying every move, still completely puzzled.
A troubled look came over Slim's face as he kept his eyes on his friend. Where to begin? They had to get to the bottom of this. He had somewhat of an idea of how they might broach the subject, so he plunged ahead. "Jess, one of the places I fought was Virginia. In June of '64." His voice gentled. "Where were you then?"
Jess's focus remained on his boots as he heard the words he had long dreaded.
"Me too," he rasped. "Virginia."
"You told me the Seventh Michigan captured your patrol," Slim said.
At that thought, a spark of hope ignited for Jess. Yes! When Halleck came to town and Jess had mentioned the Seventh Michigan, Slim had not reacted. No comment like 'That was my company.' So it obviously wasn't! Utterly relieved, Jess raised his eyes to his friend. "Yeah, it was the Seventh Michigan that took us."
"Well, I wasn't with the Seventh Michigan… But my company kinda supported their efforts a couple of times in that Virginia campaign. You mighta thought your patrol was taken by them, if that was who your unit initially attacked. But the ones who actually got to you and captured you… they coulda been with my company."
Jess's stomach knotted again. His eyes dipped back to the floor. So he and Slim had fought in the same battle. Damn. That meant…
"Jess," Slim continued softly. "Did you ride in a Confederate shock troop?"
Jess didn't move. His voice was barely audible. "Yeah."
Slim drew a deep breath, recalling the critically wounded young Reb shock rider that had lain in the mud at his feet. It had been a few years since he'd even thought about that kid. Once he found out the boy had lived, not suffered a horrible, lingering death because of Slim's actions, he'd let curiosity about that young soldier go, with a great deal of relief. He'd never gotten a good look at the boy's face, covered as it was with muck and smeared blood. But the hair was a mass of dark curls. And the eyes, which for just a moment had glanced up at the sky before the kid passed out, were a brilliant shade of blue. He wondered… was it possible…?
"I know you were hurt bad. But you've never described your wounds to me."
Jess said nothing. He still leaned forward, hands clasped together, his chest heaving.
Slim watched him carefully. "Were you shot through the left leg? And caught a bullet in the right side of your chest?"
Jess squeezed his eyes closed. There it was. Slim knew his injuries. Only one way that would be possible. That proved that the officer he remembered, whom he'd glimpsed but never got a full look at, the one who'd shot him, was Slim. Almost imperceptibly, the dark head nodded.
Slim sat still, contemplating the extraordinary events that had caused his path to cross with Jess's multiple times. "I put a tourniquet on the leg of a wounded young Confederate. The boy had a bad chest wound too, real bad. I ordered a couple of privates to take him to our field hospital, and I made sure the doc performed surgery on him."
Jess was motionless as a granite statue.
Slim stared intently at the bowed head. "My lord, Jess," he breathed incredulously. "That young Reb was you."
Andy's eyes grew huge. "You fought each other in the war!" he exclaimed. Jess cringed.
Before the Yankees operated on him, he had overhead them saying a second lieutenant had given the order for him to be taken to the field hospital. He hadn't known whether it was the same officer that had shot him. Not until this moment.
Jess drew a deeper steadying breath so he could make his voice sound louder and show the sincerity he felt. "You saved my life, Slim. I'm grateful for that. More than I can say. But…" Still without looking at Slim, he simply let his voice fade without completing the thought.
Slim slumped back in his chair. "You have no idea how that image haunted me. The image of that Confederate soldier. So young, lying there in the mud, blood gushing from multiple wounds. And then in that field hospital. Surgery under those awful conditions. And then…" Slim drew a harsh breath and ran his hand through his hair. "…the interrogations… the prison…" He winced severely. "Dang it, Jess, I'm so sorry. Sorry for what you had to go through."
Jess still hadn't raised his head. "It was war," he said in a low, gravelly voice. "Ya did what ya had to do."
Jonesy looked back and forth between the two men. His heart hurt at the idea that what Jess had always feared hearing─that Slim was the one who'd shot him─was being confirmed. He felt fairly sure this knowledge wouldn't completely end the friendship between the two young ranchers. At least, he hoped not. Prayed not. But would it destroy their closeness? Would the fact that they had looked upon each other as enemies, that one had purposefully shot and nearly killed the other, destroy the brotherhood the two of them felt?
"Slim, Jess understands," Jonesy said. "He truly does. But it's still a hard thing for him to handle. For you too. You two boys have to give yourselves time to accept it. Like Jess said, it was war. You couldn't help it that you had to shoot him."
At those words, Jess grimaced and flinched so hard, Slim half expected him to fall off the chair. And a cold shudder ran through Andy.
"What?!" the younger Sherman yelled. "Slim, you're the one who shot Jess?! No!" The boy seemed to realize that what had just been revealed would sever the connection between the two men. Maybe Jess would even ride out again. "Oh no," Andy moaned.
Slim wore a look of severe dismay. "But, Jess…," he began.
"Slim, Jess has been fearful of this all along," Jonesy interrupted. "Ever since he come here." The older man sensed the tension building in the room like a wall being erected between the two young ranchers. Spurred by his desire to help, he wanted to do something to keep the division from developing beyond a point of no return, to say something that might increase their understanding of each other. "That's why he's always avoided talk of battles. You see, he told me he got a partial look at the officer that shot him. Tall, blond, blue-eyed. Infantry. Second lieutenant." The older man's brow furrowed fretfully as he again looked from one man to the other. His voice took on an almost pleading tone. "But you boys can't let this come between you."
"Right!" Andy jumped up. "You just can't! You just need to remember that even though you shot him, Slim, you're also the one who saved him!"
The boy turned to Jess, who still sat as he had been, staring at the floor. "You can get past it, can't ya, Jess?" Desperation rose in Andy's voice. "I mean, I know Slim caused all that pain for ya, but in the end, he got ya took care of. And I know… I know you must'a suffered somethin' awful in that hospital… and the prison. But like you said… it… it was war. And… And…"
Andy sputtered to a halt. Out of steam, he was trembling, afraid that this was a hurdle Slim and Jess couldn't overcome. They had butted heads plenty over the past year, and they always managed to find some way to get past their disagreements. But Andy knew this was different. He sank back down on his chair, frozen with fear, eyeing Jess, waiting.
A silence fell over the room, as each of them considered the effect this would have on them all.
Andy gazed at Jess, worrying terribly over the fact that his hero still hadn't looked up. Some Christmas this is turning out to be. Probably our last one with Jess. Bet as soon as the snow stops, he's gonna ride out. And we'll never see him again. Tears formed in the boy's eyes.
Jonesy was shaking his head sadly. Guess I shoulda tried to steer the conversation away from the war, instead of encouraging Jess to open up about it.
Jess was mentally kicking himself again for letting his guard down. I knew better. Knew I shouldn't talk about the war. Never. Everything's ruined now. Just like I knew it would be.
Slim took a deep breath and slowly let it out. He looked around at each of the others. He kept his voice even. "Jess, I want to tell ya something about my unit."
"No, Slim. I don't need to hear it," Jess muttered. "I don't wanna hear it. No more talk 'bout the war. Just stop."
Elbows still braced on his knees, Jess buried his face in his hands. Every time he'd look at Slim now, he wouldn't see a pard; he would see that second lieutenant holding that rifle, aiming it at him and pulling the trigger. There was only one thing he could do now. He'd have to leave. Soon as the snow quit.
"You have to hear this, Jess," Slim insisted. "Please."
