All You Wanted

A Jessie and Woody story

Chapter 5/6

Sheriff Dillin bumped into Mrs. Barlow in town. Woody had not been at the cabin when he returned home. The disappearance frightened him so much, even more so when Bullseye was alone in the stable. This wasn't normal so he began the search for him with an insistent young horse beside him. The colt's dog-like senses were the best thing to use now to find the boy, but every second that passed without him was like eternity for Dillin. He was too worried for words to describe and was starting to feel over-powered by the fear of the worst happening. Bullseye went beside him and whined like a puppy. Dillin could only rub his mane gently for his comfort. He understood how close the young horse was to Woody and knew he wasn't the only one suffering.

When he was with Mrs. Barlow, he rejoiced a little bit, "Mrs. B! Do you know where Woody is?"

She responded with a panicked look in her eye by the Sheriff's question, "I thought he went back to your cabin when class finished today."

Dillin's face fell. "No he didn't. He's gone missing."

"Missing?" Mrs. Barlow couldn't think of why Woody would be gone. After the strange goings-on that happened today, she would have thought going home would be the first priority for him. Jessie's breakdown caused Woody to distraught and now he was really acting out of the ordinary. Never in a million years would she think Woody wouldn't get home on time. She concluded that something must have happened.

She looked over at the extremely upset cowboy in front of her. She knew Woody wasn't Dillins' biological son but he might as well be. That Sheriff loved the boy more than life itself and she couldn't help but beam fondly at his frenzying behaviour. Knowing nothing better, she was going to help him find Woody by hook or crook.

"Calm down, Dillin," she said calmly. He gave his attention back to her and Bullseye followed. "Now, think. Use those brains of yours and think where he could possibly be."

Dillin wished his head were clearer, that way he could probably sum up an answer. However the clouds of confusion and angst continued to fog him over. He never realised how much emotional instability would hit him if anything happened to Woody.

"I don't know, Mrs. B," he said beaten. "I honestly don't know."

"Put yourself in his boots," she said. "What possible reason could Woody have to not go home?"

"It's never happened before. He arrives on time like I said he should and works hard to keep me well along with himself and Bullseye. One special trait I noticed in Woody is his loyalty," Dillin smiled weakly. "I worry about him. I reckon he'll do just about anything for anyone he cares about, it'll probably get him in trouble one day."

Mrs. Barlow was interested by what he was saying. Of course it didn't make sense that Woody would let Dillin down, so she continued to wonder why this would happen. It was true that this was a tangled pickle. Then her thoughts drifted back like a cool summer breeze to what Bo said to her before. According to the young fair-haired girl Woody was bothered by Jessie's breakdown in the woods, she saw that for herself. A thought occurred.

"Dillin?"

The old Sheriff raised his dropped head to face her, "Yes?" he said weakly.

"Does Woody ever mention a girl called Jessie at all when you talk to him?"

"No," he answered blankly wondering how that could possibly be relevant. "Why?"

"Well. Jessie is a young redhead who was bullying Woody during school -"

"What?" Dillin interrupted with narrowed and angered eyes. "Who's bullying Woody?"

"It's something I found out today. But what's odd is that Woody and my daughter encountered her in the woods and she started to cry, the poor dear. Bo said that Woody seemed really concerned about it."

"Oh? He never mentioned anything about this Jessie to me."

"It's not surprising. Many children who get picked on at school tend not to say anything."

"But he doesn't even act like something's bothering him whenever he's at home."

"I think he might have gone back."

"What do you mean?"

"Woody probably went back to the woods to find Jessie. That's my best hunch."

Dillin wondered about this for a minute. Thoughtfully rubbing his chin with his hand, his intellectual awareness began putting pieces together. If Woody was concerned about this girl then he probably did go to check on her. He bulged his eyes suddenly.

"But if he did go back and he hasn't come home yet, then isn't it possible that bully might have done something to him?"

Mrs. Barlow didn't think of that and was in a state of consternation. This might have ended up like when she found him in the river, "Oh no. Come on, I'll show you the way!" Immediately sprinting towards the school, Dillin and Bullseye followed.

...

It was dark. A rich and breathless scent of sweat and booze smothered the air with a wretched grasp. This was one smell Jessie couldn't stop her nose from wrinkling from despite how used to it she was. She was frightened but silent; bound tightly in rope and blindfolded. After her father and his men dragged her and Woody to the room, that was supposedly her bedroom, she was forced to watch Woody being bound by the men. They carefully and skillfully maneuvered the thick rope around his tussling body to a chair, snickering all the while. Even now she felt the bonds ridicule her by their precise and fixed state. All she could think about was Woody and how he was feeling when they decided to tie her back to back with him. She kept him remained in her tired mind; it was the only thing keeping her from breaking down. Jessie had a nightmare of this happening once, not too long after her mother died. Now it had come true, her trapped state continued to kill any means of escaping.

- Why did it have to involve Woody in this? What did he ever do wrong? – she asked herself, the same question that picked at her conscience ever since that moment in the woods.

Jessie felt Woody struggle behind her. She knew he wouldn't give up so easily which was why he survived her tormenting for so long. Again he picked himself up and carried on. A truly admirable persistence she wished she had now. However the taut rope limited his struggling to squirming. The poor boy just couldn't think of a way out of this and felt shame because of it. He resentfully knew he let Jessie down; little did he know she was thinking vice versa.

Jessie accepted this a little while ago, but now Woody accepted it too, that these are likely to be their final moments alive. Any situation like this here in the West led to dreadful endings from the stories they heard. Woody ceased his struggling and relaxed into his seat. Jessie looked to her side the best she could and her heart fell when she heard the defeated deep sigh he let escape his lips. The silence closed in on her, she wasn't expecting to hear him give up and wasn't expecting her emotions to be so cataclysmic in response to it.

A long and dragging moment of quiet passed. Memories and feelings ran through their heads, one not saying anything to the other. Jessie wanted to talk to him, desperately. But whenever she tried, her voice just hid somewhere in her throat and nothing came out. She wondered what on earth she could say to him at a time like this, especially when they weren't even friends. Sighing herself, she lowered her head and listened to the comforting sounds of his breathing. The silence then broke.

"I've been thinking about what you said."

If the blindfold were absent, Jessie's eyes would have widened. Hearing Woody's voice speak to her, and so softly too, was so pleasant for her to hear. She gave herself some time, wondering what he meant, but then realised he could only mean what she said to him in the woods. Jessie really wanted to know what he had to say. She replied with a tone just as soft and friendly as his had been.

"Oh?"

"I just - I just wanted to know. Did you mean it?"

Jessie lowered her head. Oh how she did mean it. She meant it with all of her heart and soul. Not knowing how to express this to him, she replied with the only thing in her head as a faint whisper, "Yes."

Woody didn't say anything else. He was quite relieved and satisfied with her answer. A brave thing it is to admit when you're wrong, and here his bully, who ended up not being a bully in the end, was apologising to him in the dark. The darkness turned out to be a good thing; it got rid of the mask of strength Jessie was wearing, revealing that all she wanted was somebody who would listen. The clock's cogs had finally fit into place and Woody wanted to do his best with his last moments.

"Does your father hurt you?" he asked quietly.

Jessie looked to her side again, so wanting to meet his eyes. Frankly she was surprised to hear the question and didn't even think before asking, "How did you know?"

"I didn't," Woody said. "I – I actually guessed."

Jessie felt like she was out in the open. Feeling the pains of the past come back to her she breathed heavily to calm down. "He does it all the time Woody." When Woody heard the trembling feminine voice, he turned his head and welcomed the sounds of her voice to smoothly enter his ears. "He never used to though. When my ma died he changed. He hits me." Woody froze. "And sometimes I'm sent up here while I'm cold and hungry with only Scruffy to sleep with."

She stopped talking to keep herself together and he asked gently, "Who's Scruffy?"

Jessie stopped realising she made a mistake. Scruffy was the name she'd given the rag she slept with and never said anything to anyone about that. Suddenly a wave of humiliation hit her and she held her breath.

"It's – it's nothing."

"It's alright Jessica, you can tell me," Woody insisted. He was still using that comforting mellow tone she loved to hear. Jessie had to try - she wanted to try.

"It's my rag I use for a cover at night," she explained briefly with large unsubtle hints of nerves in her voice.

"I like the name," Woody smiled. His easy acceptance astonished Jessie and her mouth dropped slowly. Seeing as only her toe was in the water, she decided she wanted to go in deeper.

"It was the name of the puppy I once had," she tested.

"I have a colt at home called Bullseye," he said in response to her confession. He let out a light giggle, "The Sheriff still wonders why I called him that."

When he laughed quietly Jessie smiled and felt the fear slowly evaporate. She was starting to forget where they were, even when she still couldn't see anything. Jessie relaxed greatly when the memory of watching him and Bullseye play in the garden, it caused her to tilt her head back and daydream. She wasn't aware that she had rested her head on Woody's back. Woody however pondered over the brief sight of the rag before he was blindfolded. It was mangy and ripped, probably didn't smell so good either. Woody did not catch sight of any pillows or mattresses either which meant that Jessie slept on the hard chilly floor every night. All the while he was in his warm bed safely. Another moment passed with Jessie remaining in her daydream with a bright smile gracing her face; Woody was in deep shame and lowered his head in remorse.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked in soft grief. Woody just wished he knew about her troubles, and then he could have helped her through it as he had them to.

It was a silly question he thought, because a bully wouldn't exactly open himself or herself up to the person they bullied. The element was they didn't get along, but he still was confused as to why Jessie changed recently. Her father was a brute, teaching Jessie how to behave and express towards others which wasn't her fault. But it was always out on him. She always left everyone else alone and something about that fact attracted his curiosity.

Jessie shook her head when she awoke from the daydream by his question. In sorrow she said, "I don't know."

Woody blamed himself. "It was me, wasn't it? Did I do something wrong to upset you? I understand if it was."

"No!" Jessie demanded. Woody jumped in his seat slightly by that but kept silent as she continued talking. "It wasn't you! It was never you! It was me." He would have lowered his brow at that point.

"What?" he pleaded.

This was it. Jessie was never going to lie to herself again. The confidence had returned to her and she didn't feel hesitation when she decided to tell him the truth. "It was because… I wanted you to like me."

It was Woody's turn to let his mouth agape. He raised his head and felt flustered. "You wanted me to like you?"

Jessie nodded, even though she knew he couldn't see it. She couldn't bring herself to say it again, but Woody felt her motion and the silence was too noisy anyway, full of a million unseen words.

"I just didn't know how," she confessed again.

In absolute certainty, Woody wasn't sure how to react. The sienna eyes, always gazed at by the complementary pair of Jessie's, were more spherical than they ever were before. Little experience didn't help him figure out how to handle this, but if he was honest those words made him smile. While he was spending each day in dread, he was oblivious to the true reason why it was happening. Jessie liked him and she wanted him to like her too. He didn't even think how weird the whole situation was because it didn't matter. She liked him.

With the smile still on his face, he said simply, "Thank you Jessica."

"What?" Jessie asked in surprise.

"Thank you," Woody said again patiently. Nothing was getting to him now, he felt the happiest he has ever been. "Thank you for being honest with me."

Jessie didn't question it. She heard his smile and the corners of her lips also reached for the sky. "You're welcome."

Hoping Jessie left the past in the past like he had, he asked nervously, "Do you think – we could be friends?"

Her ears were blessed when she heard the question she always dreamed would come to her one day. It was presented to her like warm apple pie and it cozily comforted her inside to out. Suddenly the surroundings were brighter than she could ever imagine. She felt her hand was oppositely tied to his. Embracing the opportunity, she managed to turn hers around and intertwine her fingers with his before saying, "Call me Jessie."

The gentle grasp on the back of his hand made Woody blush. He imagined his heated face was caused by a delicate touch of her lust red hair. Feeling it on his neck when she rested against him again didn't help either. The amazing collection of colours she was gifted with always did fascinate him beyond extent. Neither of the children remembered the danger they were in. Seeing how everything will be fine for them was a light to hold onto together and because they were there for each other, they were no longer alone. No other power on mother earth's blessed planet could overcome that.

...

Dillin, along with Bullseye and Mr. and Mrs. Barlow, had arrived at the woodland earlier that evening. Bo had led them after her mother returned to their home asking where she last saw Jessie. Seeing how the wood isn't the best place to give directions to without a path, Bo thought it would be best if she showed them the way. The only thing they discovered there was a crime scene. Dillin managed to detect much tussling in the soil and the earth told him the story like an open book. Two pairs of child footprints were visibly seen under struggle against three pairs of adult prints. Dillin was enraged after discovering Woody, and probably Jessie too, had been kidnapped. So he followed the directions in sprint with the rest of the group closely behind him.

Pickett's cabin was then within his sight. Mrs. Barlow, Bo and Bullseye were told to wait behind by the men knowing it was going to be dangerous. Dillin began approaching the dusk building confidently, Mr. Barlow at his side, with his revolver at the ready.

Coming to the door he pressed his ear against it to hear some kind of drunken madness going on there. He bashed the door with his fist a few times before exclaiming, "Alright Pickett, come outta there! This is the Sheriff!" The bustle abruptly turned to panic. The three men weren't expecting the Sheriff to find them this quickly, but it came as no surprise as the three of them were about as bright as an eclipse. Wasting their heads didn't help them either.

Inside the house, Pickett's two men barricaded the door with their bodies when Dillin and Barlow began slamming against it. Pickett himself began heading upstairs knowing the Sheriff came here for the kids. But coordinating his steps up the stairs was like solving a rubix cube in his drunken mode.

"Come out and show your face, ya yellow-bellied snake!"

"Aww, missing your little squirt are we Sheriff?" he called back through the door.

Dillins' face fell, his heart stopped beating and his gut wrenched for a split second. Woody was here and Jessie probably was too. Growling when the reality of Pickett would dare aim anything dangerous at Woody. There was no line to cross with that. Even the first step was deadly serious and he was having none of it. Narrowing a deadly glare on the door, he slammed it harder. His one and only purpose in life now was to get Woody out of here safely and absolutely nothing was going to stop him.

...

Upstairs, Woody had first raised his head when he heard the commotion downstairs. He couldn't recognise Dillins' voice since he found it hard to separate the good sounds from the intoxicated partying downstairs after hearing it for a while. Instead he let it be, still scared about what was going to happen to them. Jessie didn't bother because it wasn't anything of surprise. The last moment she shared with Woody was too good to stop thinking about so soon and she remained silent with a peaceful smile on her face. Woody turned his blinded eyes the best he could to his tied partner behind him. He could still feel Jessie leaning against his back; out of exhaustion or bliss he wasn't sure, but he let her. It was the only form of comfort he could offer and truth be told he liked feeling her here too. It continuously reminded the two of them that they were in this together.

Neither had said a word after the last. Jessie and Woody had said all they wanted to say and this balanced moment was what they needed in this frightening time. All they could do now was wait. Waiting for what they were unsure. Waiting for their deaths? Waiting to be rescued? In the dark and cold room they sat. Neither could have gone through such a long wait alone. Unable to see their fate ahead of them kept them quiet and calm. Maybe it was time for them to die? Had they learned all the lessons they needed to in their short lives? Jessie knew she learned something from all of this, Woody too. A valuable thing they learned from each other, personal to them and only them.

Silence broke viciously when Pickett came bursting through the door and their frightened thoughts were salvaged. The children gasped when the large hulky man leaned against the wall to keep balance. They couldn't see this but all in all they didn't want to; his stink was enough to know.

"Hello my little ones," he sneered circling around them.

Now the door was open Woody and Jessie could hear the racket going on downstairs more precisely. It was a fight or a struggle or something along those lines. It confused the pair but they didn't ask what was happening. They were too scared and the grip between their connected hands tightened on both sides when icy air came in. Air not from the wind.

Seeing their expressions delighted Pickett's eyes, "Don't be afraid. The Sheriff is coming, soon this whole nightmare will be over." Jessie shivered by his hissing voice, but Woody was too distracted by his thoughts to notice. He wondered why on earth he was telling them this with confidence. By the tone he figured he was lying to keep them at bay but he had no idea why.

Gathering his remaining courage he asked in an under tone, "What do you want with us?" Jessies' worry for Woody increased when he said this. She knew her father never liked it when he was questioned and she prayed his tolerance level was higher this night. She didn't have to wait long for the response.

Pickett went down to Woody's level and snickered, "I like your spirit, little boy." Woody could feel his breath on his skin and held back any whimpers of fright the best he could. Jessie felt him shake against her and she understood why completely. Then a large jolt was felt when Pickett struck Woody across the cheek harshly.

"Woody!" Jessie cried out.

Woody had never felt so much pain in his life. He bit his lip when powerful stings infested his face, burning his eyes in agony. The tears that escaped his eyes stained his blindfold and he had no choice but to let out a few obvious whimpers. Jessie grit her teeth and struggled furiously, so desperate to break the bonds and attack her father for doing that to Woody.

"That, little man, is to teach you where you place is when you're around me," he ordered. The shock caused Woody to breathe heavily as he understood further of what Jessie had been going through all this time. Woody unwillingly flinched when he felt a large pair of hands move to the back of his head. His blindfold was loosened and removed and Woody met eyes with the hideous man. Pickett observed his hostage, grinning when he took note of Woodys' tear-stricken eyes, sweaty face and swelling cheek.

"Poor boy," he mocked. "Was I being too hard on you?" Picket drew a large knife out of his belt and Woody leaned right back into the chair horrified. Lifting it up Pickett sliced the ropes binding Woody to the chair and struck him again, knocking him to the floor.

"Stop it!" Jessie squealed thrashing in her chair. From what she was hearing those strikes had the potential to kill Woody and unspeakable rage filled her soul. "Leave him alone!"

Pickett turned to Jessie in anger leaving Woody on the floor. He gripped her chin and snarled in her face, "I worry about you darlin'. You still don't know when to hold your tongue when you should."

Jessie heard the words that escaped her own lips come from him. The person she had become forcing Woody further and further away from her each day. Someone she cared about being pushed away by her own doing.

"You can't stop me from facing you," she said sternly at him. She was still afraid of what he might do to her but this started as inevitable, it was just a matter of time when it finally became known. "You deserve every word said at you. Look at what you've become after ma died. This is not you, pa. This was never meant to be you. Is this way of life really helping you get over her?"

Pickett looked at his daughter in bewilderment. He was expecting her to be disconsolate and submissive like all the other times. All along she knew what was going on in his head every time he gulped the drink down, wreaked havoc in a local town or shot an innocent for amusement. It got through to him but he despised his weakness being revealed out in the open. And by a child was what made it worse.

"How dare you, Jessica?" he said in a sinister growl. "I told you. To never. Say anything like that. To me."

Jessie couldn't fight back all of the sorrow exerting from deep inside her. Her eyes went teary and her lip quivered rapidly. She had to carry on though despite this.

"Ma wouldn't have wanted this, pa," she cried. "You know she wouldn't."

Anger brewed from his very core and he lifted the knife up to cut her ropes too. Jessie gripped the arm holding her up by the jaw, franticly trying to loosen the grasp. He pointed the knifes' tip at her neck.

"If you miss your mummy so much then I'll re-unite you," he grimaced.

Jessie was crying too much. This couldn't be happening she thought. Shutting her eyes tightly she feared the pain that was in the next few seconds. Her thoughts when then interrupted when she felt her father lose balance and collapse on the ground. Before she could comprehend what happened, Woody helped her up and they ran to the other side of the room. They would have ran out the door but Picketts' fall blocked them from it and he quickly but awkwardly got back up to his feet. He, along with Jessie, took note of the rag that was now loosely wrapped around his ankles.

Pickett smirked as he looked up to Woody, "You smart little scavenger."

Jessie wrapped her arms around Woody who in return wrapped his arms around her. As the monster approached slowly, they backed up against the wall and slid down to the floor. Too frightened to do anything, they shut their eyes and held on to each other tightly. Pickett raised the knife for the last time that night. Readying the strike to end the lives of the infants once and for all. If they wanted to defy him together, then they will die together.

A powerful blast conquered the air with a mighty bang. It left the infants' ears ringing and banished their thoughts. Woody opened his eyes boldly and looked up to see the man he feared was shaking. His back was arched, his face was horror-stricken and the colour hardheartedly left his skin. A miracle was to be seen there and then for Woody when the madman lifelessly hit the floor. Time slowed when Dillin was seen at the door with the source of the ringing sound in his hands. The Navy Colt Revolver shined marvelously in the moonlight taking great pride in its' role as a killing instrument. Somehow the guns' presence settled the youngster like a relative and Woody watched the light grace over the very thing that saved his life. Darkening shades began spreading from his eyes and just before he passed out, the dream-shaped words heard settled his heart,

"You're okay now, son."