Chapter Six
Jess turned his head toward the stagecoach, narrowing his eyes as he gave it his scrutiny. Broken and upside down, with one door barely clinging to its hinge, it was far from a place of refuge, but it was their only shelter. The thought wrapped its fingers tight around his brain as Jess lifted Slim's shoulders from the ground that moving him could do more harm than good, but there was no other choice, and Jess peeled back the grip on his mind and began to walk backward, letting Slim's lower half drag along the ground. Jess kept his eyes on the trail made by Slim's boot heels, as pinning his gaze to Slim's face only made his heart wrench further. It wasn't the sight of bruises and blood against its whitest background, but it was the expression pasted overtop. There was anger, there was fear, but there was no will.
The coach one step behind him, Jess stopped, lowering Slim's frame back to the ground, and then he entered the stage, giving the interior one simple glance that resulted in a shake of his head. There was a crack in the floor, which now was serving purpose as the ceiling, which wouldn't stop the drips if the clear sky turned back into a squall, but it wasn't going to serve Jess any purpose to worry if the current weather was going to hold. That sudden instance when a man's heart launches itself into his throat happened as Jess leaned over to pick Slim back up, receiving no response, but a quick brush across Slim's chest with his hand, and he could still feel the life inside. His sigh came with his hands going underneath Slim's body, and Jess let his mouth form a repeat as he lowered Slim's frame to a different, dryer surface.
Slim's coherency had shifted with the movement, his mumble less audible, as his eyes roved back and forth, not latching onto anything, but seeming to be in a desperate search for something to be there. Jess said his name, but as there was no response to Slim's expression, he kept his tongue stilled, switching his attention to the rest of Slim's body. Broken would have been an understatement. Several ribs felt misshapen on his left side, but it was the opposite side that turned Jess' throat dry. Something sharp had penetrated his flesh, and as Jess parted the fabric of Slim's torn shirt, revealing the rush of blood that had dried there, he envisioned the weapon as being studded with thorns. The puncture had gone deep, but it was the little lines around the hole that spoke of the added teeth. His fingers brought a small burst of blood to seep to the surface, but the geyser must have finished bursting sometime in the night. The cut on the back of his head, however, didn't share the same story. Its line wasn't straight, made by anything with a point, and it was still pumping color into his hair, changing Slim's sandy hue to one more violently red.
Removing the glove from his hand, he pressed his palm into Slim's cheek, the frown sinking deeply into Jess' jaw. He was even colder. Jess could only gauge Slim's internal temperature by feel, but no matter what the inside of his body could reveal, he only knew the freezing chills that went with it, made worse by the damp clothes still attached to Slim's skin. Shrugging out of his jacket, Jess laid it on top of Slim, but the coat was just as wet as Slim's body, and Slim seemed to visibly wither underneath it. Jess gripped his bottom lip with his teeth, his head shifting around to look through the broken door, and he spotted a valise halfway down the hill. The woman's, and young or old, Jess knew that they never packed light. Giving Slim a quick glance, Jess darted through the door, barely guarding his steps as he went upward, needing to make the final reach from the tips of his toes as he pulled the satchel from its landing place.
Surprisingly, the contents inside were dry. Two dresses, one petticoat, a corset and a Bible. It might not have been stuffed to the brim, but he could use them all. Back inside the coach, Jess laid the Bible beside Slim, hoping that he wouldn't have to thumb his way to a comforting Psalm too quickly and then tore the petticoat into strips. There was no need to bandage his side, but several pieces went to Slim's skull, the stain beginning as soon as the first one was in place. Pulling his heavy coat off of Slim's body, Jess hooked the collar onto the remaining door hinge, but even though the sun was hitting it with a full burst of light, there would be no warmth to dry it. There was no warmth anywhere. Needing to get his partner covered, Jess layered the dresses on top of Slim, the first with the skirt flowing over his legs, the second with the skirt lying in the opposite direction, with the hem resting at his neck.
"Stop," Slim protested, although his complaint wasn't the result of wearing the woman's frills, or that the two calico prints clashed together rather loudly, but was given in response to something that only he could see or feel.
"I can't, Pard," Jess said, running his palm down Slim's arm until he found Slim's fingers, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.
"Let me go," Slim barked, and Jess felt his own tingling chill run up and down his spine. The energy pounding through Slim's delirium was astounding, but it wouldn't sway Jess, not even if the strength moved to Slim's muscles for a fight, and Jess couldn't help but wonder if that was a step he would yet have to face.
"Easy, Slim," Jess soothed, his touch coming as tenderly as the tone of his voice as he laid two fingers against Slim's throat, and what was hammering underneath was a staccato rhythm at its wildest. "You gotta settle down. I ain't your enemy, but your best friend."
"Jess."
"Yeah." Jess' mouth flickered with a smile, hoping that they were at a turning point of positivity. "That's right. It's me."
"No," Slim said in a chilling monotone. "Jess is dead."
"Dad-gum," Jess murmured, his fist closing into a tight ball at his side, desperately wanting to swing it at someone, but the only one deserving was lying outside, dead.
"Dear God, please take me," Slim prayed, the anguish pouring from his lips pierced deeply into Jess' soul, severing a line all the way through his core. "I want away from the pain. I don't want to feel anymore hurt."
"I reckon you ain't just talking about your injuries," Jess said softly, his throat aching with unshed tears, "but something much deeper. Dad-gum, Pard, I'd take it all away from you if I could. And you gotta know I'm gonna try."
"It's…" Slim quaked, his voice broken and muffled by the chilling spasms that racked Slim's body, reducing the sound to be barely above the whisper of a breath, "…no…use."
"Oh, God, help me." Jess bowed his head, but any further part of his prayer would only get passed from heart to heart.
"J…Je…Jessshhhh." Whatever else was on Slim's tongue turned to nothingness as his body rolled with uncontrollable shivering, the stark image prompting Jess to quickly react.
"I gotta try to get a fire going, Slim," Jess said, even though he knew that his words would be touching his ears alone, as little penetrated through to Slim's mind. He kept his eyes pinned to Slim's face, the expression unchanging as he grew in height, still receiving nothing out of Slim's dull blue when he bent at the waist to touch his cheek, and then without an additional word, Jess exited through the door.
The overwhelming feeling of desperation weighed out at its heaviest on top of Jess' entire body as he left the stagecoach. There was a scream somewhere in the back of his throat that wanted to be emitted, but he kept it shut behind a closed door, letting a sigh float though his lips instead while his gaze ran around his surroundings. Everything was still wet from the night's rain. He had matches in his pocket, but how would he make a fire without fuel? There was the woman's Bible inside the coach with Slim, but he wasn't heathen enough to burn even a single page. The weight beginning to reach into his chest with a tightening hold, Jess ran his hand over the back of his neck, his eyes rising upward, and suddenly Jess remembered that he wasn't there alone.
"Of course," Jess said, giving his forehead a tap.
It was a harder climb up than how Jess had come down, but he used every rock and limb to hoist his frame one foot higher, and he was soon standing on the road next to his mount. Fishing around in the saddlebags, Jess found a clump of jerky Jonesy had wrapped in paper, and sticking one strip of beef between his teeth, he then shoved the wad of paper under his armpit. Still rooting in the pack, Jess' hand folded around a stub of a pencil, and seeing that it still had writing capabilities, he tore a piece of the paper free. His saddle as his desk, Jess briefly looked back down below him at the stagecoach and then with his brows pinched together, his hand scribbled down a short note.
Slim needs help. Over the cliff at the first corner below Harry's Peak. Bring doctor. Hurry. Jess.
He read it through once and then dropped it into the saddlebag, tying the pack to the saddle itself to indicate to whoever touched Traveler first that there was a message inside. Removing the canteen and bedroll from his horse's back, Jess looked at the blinking eyes that studied him and then took a step back. There was nothing else to do but let him go. Jess hated partings, but while there was a certain emotion stuck inside of his throat, he pushed it down in one swallow, because there was another friend that needed him even more.
"Go home," Jess commanded with a pat to Traveler's neck, adding his finger to a point toward the northwest. "We gotta help Slim and I can't leave him. So that leaves you. Now get."
He didn't want to do it, but his horse wasn't going to obey, for just like Jess, Traveler didn't want to leave his best friend behind. There was a stick jutting upward an arm's length down the cliff and Jess jerked it out of the dirt in one yank, and raising it high, he yelled, swinging the Y shape in the air over his horse's back as Jess jumped, and the fright took place. Traveler snorted on the backend of a whinny, his heels giving a short buck as he started his run, the trail high and perilous, but he was in the right direction of home.
"Stay safe, Son," Jess said softly as he watched his faithful mount disappear around the corner.
With air being drawn into his lungs as he swung his legs over the edge, Jess jumped the first length of the distance below, skidding his feet on a rock to prevent the rest of the journey downward to happen in a bouncing plunge. Mud clinging to his boots made a portion of the drop be done in a slide, but with one hand free to guide him, it didn't make his heart hammer any harder than it had throbbed while being beside his partner. The stagecoach now less than fifteen feet away, Jess reduced his pace, not wanting to startle Slim's already mangled nerves, and as he made his arrival, Jess merely put his face through the window to see him, and the air he held in place was slowly released. There was still a reason to keep the fight burning, but now Jess had to turn part of that battle into an actual flame.
Going to his knees, Jess' hands reached underneath the coach, which had been partly raised by a rock and the remaining portion of the rack that held luggage and mail in place. There was dry material there. Leaves, twigs, a few larger limbs, and a couple of handfuls of dried grass, still with their seedy heads attached, every single burnable object was pulled free. Putting every piece together in a small pile, Jess reached into his pocket and pulled out a match. He took a short breath, knowing that the task would be a difficult one to perform, as there wasn't a second going by that wasn't disturbed by a rush of howling wind.
Jess surrounded the match with his hand before flicking the tip with his thumb, and the flame flickered upward to lick at his palm, but before he could even feel its heat, the wind reduced it to a wisp of smoke. "Dad-gum."
Back to his pocket, his fingers probed for the sticks and felt only two left inside. He pulled one free, shifted his back to the wind and bent over, keeping his entire frame around the match and the jerky covering that would service as kindling. With a snap, the light flickered on, but before Jess could create a smile for success, as he moved the paper for ignition, the spark was gone. There was only one left. It was as precious as pure gold, but if it couldn't obtain its needed goal, it was as worthless as the dirt underneath him. Jess' hand wrapped around his final match and gave it a look that could have sent it alight by itself, but since he didn't carry that actual power, Jess needed another way.
Whisking his coat off of the coach's door, he slid his arms into the holes and then pulled it tight around his waist, but didn't reach for a single button. Jess stuck the wadded paper against his side, between his shirt and the inner lining of his coat, and holding his breath inside of his lungs, he lit the match. The flame hungrily reached for its fuel, and as it touched the edge of paper, it ignited, the burn being felt through to Jess' skin before he released it, blazing like a beacon through the cold air as he began the slow descent to the pile on the ground. He was an inch above victory when a gust stole the paper from his hand, lifting it up like a bird in flight, but the farther it flew, it crumbled into tiny ashes that completely disappeared into the air.
"No!" Jess exploded, the thunder from his throat loud enough to scare a real storm away, but even though his eyes darted above, it wasn't a cloud he was seeking. "I gotta have a fire! I thought I'd get a little help from you, Lord! I'm trying to save Slim's life, you know, but I can't do it alone. I ain't got nothing left! Do you hear me? Nothing! Now I've gotta get back to Slim and watch him die!"
Get back to Slim. He didn't know why his mind whispered a repeat to his own words, but they crashed into his skull with a force that felt far greater than a normal soundless phrase and his temper was immediately checked.
"Slim?" Jess leaned inside of the doorway before fully stepping inside, his body lowering when the second boot hit the interior.
"What?" Slim asked, but there was no real reasoning behind the question in his voice as Slim's eyes didn't seek Jess' face.
Sitting beside his partner, Jess' hand stretched across Slim's waist and lifted the edges of both dresses, checking on the puncture. It remained the same, puckered and discolored, but still closed. The head, Jess didn't want to look at, but the necessity was there, but just as Jess began to straighten the calico print back over Slim's front, his finger brushed the edge of his vest, and the left flap bent over. There was a slight bulge in the pocket, and as Jess' thumb and forefinger went inside, he held his breath, only allowing it to return through his lips as he pulled the contents free.
"I'll be dad-gummed."
There were four matches in Slim's vest pocket, but Slim was also carrying money. The coins were insignificant, but what shone like a diamond was a twenty-dollar bill, made of the driest, most tender paper he could ever touch. Jess felt the rush of hope run through his entire body as he turned his head, his eyes immediately landing on the pile of torn fabric, and one that Jess had yet to touch. The petticoat's edge was lined in lace, and the corset was a stiffer version. Both types of material would burn. He took the remaining pieces of petticoat and rolled them together, making a loosely shaped ball and set it at his feet.
It wasn't absent, but there inside of the coach he was more sheltered from the wind. Sticking the money in his left hand so that half of it reached outward, Jess took one match and gave it a quick flick against the side of stagecoach, and with a short sizzle, Jess had the beginning of fire in his hand. The small flame bent toward the corner of the bill, and the first signal that true contact had been made was by the pale green changing to black. He could smell the acridity curling toward his nostrils, and in a single blink, the twenty was burning. Moving quickly, Jess lowered the bill toward the bundle by his feet, and as he laid it down, the lacy edge absorbed the heat, and in less than ten seconds, the petticoat was on fire.
Picking the glowing petticoat up with corset-covered hands, Jess stepped out of the stagecoach and flexed his core backward as the wind whipped the flames toward his stomach. He felt the single bite of a burn near his naval, but even if it set his entire body aflame, he wasn't going to let go until he was over the pile of fuel. The target a step away, Jess bowed one knee and lowered the spreading flames to the leafy heap, and as the heat was released from his hands, he flattened his palms to the earth. Jess sighed as he received relief from the cool ground, but they wouldn't remain there longer than necessary, as he couldn't allow the fire to reduce to a smolder, he had to continue to feed it.
Jess turned a full circle, looking over land he had already studied, searching for anything that would serve the purpose of fuel, but everything he laid a hand on would have only put his fire out. Too stubborn to give in to defeat this early in the fray, Jess continued to search, but his eyes kept roving back toward the stagecoach. Jess could have pegged the obvious reason as concern for Slim, yet the attention just couldn't be diverted away. It suddenly hit him like a bushwhacker parted the bushes and knocked him down. The stagecoach. There was no question that the exterior was wet from the rain, but it couldn't have been saturated all the way through.
Running to the front, Jess put one hand on the driver's seat and gave a quick tug, and feeling it bend underneath his palm, he planted one foot against the side of the coach and added the other grip to the edge of the seat. His muscles rippled through his arms and down his back as he pulled, needing to tighten all the way through to his hips as he stabilized his frame and then on the fourth tug, the seat gave way, landing with a clunk as he tossed it to the ground. Piece by piece, Jess broke apart the entire section the driver and shotgun man called home and then he moved to the wheels. Two were already gone, one obliterated and the other out of reach, but the two remaining were ready to be turned to ashes. Jess' small pile of fuel was now a mound, and as the heat rose, the flames strengthened. A few minutes earlier he had been loathing the wind, but now that it was no longer threatening to dissolve it, Jess welcomed each gust that added extra wallops to fortify it. But that wasn't all Jess was grateful for.
"Thanks," Jess whispered his appreciation, and even though his eyes never left the dancing color in front of him, he knew it was received.
The flames licking higher, Jess turned away from the heat, feeling the sharp contrast of the cold air slap him in the face as he began gathering stones. Smooth around every edge and large enough to need both hands to carry, Jess set seven rocks at the base of the fire, hearing the short sizzle that sent a wisp of steam that became lost in the smoke at each delivery. The heat too inviting to leave, Jess stood as close to the roar as his tolerance endured, but once he knew the rocks were thoroughly absorbed, Jess no longer desired its warmth because someone else needed it more. His jacket was off of him in seconds, and using it as protection, Jess lifted the rocks away from the fire and took them inside the coach where he wrapped the stones in the folds of the dress and pressed them into Slim's side. The final layer was his coat, fully dried from the heat of the fire, and pulling it away from his body, Jess placed his jacket on top of Slim, tucking the soft collar against his neck.
"There you go, Pard," Jess said, touching a cheek that no longer looked like paste, but had a circle of pink in the center. "Maybe finally, we can both find some rest."
Jess sat at the rear of the coach and leaned his head against the wall, but even though exhaustion was at work inside of his body, there was too much resistance to make his eyelids droop beyond a normal blink. With his partner stuck in his own personal nightmare, Jess was alone without really being alone, and in the solitude was an open doorway that he didn't want to enter. Thoughts, deep, dark and fearful, all surrounding the fate of his best friend threatened to devour him. The need to turn off an enemy's sick taunt, Jess reached for the Bible, and not even thinking about where he might land, he opened to the center, the pages ruffling under his fingers, finding a guiding marker placed by a woman's delicate hand.
The stars had long replaced the sunlight, and the fire, still snapping and sparking in the darkness, spread an orange glow through the windows and doorway that wavered back and forth over the interior, giving him light enough to read. Not every word was understood, but peace was found, and while the night wore on, the Bible slipped out of his grasp as Jess' head bowed low. Prayer and sleep went hand in hand, as his soul couldn't be silenced even in slumber. While Jess' spirit was still connected to the greatest needs of his partner, murmuring a constant plea, it was too soon for the concluding amen, for it was close to the first crack of dawn when Jess' snore, and heart, was broken in half by a sudden shriek.
"Help me!"