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Mornings
Jantallian
These ficlits are not a continuous story, but snapshots along the way. They cover both original episodes and imaginative explorations of what might have happened in between, along with some development of other fanfictions of mine.
They will be posted as separate chapters as more are added but will only be roughly chronological. When there are enough, I'll sort them according to seasons and repost.
1 The First Morning After
2 The Morning after the First Morning
3 And a couple of mornings after that
4 Cold Awakenings (Mornings in Glory Road) for Jess, Andy, Jonesy
5 Crazy way to start the day (The Lawbreakers)
6 Mornings mainly in sound effects (Jess/Andy, Slim/Jess)
7 Tree-shaped Trouble (Iron Captain)
1
The First Morning After
The morning after was usually the moment when you got hit by the fact that you should have had considerably less beer, or whiskey if such was your fancy, the evening before. A hangover was not the problem today. All the same, the moment Slim Sherman opened his eyes, he was aware something was different. Radically different.
It took a few blinks, as always, to get his eyelids to admit the low beams of the early morning sun, just sneaking in through the window, for all the world as shifty as a man coming home with a hangover he didn't want to announce. When his eyes decided to co-operate, Slim sat up quietly and looked round the bunk-room.
Andy was curled up in a heap of blankets in the bed next to him, as usual.
Jonesy's bunk was already empty, as usual.
This morning, the top bunk was occupied.
Slim could see very little of the stranger he had so blithely invited into his home. They'd had trouble enough convincing Jess Harper he could sleep inside with the rest of them, not outside in the dilapidated bunkhouse as he seemed to expect. And no doubt that young man was going to prove trouble as well as help, since his background was obviously so different from the settled family life of the ranch. But it was trouble worth taking! Slim was absolutely certain he could trust this drifter who had so unexpectedly showed his integrity when it came to a fight for justice.
All he could see now was the lean outline of the body under the blankets, which were pulled up tight like a distinct visual warning: 'don't dare stir me out of this'. Slim sighed. He hoped this didn't mean Jess would be as bad at getting up as Andy was, but he rather suspected this would be the case. All that was visible was a tangle of rough, dark hair on the pillow and a muscular arm, the hand outstretched towards the gun-belt hanging on the bunk-post. Slim gave another sigh. Jess had refused, politely but unequivocally, to be parted from his gun: it was the condition on which he consented to sleep inside. It was perhaps to be expected from a man used to being his own best defense, but it made Slim wonder why he had been able to disarm him twice the previous day. After all, he had quickly found out what a canny fighter the Texan was.
Jess. He had to think of the man by his name now. They'd got off to a pretty poor start, but each of them had misjudged the other.
Thinking of starts reminded Slim he had to make a start to this new day and its work. For the first time in a long time the thought did not burden him with a sense of all his responsibilities. Today he would have someone working beside him.
He got up quickly and quietly, dressed quickly and quietly, went to the bunk-room door just as quietly and quickly, all without disturbing the two sleepers. Andy was young and still at the stage where he seemed to need as much rest as a baby most of the time. Slim paused and looked back at the top bunk. There was no sign of movement. He shrugged and went out to join Jonesy.
As always, enticing aromas were drifting out of the kitchen. The table was set for breakfast. The skillet and kettle rattled against the stove. Jonesy's footsteps underlay the noise, slightly uneven as they always were because of his crooked back.
Slim smiled affectionately. His world settled back to normal. He went out to wash.
By the time he had finished and shaved, Jonesy had, with the impeccable timing of long practice, brought their breakfast to the table. As Slim took his place, the bunk-room door opened. He looked up in anticipation.
It was Andy, looking sleepy and slightly tousled, but nonetheless sufficiently awake to make a bee-line for the food.
"Andy!" Slim reprimanded sharply. "We don't start before our guests."
Andy looked up in surprise, a fried egg dangling dangerously from his fork. "Jess ain't a guest. He's family now."
"Isn't," Slim corrected automatically. "And he hired on as a hand." He had an inkling that for a loner, answerable only to himself, too much 'family' too quickly might be something which would drive his new worker into leaving.
"A hand's a guest now?" Jonesy contributed sardonically.
But Andy asserted fervently: "Jess needs family. He's been on his own forever!"
Behind them to bunk-room door had begun to open. Slim snapped hastily, "That's enough! Do as you're told!"
"Me too?" Jonesy inquired, eyeing his young employer askance.
"Yeah – get the coffee!" Slim ordered, but he softened it with a wink and a grin.
Ever afterwards Jonesy attributed Jess's behavior on that first morning to the fact that the coffee pot was still in the kitchen. Whatever the reason, the new addition to the household was almost as tousled as Andy and definitely as sleepy. Those startling blue eyes were mere slits and his expression did not encourage the cheery greetings which had been naturally forming on their lips. His shirt was unbuttoned but he was wearing his gun-belt. He headed straight for the door, uttering a mumbled "Mornin'" as he did so.
The door creaked shut. They heard the sound of the pump, followed by a certain amount of splashing which seemed to be rather half-hearted. Slim was reassuring himself that at least he'd hired someone who was inclined to wash – there had been times when … he stopped this train of thought. He had a feeling Jess Harper was not going to be like any other hand they had ever hired. In this, he was entirely right.
They waited. Andy fidgeted. The eggs got cold, or rather they would have done had not Jonesy returned the hot components of the meal to the stove. Slim poured another cup of coffee.
Andy's expression was gradually morphing from impatience for his breakfast to serious worry. "D'you think he's ok, Slim?"
The concern in his tone still made Slim feel jealous, even though he realized how much he had misjudged Andy's hero. "He's spent years on the drift, Andy. He's perfectly capable of looking after himself!" That much they had gathered from the previous evening's conversation.
"Ain't my cookin's poisoned him?" Jonesy was half-joking, half-concerned that the latest member of the household might be seriously confined in the privy.
Confronted with the unease in both their faces, Slim gave in. "You'd better start," he conceded as he rose from his chair.
Andy just shook his head mutely.
Jonesy muttered, "It'll keep hot awhile."
Slim resisted an urge to rattle the door on its hinges as he went out.
There was no-one in the yard, although there was damp dust indicating a hasty wash under the pump. There was no sign of anyone in the corral or the near paddock. If Jess ridden off for some unexplained reason, they'd have heard hooves on the road. Slim went over and checked the privy rather cautiously: he had respect for his new hand and didn't want to cause him embarrassment. Finding no-one in residence, he turned and strode over to the barn.
The first thing to greet him was the sound of a voice, a kind of deep, rumbling growl which was somehow soothing, despite the fact that it was murmuring words in no language Slim had ever heard. A horse gave a low whicker, almost as if it was answering, and it shifted as it tossed its head.
"Give over, you old fool! You'll get it soon enough!" A bucket clattered and Jess continued, "Now eat that and stay put, you hear? We ain't hittin' the trail today."
Hooves moved briskly as Slim's chestnut, Alamo, tried to get a share of the food Jess was lavishing on his own mount. Slim moved closer and looked into the neighboring stall.
"What are you doing out here, Jess?" he asked in confusion.
Jess straightened up from where he had been depositing the feed-bucket and looked at Slim as if he was raving mad. "Seein' to my horse, what else?"
"What about breakfast?" Slim suggested gently.
Jess frowned. "There's breakfast?"
Slim nodded reassuringly. Jess seemed not to have noticed the laden table in the room he had walked through not long ago. It was puzzling, but Slim figured that if, as Andy had said, Jess had been on his own for many years, the times when he had a roof over his head where there was someone to cook a meal for him would have been few and far between. "Yeah. Jonesy always cooks for us before we get started on the day's work."
"For me as well?"
Jess obviously felt that, despite eating with them last night, he could not necessarily expect to eat with the family all the time.
"Yeah, of course!" Slim hastened to reassure him.
A delighted grin transformed Jess's face. The idea of food was evidently welcome. He slid past the bay horse as it ate, saying, "Stay here, Trav. Stay." As Alamo thrust his head over the partition, Jess ducked and told Slim, "Your fella's plenty mad at me, but I don't know your routine with him, so I wouldn't feed him without askin' first."
Slim nodded appreciatively. A man's horse was one of his greatest assets and not to be interfered with lightly. He approved of Jess's reasoning. "Thanks. We'll give him a little something now and then I'll see to him when we've eaten, like usual. Now come on, you look as if you could do with some coffee."
"I could use a cup," Jess affirmed.
That turned out to be one of the biggest understatements Jess Harper would ever utter!
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2
The Morning after the First Morning
Jonesy picked up two coffee pots and carried them into the living room, where he deposited them on the table. He stood regarding his provisions for a moment, rather as if he was doing complicated calculations in his head. There was plenty of bread, butter and fruit. And more than plenty of coffee – he hoped!
The bunk-room door opened and Slim came out. His usual early morning greeting was accompanied by a big grin as he added, "I see you're well prepared today!"
Jonesy scowled. "I gotta hope so. But y'd better dock something out of his wages or pay him in kind!"
Slim shook his head, but responded understandingly, "It'll wear off, once he gets used to having three square meals a day." With that he went out, as usual, to wash and shave.
Jonesy shook his head too. "Y' wanna bet? Looks like the habit of a starvin' lifetime to me!" He stomped off to the kitchen to fetch the much augmented breakfast he had prepared.
The front door and the bunk-room door opened simultaneously. Slim and Jess came face to face as Jess headed to the front door.
"Mornin'."
"Good morning." Slim stepped aside to let his employee go outside, but pointed out, "There's coffee on the table."
Jess nodded in acknowledgment. "I'll be right back." He disappeared into the yard and they heard the pump creaking, just like the first morning. Very soon after, Jess stuck his head round the door, water still clinging to his damp hair and dripping onto his shirt.
"Y're allowed a towel!" Jonesy told him caustically and fetched one from the linen press.
"Thanks!" Jess rubbed himself vigorously, then looked at the damp towel in perplexity, clearly unsure what to do with it next.
"On the washing line?" Jonesy suggested, suppressing a grin.
"Oh, yeah. An' I'll just check on Trav. I'll be right back."
Jonesy shook his head. "Guess that horse is the only thing the boy values more'n vittles!"
The bunk-room door opened again and Andy rushed out hastily, demanding, "Where's Jess?"
"He'll be back!" Jonesy pointed to the two coffee pots. "He's had the scent of coffee this mornin'!"
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3
And a couple of mornings after that
"Best coffee ever, Jonesy!"
Jess's appreciative compliment met with a grunt from the old cook, who retorted: "If one of us don't get into town for supplies, there ain't gonna be any kinda coffee any time soon."
"Guess I'd better make the most of it while it's goin', then" Jess said as he reached out to pour himself another mug.
Slim's hand came down on the coffee pot even quicker. "Fair shares," he pointed out firmly. "Maybe we need to ration you to one every couple of hours?"
Jess somehow contrived to look seriously deprived and totally innocent at the same time. It was an expression they were all going to become very familiar with. "Can't work without coffee," he pleaded, gazing at the coffee pot as if it was pure gold.
"Then we'd better go and get some more," Slim decided. "It will give me a chance to introduce you to the merchants I deal with and show you what there is in Laramie."
"Aside from saloons where you can get a beer?" Jess grinned, remembering Slim's offer to buy him a drink on the very first day.
"Aside from saloons!" Slim stated firmly. He still didn't hold with the morals of open gambling, but was not averse to slaking his thirst when need be.
Jess looked up from his contemplation of the coffee pot and caught Andy's wistful expression. "Just as well if we're takin' Andy along," he agreed. "We can grab that drink some other time. Coffee's more important!"
This caused an amused snort from Jonesy and a chuckle from Andy, who was eager to plead his cause: "I can drive the buckboard, Slim, and it'll lighten the load, 'cos I weigh much less than you two."
Slim raised his eyebrows at this quite obviously spurious piece of reasoning. He looked at Jess, who gave him an amused wink. He looked at Jonesy, whose judgement he trusted rather more than Jess's alliance with Andy.
"No harm in Laramie, now y've put paid to Carlin's gang," Jonesy pointed out. After all, he'd been arguing for just such an expedition not so long ago. "An' y'll only be goin' straight there and back."
"We will?" Neither Slim nor Jess was anticipating quite such a quick turnaround.
"You will. If y' ain't back with my supplies in time for me t' cook dinner, there ain't gonna be any dinner!"
That settled it!
"There ain't? Right – c' mon, Andy, let's get that team harnessed up!"
Jess and Andy were out of the front door before Slim could open his mouth to object. So instead, he sat back to let them get on with it – and helped himself to a final cup of coffee.
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4
Cold Awakenings
(Mornings in 'Glory Road')
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Jess
"Jess, wake up, I want to talk to you."
Jess's deep but uneasy slumber was penetrated by the one voice he devoutly wished never to hear again. If Miss Essie's God answered prayers at all, surely he could find some way of freeing them all from the threat of Roany's presence?
Hardly awake, Jess was equally hardly careful of the need to handle the man tactfully, for he muttered sleepily: "Can't it wait till morning?"
Bad question! One which got him the expected answer.
"It can't wait at all!"
Jess forced his eyes open and his brain to function. Morning was never his time for demanding discussions, especially without the essential coffee, but he should have known Roany's single-minded determination was not going to be deflected. There was nothing for it but to go along with whatever the man wanted to discuss at this ungodly hour.
"All right, Roany, what is it?"
"Jess, I want you to go out and find me a little ranch, for me and Miss Essie."
Was he still dreamin'? Jess mentally shook his head, because he knew better than to make sudden movements with Roany looming so close over him. It must be his imagination … or maybe he just misheard because he was still half asleep?
"You and Miss Essie?"
Another bad question! One which had Roany on the edge of being offended.
"You act like you didn't know?"
The incredulity in Roany's voice instantly alerted Jess that he was on dangerous ground. Roany obviously felt Jess was fooling with him for some reason and this was only going to exacerbate his erratic emotions even more.
Hoping he sounded totally sincere, Jess responded with the simple truth. "I don't."
A statement which was met with disbelief.
"I heard her talking to you, about rooting down. Oh – she didn't tell you she meant with me, huh?"
Darn! He hadn't realized the peaceful talk beside the wagon that evening had been sufficiently loud for anyone to overhear. Not that it had been private, far from it. But you never knew how Roany was goin' to react. If he thought Jess was usurpin' his place in Miss Ellie's esteem - !
"No, she didn't."
More angry distrust!
"You don't believe me!"
Roany's tone was mad enough for Jess to respond hastily and perfectly truthfully: "Sure, Roany. I was just thinkin'."
"You just think about finding us a good spread. I can pay for it. I can put down on it, I got the money. I can get $200 for my saddle. Can you go out and find me a place tomorrow?"
How the hell did Roany think he was goin' to be able to do that? Like Jess had vacant ranches tucked up his sleeve! Jess was appalled at the thought of Miss Essie, resilient though she undoubtedly was, being at the mercy of Roany's paranoia. Surely she could not have agreed to any such thing? And unless he could find a ranch at the other end of the territory, it was goin' to bring Roany permanently far too close to the ranch and Andy!
"Don't you think you ought to talk it over with Miss Essie first?"
Bad question! But then, anything Jess said which questioned Roany's plans was going to end up badly.
"No, I want it to surprise her. Don't say a word. You just find us a good place."
A pang of pity went through Jess for, despite all he knew about the violence this man was capable of committing, he felt for Roany's insecurity and his longing to be accepted.
"Sure, Roany."
At least he'd been gifted with the time till morning to come up with some kind of a plan. Maybe lure Roany out of town so that Miss Essie could make her escape to safety someplace else? But in his heart, he knew that there was no way to break Roany's obsession. No safe way out of this dilemma. If Roany felt betrayed, he would not hesitate to kill!
"Jess, make it a nice place. Don't forget - you owe me."
That was the inescapable truth. It was a burden Jess would carry until one of them died.
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Cold Awakenings
Andy
Andy stirred restlessly, scrabbling at the quilt and blankets as if trying to bury himself away from the world. This appeared not much different from his behavior every morning. But it was not every morning.
Even without opening his eyes, Andy knew the room was empty.
Empty.
Empty in a way that it had not been for several years.
Empty as the morning when he had woken to find that his beloved mother was not sleeping in the bed next to him. And she was not moving about the kitchen and the living room, her voice cheerful and loving as she talked with Jonesy about preparing breakfast and the tasks ahead of them that day.
Empty as the realization that she lay still and cold in the newly dug grave on the hillside above the house.
Empty as the bed she would never return to sleep peacefully in.
Empty as the hollowed shell of his heart had felt then, which once a loving mother and father had always filled.
Andy bolted upright in his bed. His eyes snapped open. He had to know!
The top bunk was empty. The blankets had been stripped and folded neatly at the foot. The pillows were undented. The sheets and pillowcases were gone. There was no shirt hitched over the bedpost. No socks lurking in the dust beneath the bottom bunk. No pile of clean linen waiting in vain on the dresser top for Jess to put it in his drawer.
Andy could not cope any more. He left his bed with a speed which he had never achieved before, flung on his clothes and bolted out into the living room.
"Easy!"
He'd nearly bowled Slim over.
"You're in an all-fired hurry to get started this morning!"
Andy's heart was still thumping uncomfortably because the strange emptiness extended to the living room. Jonesy had always been there. When Andy could not bear the anguish of loss any longer, it had been Jonesy's arms which had held him tight in silent communion. Andy stared at his elder brother as if he was once again the stranger, newly returned from the war, who had shared Andy's bereavement but not the experiences which made up his grief.
A stranger! That was what Jess had been. And now he was not a stranger. But he was not there. Only the same emptiness, the same grief.
Jess was not dead! Andy could brandish that thought like a weapon, but he had seen in Roany Bishop's eyes the light of utter ruthlessness. He did not understand why or what Roany could do. But underneath that jovial demeanor he sensed a danger akin to the way Bud Carlin has masked his evil with a joke.
Jess was afraid of Roany! Andy did not know why, but despite his hero-worship of the brave and invincible loner of his imagination, he knew that in reality if Jess feared someone, it would only be for a very good reason.
"Come and get your breakfast." Slim's voice broke into Andy's thoughts. "There's a lot to do today."
Chores. More soaping harness. More grooming. More preparation for the passengers' comfort. And they didn't even have Jonesy to prepare refreshments, so Andy had to do his best. Then he leaned on the gate next to Slim, watching the approach of the stagecoach down the ridge road but not hearing Slim's accolades about Frankie as a driver. Andy's heart and mind were entirely occupied with the unknown danger twelve miles away in Laramie.
"Think he'll ever come back, Slim?"
"You mean Jess? I don't know, Andy. This is the way Pa had it planned. Us two running the place together. We'll get along. Jess has got a right to go if he wants."
"I guess so." Andy hesitated a moment. If Slim had been willing to do something, he would not have let Jess go off with Roany and Miss Essie. He could help Jess, not let him down. But Slim would never abandon the ranch and relay station – not even for a day – not even for a friend! Nevertheless, Andy was not going to accept this as the end of the story.
"But what if he didn't want to go, Slim? He went because he was afraid of that man, not because he wanted to leave with him."
"Jess told me Roany saved his life," Slim said unexpectedly.
"Saved his life?" The news threw Andy off-balance, but not for long. "So he went because he was obliged to. Not 'cause he wanted to. And he was afraid – can't you see that, Slim?"
"What you can't see is that other people have a greater claim on Jess than we do!" Slim snapped back, his patience obviously exhausted. "He stopped here for a while. Now he's gone. He doesn't owe us anything. Not anything that will tie him down. Just accept it, can't you, Andy!"
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Cold Awakenings
Jonesy
That boy never wanted it to end in death!
Jonesy's first thought on wakening was not his usual one of the tasks he had to get on with to start the day nor his deep affectionate care for Slim and Andy nor even his aching back. No, ever since the shootout in the bar, he could not get Jess out of his mind. He knew how much the Texan was willing to do to protect others, especially the innocent like Andy and Miss Essie, from Roany Bishop. He had seen – and it was with amazement – Jess's swift and skillful gun-play. But he was certain that Jess had not wanted it to end in the death at his hand of a man to whom he had the ultimate obligation. He had seen the young man wrestling silently with the possibilities and strategies to free them all from the dilemma that was Roany. He had seen too, behind all this, Jess's horrified compassion for the depth of insecurity which consumed Roany and drove him to be far less than the human being he really was.
Jonesy shook his head in wonder at this and even more Miss Essie's forgiving acceptance of all that the man was, as well as her understanding of all that he had the potential to be. She sure was an amazing woman! No-one could be blamed for falling just a little in love with the generous spirit which lit her up from within and showered blessings on everyone she met. And she had let him play the piano …
Jonesy did not want to think about the fate of the piano, its magical guts spilled out all over the saloon floor. From giving the miracle of melody, it was reduced to nothing more than firewood. But if his heart mourned for the piano, it ached even more for Jess and the look in his eyes in the split second before he took that shot – giving life and taking it in the same simple action.
Life, however, was what they all had to get on with. And he had to get on with getting the breakfast or Slim and Andy would not be ready for the duties of the day. Duties they would find harder because they missed Jess's contribution, brief though it had been. For Jonesy himself, just getting breakfast and, still more, brewing the coffee would simply not be the same without Jess.
The hole in all their lives was all too evident.
Slim, level-headed as he was and always one to keep a tight control on his emotions, showed a marked reluctance to start each day. When he did eventually appear and head out for his morning ablutions, there was none of the cheerful greetings and easy-going banter he usually exchanged with Jonesy. The wise cook surmised that Slim was struggling with his own feelings and the risk he had taken in inviting Jess to join the ranch, as well as wrestling with how to cope with Andy's anguished feelings.
As he deposited Slim's breakfast in front of him, Jonesy feigned nonchalance: "Look at it thisaway – there ain't any competition for the last slice o' bacon and there is plenty of coffee for everyone."
The look Slim leveled at him in silent reply made it clear that no amount of extra bacon or coffee was worth Jess's absence.
They were both spared a discussion of this truth by the appearance of a woebegone Andy, his hair tousled and his clothes crumpled, since he had simply dropped them on the floor last night.
Jonesy looked hard at Slim, challenge in his eyes.
Slim seemed to gather himself in, taking responsibility for accepting the situation and giving them clear standards by which to cope with it.
"Clean clothes, Andy," he commented briefly. "Wash your face and brush your hair before you come to the table."
This was a routine Andy had followed a thousand times before, but his head went up and his eyes were suspiciously bright: "Jess never –"
"You're a Sherman," Slim pointed out mildly but firmly. "And you know perfectly well Jess washed every morning, even if he didn't have as many clean shirts as you do."
Andy gave a ragged gulp, but turned on his heel and did not return from the bunk-room until he was in a suitable state of tidiness. That he was not in a suitable state of mind was apparent as soon as he sat down at the table.
"Why's he takin' so long to come home?" he demanded, stabbing a fork into the food on his plate as if it were the only obstacle which prevented Jess's return.
Slim and Jonesy exchanged harassed looks. It was Jonesy who replied: "He's dealin' with Roany's death, Andy. That's what he said to me. He had to sort out who'd need to know and if Roany had any next of kin. Who knows where that's took him?"
"That's a hard task," Slim explained. "Someone like Roany travels without company, without friends or family. But who knows what he left behind him? I guess that's what Jess is trying to find out."
"He took Jess away!" Andy's emotions burst out, not for the first time. "He didn't deserve to have a friend like Jess!"
"Jess rode with Roany to try to keep him from harmin' anyone," Jonesy asserted. He was careful not to suggest that Jess was protecting Andy specifically, because boys need some pride to tide them through the hard things.
"Like Miss Essie?" Andy asked grudgingly.
"Yeah. Like Miss Essie," Jonesy agreed. "She's a brave woman and accustomed to bein' on her own, but Jess knew that Roany was dangerous in ways none of us had experience of."
"And he killed him?"
"He didn't have any choice, Andy," Jonesy assured him softly. "It was Miss Essie's life at stake. Jess did what he had to do." He did not recount the look he had seen in Jess's eyes, though it would remain with him all his days.
"So now he's lookin' after Roany and he's forgettin' us!"
"He's handling a lot of legal stuff, Andy." Slim let his own admiration for Jess's conscience and sense of duty color his tone. "And don't forget Miss Essie needs his support too."
"Jonesy needs his support!" Andy asserted mutinously. "He lost a piano!"
The picture was so incongruous in contrast to all the violence of the recent events that it made Slim and Jonesy smile. As was Andy's intention – he was more shrewd and sensitive to the moods of others than was immediately obvious.
"Guess Jonesy needs something to take his mind off the loss?" Slim suggested, still smiling. "I brought in a whole bunch of cows and calves from the top range yesterday." It would have been so much easier if Jess had been riding herd with him! "Those young 'uns are going to need a thorough look-over to make sure they're fit and healthy. Reckon you could help me keep them penned down so Jonesy can make a close inspection and use his witch's brew where it's needed."
"Sure thing, Slim!" Andy was eager to be of use and to fill the space which he perceived Jess had left in his brother's plans.
"Witch's brew!" Jonesy muttered, but he followed them out willingly, happy to support Slim and distract Andy, even though it meant riding a horse.
Neither Slim nor Jonesy were willing to express the thought uppermost in all their minds – that Jess might never come back to the Sherman ranch. For this reason they both pressed on with the work with the young calves, keeping Andy as fully occupied as they could. By midday they were all hot, sweaty, dusty, aching in most of their limbs, and more than ready for a refreshing drink and a meal.
They headed back to the relay station and the welcome cool of the barn and house. They rode into the yard in a flurry of hooves and a haze of dust. Then, as they dismounted, from the house they heard … the hesitant but piercingly sweet notes of a piano …
Andy's face lit up with a sudden perception and acknowledgement.
"It's Jess! He's home!"
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5
Crazy way to start the day
(The Lawbreakers)
Watching for the dawn light to gradually filter through the trees with a rawhide thong round your neck and knobbly bark sticking into your spine was not an ideal way to start the day. Jess's eyes were dry with fatigue and he felt as if someone had spent the night pouring sand into them. His neck was stiff, his legs aching and his backside numb from sitting unmoving for so long. In addition he could barely feel his fingers because his hands had been tightly tied. And the rawhide was beginning to tighten round his throat.
He had only himself to blame. First off, he volunteered for this crazy treasure hunt. Second, he was an idiot to have believed that Dallas would give up any advantage so easily and, if he could have moved his legs, he should be kicking himself for not searching the man thoroughly for hidden weapons. Third, the life expectancy of anyone who was member of the expedition was a clear warning that ruthless greed was at work and any idea of dividing the loot was even more crazy. Fourth, he had a great deal of experience as a scout and knew perfectly well that they were being followed, presumably by the fifth member of the gang, the mysterious and infamous Chocktaw, who was probably the craziest of the lot. Fifth and last, he had somehow become infected with the utterly crazy optimism of Judge Barnaby Cade that everything would be fine.
Given Jess's propensity for using this description with minimal regard for its applicability to his own physical condition, he should have been warned.
Then an appalling scream rent the pre-dawn twilight.
Telling a man he had only seven minutes of life left and having to watch him die, knowing that your best efforts were in vain, was brutal. It truly was an even less ideal way to start the day - if you were alive. But it was so much more terrible when the start was also an end – an end which came upon you all unexpected, out of nowhere, except from your own greed.
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6
Mornings mainly in sound effects
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Early Bird Catches
Cock crow.
- Dawn! Darn' it, it's dawn! –
An almighty thud of bare feet hitting the bare boards. A stifled protest from the bed beyond.
- Thank the good Lord f' cockerels! 'Cept that means the darn'd hens will need lettin' out! There's always a catch! –
Sound of a hurried exit by a harried Texan, hastily pulling on his pants and gun belt as he goes.
Followed by muttering, clanging and muted cursing from the kitchen.
"How'n heck does Jonesy manage all this every mornin'? Gotta give Andy a proper breakfast though. Eggs and bacon. Hens? Eggs? No, another catch. Coffee, hens, eggs!"
The rattle of the stove door, a yelp of pain, more rattling from poker and fresh fuel, the hiss of water spilling on the hotplate, another yelp, another muted curse.
A creak from the kitchen door. A splash from the pump. Grating from the stiff barn door. Stamping hooves and impatient neighing.
"All right, all right! I'll get to y' in a minute!"
More scraping as the hen hutches open. More crowing and wing flapping. And cursing.
"Darn' rooster! Peck me once more an' y' for the pot!"
After that catch, a cacophony of clucking. The staccato of scattered grain.
"An' if you feathered menaces ain't laid any eggs, y'll be joinin' him!"
Fortunately eggs don't need catching. But they do need some kind of receptacle for carrying. Cue sound of a shirt being torn off. Torn, anyway.
Boots on the loft ladder. The sibilant hiss of hay being tossed down. An indignant squawk from Anas platyrhynchos. Napoloen the duck now bent of retribution.
"Ok, ok, y' don't need to drop straw on me, just 'cos I fed the hens first!"
A crescendo of quacking.
"Y' sound like a kettle coming to the ... Oh heck!"
The glissade of rapid ladder descent. The clatter of sprinting boots. The scrunch of a skidded halt. Another catch. This time, the physical kind.
"Eggs. Ain't gotta forget Andy's breakfast."
Protesting creak from the kitchen door again. Shrill screech of a boiling kettle. Clang of a falling tin. And, yes, slightly less muted cursing.
At which point, the door to the living room opens, accompanied by a startled squeak.
"J – j – jess! Are you ok?"
"I'm fine. Why?"
"Well, you've got your gun belt on but no shirt, there's straw on your shoulders and feathers in your hair and egg running though your fingers and coffee beans all over the floor. Oh, and the kettle's boiling over."
"Yeah. I'm just gettin' breakfast."
"No. You're going to wash up. I'm going to make you some coffee. Then we can get breakfast together."
A chuckle. Followed by another.
"Sure, Andy. Guess there'll be fewer catches that way!"
.
Speeding things up
From the kitchen, the rattle of pots and pans.
From the yard, the grating whine of the pump-handle and cheerful whistling.
From the bedroom, a reluctant shuffling.
The creak of the bedroom door.
A corresponding creak of the front door.
In the kitchen, a sudden and possibly coincidental silence.
In the yard, a silence of bated breath.
Spl - - - ash!
"A -a – a – rrrr -ggg – h!"
Or some such noise.
An innocent tone. "Just thought you might need a hand speeding up your morning wash, Jess."
A retributive silence.
"Y' did, did y', Slim?"
Some rapid footsteps and the squelch of a shovel being thrust into the sludge under the water trough.
"Hey! Put that down!"
A sound of hissing and spluttering accompanying a minor deluge of mud.
An indignant groan. "I already washed!"
"Did y'? Guess y' just gonna have t' slow down an' wash again then, ain't y'!"
.
.
7
Tree-shaped Trouble
(Iron Captain)
- That tree again! -
Tied securely to one, Jess Harper might reasonably have asked himself why it was his fate to end up with twisted arms and rough bark digging into his back once again. After all, he had been well on his way to escaping. As it was, he had a perfect right to feel indignant as well as muddle-headed, having been slugged and roughed over after he had been pulled from his horse.
- Prado had let him go! –
Jess's mind was swirling with a mixture of fury at his captors and self-blame. He had done everything he could to avoid detection when he found himself outside the shack door, free, and the guards nowhere to be seen. Prado had already fooled him twice and he was taking no chances that this might be another trap intended to humiliate him. He didn't care much about the humiliation, but he did care about getting the hell out of there and finding and helping Slim.
So he had inched his way through the shadows, moving as soundlessly as he had been trained to do. He approached the horse lines cautiously, not appearing suddenly and startling the animals, but allowing them to get the scent and then the sight of him, before he made any attempt to unhitch Traveller. He had not wasted time with a saddle, but on the other hand he had not leaped on board and made a dash for the main trail to freedom. Instead he had stealthily eased his way into the surrounding trees, carefully picking a route where he and the horse would make least noise and avoid getting snagged on overhanging branches. It took him a quarter of an hour before he deemed it safe to re-join the main path. Even then, he did not mount up and gallop away, but kept Traveller moving quietly through the shadows for some distance, until he figured he should have passed any outlying guards.
Had he been wrong? He did not have time to find out because no sooner had he urged Traveller into a gallop than he found himself being closely pursued, overtaken despite his best efforts, pulled from his horse and slugged for what felt like a considerable time.
Certainly he did not really recall being tied up to that darn'd tree again. He came to somewhere around dawn, stiff and aching all over. The two beatings he had received had left more than a few marks. His legs felt as if they had been turned to stone somewhere during a long day and night standing upright. His back stung where the bark pressed unrelentingly into his skin. His head ached and his bottom lip was swollen from one of the blows to his face.
This just made Jess mad or rather madder because he could not get free and, if he did, he was in no physical shape to take the kind of punitive action needed against Prado and his gang. And above all, the pain reminded him of Slim's hand and the damage Prado had inflicted on it.
Slim, of course, had remained unflinching and simply gone about the task he had been set by the madman. Jess could only hope that nothing was broken or permanently damaged.
If it was ...
Jess resisted the impulse of his fury which was trying to goad him into struggling against the ropes that bound him so tightly in arboreal captivity. He was going to conserve his stubborn strength for more important things like making sure Prado got everything that was coming to him. Jess had more sense than to waste effort on inanimate objects, especially as, in this instance, there was no doubt – the tree was going to win!
.
.
NOTES:
Acknowledgements:
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.
Thanks as always to Westfalen for excellent beta-ing and gifting me with ideas.