All that night I thought about him and worried about him, and prayed about him. Slim had to be alright, Slim was going to be alright, and I wasn't going to take any other answer.
He came around the next day, in the afternoon, and the day after that we took him home. He was smiling as I helped him walk down the halls of the doc's house and out to the wagon and to a waiting Daisy.
He had insisted upon walking, his eyes still glossy from the strong drugs the doc had given him, and his speech was slow and hard to collect, but he was still as obstinate as ever, and to tell you the truth I was kinda happy he was being his stubborn self. It reassured me.
Out to the wagon we walked slow and steady with Mort there to help us get him in, and slowly we rolled home with people stopping to wave and offer us a word or two. Just about everyone knew, by then, the events that had taken place. Whether they got the right story or not, just about all of them came to see us off in one way or another. I felt like we were going on a trip, far away never to come back, and I had to shake my head a very faint smile playing on my face.
You never know how well you're liked until you're almost dead, then you'd be surprised at the number of people showing up on your doorstep.
Mr. Sherman, a great man. Must have been a great man. I didn't know him, not ever, but I knew his son. His son, one of the greatest people to ever bulldoze their way into my life and I don't think anyone but Slim could have done it. I looked at him then, all pale and worn out, acting like the bumps and turns of the wagon didn't bother him, and I flicked a smile across my face. Slim sure was the greatest thing ever to happen to a no good drifter like me.
Daisy rolled the wagon to a stop and her and Mike hurried on in to get the house ready. But me, I stayed out to help Slim from the back of the wagon and to make sure he made it inside alright. Slim had struggled his way up and was moving rather slow for the back of the wagon. I held out my hand to sorta steady him, but he waved it away.
"I can manage."
My hand balled and I smiled despite myself.
"Sure you can Slim," I nodded and he stopped to look at me. "And when you bite off more than you can chew, I'll be right there to catch you."
He watched me a moment, a very faint smile dashing my lips. His arm was in a sling, to keep his side steady, and I was standing on his left, but I caught a slight movement from his right, and a softer smile had lit his eyes.
"Sure Jess…"
There was no mistaking the movement that time, and I smoothly slid to his right, taking his hand and forearm helping him with that last little jolt to the ground. He bent slightly, boots hitting the dirt and gave a small grunt grabbing his side. My face got mixed with worry, and my grip around his arm tightened, wanting to scoop him up and carry him to bed.
His pain filled face lifted, and he looked at me with a very true Slim Sherman smile. I returned it, but gravy I could feel the nervousness tugging at my mouth.
"Thanks Jess," He said softly and I almost missed it as I had turned us to go in. "Thanks for everything."
Playfully I ducked his hat and I could feel my ears burning from the sincerity of his voice.
"Don't mention it. It's what pards are for."
He shook with a nod and suddenly leaned a great deal of his weight on me. Into the house we slid and I helped him to his room, but he would never understand the great respect and admiration I had for him. This. This was only a touch of what I would do for him, and as he struggled to get better, I strived to do everything possible for the man that had offered me so much. Life, hope, and his family. Making me something more than the two bit drifter that I had been.