Bitter Ending

by Badgergater

Missing scenes from the episode Bitter Glory; how did Jess get back to Laramie?

Bitter Ending

By Badgergater

Missing Scenes, Episode: Bitter Glory

Summary: In front of the cabin, Jess knelt beside Billy as the old soldier held Ellie's body.

(What took place immediately after the death of Ellie and before the closing scene with Jess back home.)

Author' note: As always, thanks to my amazing beta, Hired Hand, who makes every story better.

x Laramie x x Laramie x x Laramie x x Laramie x x Laramie x x Laramie x

Part One

Jess' mission was finished — successfully. He'd found his old friend Billy, the stolen payroll money was on its way back to the Army, and the man who'd bushwhacked him was dead.

And Billy was holding the body of his beautiful young wife.

For long moments, Jess stayed where he was, kneeling on the ground while the paper that had filled the saddlebags, substituted for the stolen payroll, scattered to the winds. He didn't move, he didn't want to interrupt his friend's grief. He couldn't imagine what Billy was feeling at that moment, cradling the woman's body. Maybe she hadn't been much of a wife, but a blind man could see that Billy had loved her.

Jess didn't know a whole lot about love but he knew that it wasn't rational, it didn't stop just because someone had betrayed you or left you or turned on you. It linked two people even when it wasn't good or true or when you came to the bitter realization that it was no good for you. Laurel had taught him that, and so he did understand at least a part of what Billy was going through, a very small part, he reckoned.

Just then the accumulated wear and tear of the past few days suddenly hit him like a ton of bricks. Two days without food or sleep, two days of ignoring the growing weakness as blood leaked slowly from his unhealed shoulder wound, two days of constant pain gnawing away at his resolve day and night. Focused on what he'd needed to do, Jess had pushed it all aside, driven by anger at the man who'd bushwhacked him, fueled by concern for his old friend, and consumed by the need to stay alive while surrounded by people he couldn't trust.

And now that it was all over, the pumping adrenaline that had kept him moving was fading and Jess, in that moment, had no reserves left to sustain him.

None.

He was suddenly acutely aware that his mouth was as dry as cotton and there was fresh blood trickling wet and warm down his chest. His fight with that no good skunk Cal Mason must have broken his wound open again.

Jess made an effort to stand, ordering his knees to straighten and his legs to move and bear his weight and lift him up, but there was no more strength left in them. Unable to get up, he felt the ground lurch beneath him as if there'd been an earthquake and it seemed as though the sun went suddenly dim. He threw his right arm out to steady himself, his head hanging low as the sky and ground swam sickeningly before his eyes. He slammed them shut but the spinning, sinking, sensations didn't stop.

This was bad.

The good Lord knew he didn't want to intrude on whatever it was Billy was thinking, but it was either say something now or in a moment he was gonna flat out fall on his face right there on the spot. Whichever happened, it meant breaking the solemn moment for his grieving friend, and Jess knew he had no choice.

"Billy." He thought he said the word out loud, but the old sarge didn't look at him so maybe he'd just imagined the sound had passed over his dry lips. He tried again, clearing his throat and taking care to form the words and make the sounds out loud. "I'm sorry, Billy," Jess said more forcefully, the words coming out hoarse and halting, but actually being said aloud this time, "but I ain't feelin' so good."

It was as much of an admission as he could make himself utter, and this time, Billy heard him. The old soldier's head snapped around and for the first time, Billy Jacobs took a good look at his wounded friend.

Jess looked like death warmed over. His face was as pale as parchment and his eyes were dull and heavy, full of weariness and pain. Even down on one knee as he was, Jess looked wobbly as a just-born colt who hadn't found his legs yet, and about ready to keel over.

Reluctantly lowering Ellie's body gently to the ground, Billy got up and grabbed hold of Jess' shoulders, lifting his friend upright. "C'mon, Jess."

Propped up by his old sergeant, Jess took one faltering step before his knees suddenly buckled and his eyes rolled up in his head.

Billy caught him, recalling the other time so long ago when he'd carried a wounded Jess to escape the Apaches. With a lingering look of apology at Ellie, silently pleading for her understanding, Billy lifted the cowboy up into his arms and staggered toward the cabin.

"Either you've gained weight, my friend, or I've gotten old," Billy muttered, but he knew the answer. He was no longer the powerful bear of a man who'd once carried Jess six miles to safety. He wasn't that strong any more, not physically, not mentally, not after all these years, and not after what Ellie and her wiles had done to him. That man of certainty and strength was gone forever, but replaced by a wiser one, he hoped.

Staggering under the weight of his friend's limp body, Billy carried Jess into the cabin. He eased the wounded man gently down to the floor then pulled Cal Mason's lifeless body off the bed. Lifting Jess up again, he put his friend down on the bunk, pulling the covers up and tucking them around the unmoving form.

Turning around, Billy surveyed the mostly bare cabin, searching the scene. Finally spotting the coffee pot on the floor by the potbellied stove as well as an empty bucket standing over against the wall, he gathered them up and carried both out the door. Stopping beside the horses, he set down the containers and took Mason's bedroll from behind the cantle, and a clean shirt from out of his saddlebags. He paused briefly by Ellie's body, overcome by the sight of her beautiful face gone slack and empty in death, but after one long lingering look of infinite sadness, Billy covered her with the bedroll. Then he picked up the pot and bucket and strode over to the stream where he rinsed both containers before filling them with the cold, fresh water.

Hurrying back in the cabin with the water, he put the pot on the stove, stirring the embers into flame and adding several pieces of wood to the fire. Then he took the bucket over by the bed.

Jess hadn't moved. Billy was relieved to see that his friend was still breathing, but appalled at the amount of blood soaking Jess's shirt. Some of the stain was old and dry, but there was quite a bit that was the bright red of fresh bleeding — the wound must have broken open again when Jess fought with Ellie's 'cousin.'

Unbuttoning the top three buttons of Jess' bloodied shirt, Billy discovered the crude bandages put in place by the stage driver, stuck to the wound now with dried blood. Frowning with worry, he dripped a bit of the water onto the cloths, trying to soak them lose, but in the end he was forced to mutter a "Sorry, Jess," and tug them free. Jess flinched and moaned, his face twisting into a grimace, but he didn't come fully around.

Billy rather relished ripping Cal's shirt apart, tearing it into long strips for bandages. Folding the first over and over into a thick pad, he placed the wadded material over Jess' wound, holding it down to slow the bleeding before rolling the cowboy onto his side. Using another long strip of cloth he wrapped it around his friend's torso to hold another bandage over the exit wound high on Jess' shoulder.

As the old soldier eased Jess onto his back once more, the young man moaned low, grimacing, and then his eyelids fluttered but failed to open completely.

"Easy, son." Billy took another one of the rags and poured some of the bucket's contents on it, soaking the cloth before using it to wipe Jess' sweat-streaked face once, then again.

He was rewarded by seeing another brief glimpse of the blue eyes.

"Jess, think you can drink some of this water?"

Billy scooped water from the bucket, then held the dipper against Jess' lips with his right hand, lifting his friend's head and shoulders with his left. "Drink up now, soldier," he ordered.

Without opening his eyes, Jess first sipped slowly at the water, then drank greedily, emptying the cup.

When he was done, Billy let him lie back.

The eyelids fluttered again, more blue showing this time and managing to fix on Billy's face for a moment. "Thanks," Jess muttered.

"You don't owe me any thanks," the old soldier answered bitterly, full of remorse. It was his fault Jess was here and hurt, his fault for acting the old fool and falling for a scheming, ruthless young woman. It was going to be a long, long time before he could hold his head up like a man again. There's no fool like an old fool, he thought bitterly, trying to bury the pain in his heart.

"Billy."

Jess' low voice brought him out of his dark thoughts. "Yeah, Jess."

"M' sorry 'bout Ellie."

"It wasn't your fault, Jess. There's no one to blame here but me."

The wounded man's words were slow and low. "Might blame her. An' him."

Billy's smile was sorrowful. "She reeled me in like an old, slow trout. I fell for her and all her lies hook, line and sinker."

A thin smile flitted across Jess' lips, his words slow. "Hard… for a man… to resist… a woman… purty as that."

"Pretty but empty, Jess. Empty." Billy shook his head, banishing the bitter thoughts that threatened to overwhelm him. He looked down at his friend. "When's the last time you ate anything, Jess?"

"Yesterday. Mornin'."

"I'm gonna fix us some food."

"Don't worry 'bout me. Ain't hungry."

"I know, but with all the blood you've lost, you know you need to eat to get your strength back."

Jess blinked slowly, fighting to keep his eyes open. "I know," he admitted.

Billy refilled the dipper and got Jess to drink again. "I'll make us something to eat. We'll rest here tonight and get you to a doctor tomorrow, if you can ride by then."

"I'll ride," Jess promised more confidently than he felt.

Pulling the covers back up over Jess' chest, Billy carried Cal's body out of the cabin and around in back of the building, then gently did the same for Ellie's still form. The two of them would, fittingly, rest together in one grave — partners in deceit, now partners in death.

By the time Billy had retrieved his saddle bags and got some food started heating on the stove, Jess was sound asleep, snoring slightly. The old soldier's heart was heavy as he prepared the meal and fixed a plate for his friend.

"Jess." Billy hated to wake the deeply sleeping wounded man, but Jess needed to eat just as much as he needed to rest for his recovery. "Jess," he waved the plate in front of the cowboy's face, hoping the smell of food would help rouse the man. It worked — Jess' eyes opened lazily, like those of a sleepy child, but with an obvious effort he managed to get them wide open and focused.

"Dinner's ready."

"I ain't much hungry."

"Eat anyway, boy," he ordered affectionately. With Billy's help, Jess sat up, back braced against the wall for support.

Billy gave him the plate and Jess ate slowly and automatically, knowing he needed the food as fuel. It formed a heavy lump in his stomach, but he forced himself to chew and swallow. He was really thirsty, though, emptying his water cup three times.

Finally, long before he'd finished half of what was on his plate, he stopped, unable to make himself eat any more, so tired he was sure he couldn't lift the fork to his mouth again even for a month's wages.

Billy helped him lie flat again, and Jess soon drifted off to sleep to soft sounds from outside, the scrape of a shovel through dirt as the sergeant buried his wife and her 'cousin.'

Part Two:

It was late and the cabin was dark. Billy, finding it hard to sleep despite his exhaustion, was dozing in his bedroll on the floor when he heard Jess stir. A bit of moonlight filtered in through the broken window, providing just enough illumination for Billy to see Jess move restlessly on the bed, hissing through his teeth as he tried, and failed, to find a more comfortable position.

"You should be lyin' still," the old sarge chided.

"I'm tryin'. This bunk," Jess shifted again, his voice going hard and tight, "this bunk is hard as rock."

"Shoulder hurtin'?"

"Some." Both of them knew that was a lie — a bullet wound ached like a thousand-pound toothache. Silence returned, just the soft night sounds marring the perfect quiet until Jess spoke again. "I'm sorry about your Pa, Billy."

The old soldier sighed, the sound loud in the quiet of the cabin. "He had a good life, a good long life."

"Never long enough," Jess disagreed knowingly.

There was a long moment of silence. "And I wasn't there when he needed me. I was off chasing Indians in the wrong direction."

Jess recognized that pain. He'd been too young to help his own father, to save him from the Bannister gang, and it had taken Jess a long time to come to grips with what that incident had done to him. He probably didn't really understand it all even yet, but he was pretty sure it had something to do with the way he was always getting tangled up in forlorn causes, why he could never turn his back on a friend who needed his help, no matter the trouble, no matter the odds. Like the friend beside him now.

"Why'd you do it, Billy?" The voice out of the darkness of the bunk was low, but the old soldier couldn't miss the puzzlement there, and the hurt. He'd let Jess down and he knew it.

"I wanted Ellie to have all the good things she'd longed for all her life. And I was afraid that, if I didn't get them for her, she'd leave me for someone who could," he admitted. Someone younger, better looking, smarter and more worldly, all the things he wasn't. Which was, in the end, just what she'd done anyway, he admitted to himself.

"So when I was turned down for the promotion," he shrugged, then realized Jess couldn't see the movement. "As a sergeant, I couldn't afford the way we were living, the way she wanted to live. That hurt, somewhere deep down inside, in a place only she had opened up in me. I'd given my whole life to the Army, 15 years, and in return, I couldn't even provide for my wife." He stopped and shook his head. "I needed her, Jess. I needed to make her proud of me. I needed to take care of her in all the ways I thought she deserved, to make up for her rough start in life. That was all I could think of, day and night, how I could make her happy, make her smile, make sure she kept loving me."

He heard Jess shift on the bed again, heard the sharp intake of breath and the painful "Ahhh" that Jess tried to stop and couldn't quite hold in. "Didn't mean why that. I meant why'd ya' decide to send the money back?"

"I knew all along, the whole time I was takin' that money, I knew what I was doing was wrong, but it was like I was watching someone else do it, someone who couldn't stop himself. And then when I got to the ranch, Ma was so angry. Her words, they stung, but I heard the rightness of them. How could I have ever been fool enough to think she'd live off stolen money? She's a proud woman, always has been.

"By the time I started thinking again, came to my senses and realized what a fool mistake I'd made and that other folks were going to get hurt, like the major, I'd already done it, and I didn't know how to get out of it." Billy sighed. "I realized I couldn't let him take the fall for me — what I'd done was going to stain his record, ruin his career, and I couldn't let that happen, not after all he'd done for me. And then, afterwards, when I heard what Mason did to you, that he'd ambushed you…" Billy paused and shook his head. "You could have been killed. God, Jess, I'm sorry."

"Ain't nothin' that won't heal."

"Well, you won't heal if you keep talking all night. Get some rest, Jess."

Part Three:

Billy made breakfast and watched with deep concern while Jess ate a few forkfuls of grub before giving up and drinking more coffee. The old soldier then went out and tacked up the horses, leading them up close to the cabin's front door. He rolled up their bedrolls and tied them behind their saddles and then went back inside to help Jess.

One close-up look at his friend and Billy had his doubts about the wisdom of this plan. Jess was sitting on the chair by the table, gray-faced, looking as if he'd topple over if Billy so much as looked sideways at him. His face was tight, the muscles along his jaw clenched and pain lines creased his forehead.

"Maybe we should wait another day, Jess, let you rest a bit more…"

"No," Jess insisted stubbornly. "You've got to get back. You help me get on my horse, I can ride," he vowed.

Billy thought back to the days they'd ridden together with the Army. Back then, they'd ride whenever, wherever, however long was needed, pushed themselves beyond all reasonable limits, even slept in the saddle. He knew he couldn't do that anymore, but Jess was still a young man, and he'd always been more stubborn than anyone else Billy knew.

If Jess said he could do something, he'd do it. Or die trying.

And that was what worried Billy.

Part Four:

Despite his confident-sounding statement, Jess wasn't at all sure he could get in the saddle, much less stay there. He felt woozy just sitting on the chair and when Billy helped him to his feet, standing stooped over like he was more stove up than Jonesy with his bad back, his legs were shaking so bad he figured the old soldier would hear his knees knocking. But with Billy's help, he made his way slowly across the room and out to his horse.

He had no strength to jump for the stirrup. Billy had to all but lift him up onto his horse's back, and he bit his lip at the way the pain roared through him at the effort. Jess settled into the saddle, letting his body mold itself to the familiar feel of being on horseback as Billy mounted his horse and reined his mount toward the trail, turning south toward Wyoming.

Rotten as he felt, Jess didn't miss the direction they were traveling. "Thought you said t'other day that the nearest town was 12 miles east."

"It is. But there's no doctor there. We're going south. It's a bit further but we can get to town before nightfall," Billy explained, optimistically. That was if Jess' wound didn't start bleeding again, if Jess could stay on his horse, if Jess didn't pass out.

If Jess was still alive.

Part Five:

Jess clung to his saddle. He didn't know how he stayed there- habit, stubbornness, his own iron will, and probably a great big dollop of luck. Traveler's easy way of moving helped a bunch, too.

His whole world narrowed to the necessity of staying astride his horse. He didn't see the countryside they were passing through, didn't notice the sun moving across the sky, didn't feel the heat of the day or the coolness of the breeze or hear the bull elk bugling high up on the mountainside. His whole purpose for being was to stay aboard his horse. It didn't matter that his shoulder hurt fiercely, or that his head swam dizzyingly or that his muscles felt soft as sand. He swayed, latched his right hand around the saddle horn with a death grip, and rode grimly on.

Over and over again through the long afternoon, Billy watched Jess, marveling at the man's determination.

The sergeant wavered — should he stop and let Jess rest, give him a chance to recover some strength, or push on to get to town and the doctor? Would Jess even make it that far? The man remained atop his horse as if he was glued there, even when his eyes drifted closed and he swayed alarmingly in the saddle. Deciding his friend needed to reach the doctor sooner rather than later, the sergeant pushed on.

Part Six:

When at long last they reached Pine Meadows, Billy asked directions to the doctor's office from a man crossing the street. It was at the far end of town, and as they rode their horses at a weary walk down the dusty street, those last few hundred yards seemed a thousand miles more. Finally pulling up in front of the small house with the sign for Dr. M. Tillman, M.D., Billy slid out of the saddle. He stepped up to the door and knocked, sparing a look back at Jess. The young man was slumped in the saddle, left shoulder sagging markedly, clearly exhausted and in pain, with his right hand locked around the saddle horn, helping him somehow find the will to stay aboard his horse.

Billy was raising his hand to knock again, harder, when the door opened and a middle aged, balding man in a rumpled suit peered out at him.

"My friend's been shot, Doc," Billy announced, waving a hand back at Jess.

"Let's bring him in, then."

The doc beside him, the old soldier walked back to stand beside Jess' horse. "We're here, Jess. Let's get you inside, eh?"

The blue eyes fluttered, and Jess nodded faintly, letting go of the saddle horn, and sliding bonelessly down off the horse. Billy caught him and with the doctor holding the door, he carried Jess inside, placing him gently on the bed.

Jess mumbled but didn't rouse as the doctor examined him and then went to work cleaning the wounds front and back before stitching them, muttering under his breath the whole while about damn fool cowboys who didn't know the risks of waiting far too long to treat a gunshot wound.

Billy sighed with relief as the physician finished his work.

Part Seven:

Jess was unconscious for more than 24 hours. The doctor kept reassuring Billy that the cowboy's heartbeat and breathing sounded good, that sleeping was just what he needed, allowing him to replenish the blood he'd lost and regain his strength. By the next morning, Billy could already see a bit of color returning to Jess' face, and he began to believe the doctor's diagnosis that his friend really would pull through.

It was one huge weight lifted from his over-burdened soul.

Around dusk of that second day, Jess woke, weak, tired and sore but famished. He devoured the bowl of soup the doctor's wife provided, and then he drifted right off again, sleeping soundly through the night.

They stayed in the little town for two more days while Jess regained his strength, sleeping, eating and resting.

Billy had wired Major Stanton, telling him that he was on his way back to the fort as soon as he could leave Jess.

But when Billy announced it was time for him to head out, Jess insisted on going with him, despite the misgivings of the doctor and Billy as well. But Jess wouldn't relent, and so together they rode two more days back to the fort. They travelled slow and easy, taking frequent rest breaks and stopping early each evening, Billy taking care of the camp chores while Jess rested.

Finally, the cluster of buildings at Fort Laramie came into view. Jess couldn't miss the apprehension on the old sarge's face as they rode side by side up to the buildings and dismounted in front of the major's office. Billy stepped down easily, waiting while Jess eased carefully off his mount, favoring his still aching shoulder, the weight of his left arm supported by a sling the doctor had provided.

Inside, the major greeted Jess warmly, his glance at Billy a mixture of concern and anger as he waved the cowboy to a chair but left Billy standing at attention. "How are you, Jess?"

"Good enough, Sir." Jess looked around, making sure the office door was firmly closed. "The, uh, package, arrived safely, did it?"

"Yes, it did," There was no mistaking the relief in the major's voice. Stanton threw a glare toward his errant sergeant, then requested the men tell him the whole story of what had happened. When both Jess and Billy had related everything they knew, the major sighed. "I'm sorry about your wife, Billy…"

The sergeant nodded but said nothing.

"And I'm sorry you got hurt, Jess."

"I've had worse."

Stanton smiled grimly, remembering the Mescalero incident, all those years ago. "I know you have, Jess. Still, I'd like you to let the regimental surgeon take a look at that shoulder."

"I should be gettin' home, Sir."

"Not now, he shouldn't," Billy interjected. "The doctor in Pine Meadows said he needed a week of bedrest before ridin' anywhere."

Stanton raised an eyebrow and looked over at the cowboy. "And yet you rode all the way here?"

Jess, looking only slightly chagrinned, nodded.

Stanton shook his head, then stepped to the door and shouted for his aide. "Mathews! Tell the surgeon to expect a visit from Mr. Harper. See that our guest is assigned a bunk in the officer's quarters and have the cook get him a hot meal from the officer's mess. And have someone stable and feed his and the sergeant's horses."

"Yes, Sir," the aide answered, saluting.

"Thank you, Sir, but really, I don't need…" Jess objected.

Stanton turned back to his friend. "Jess, this is very little repayment for what you've done…."

"Payment isn't needed, Major."

Stanton returned to his desk and sat down in his chair. "I know that, Jess. But you did get hurt helping me, and Billy, get out of a serious jam." The major added. "I wouldn't feel right, letting you ride off on your own, not until you've been medically cleared." He used his imposing command tone. "And I insist."

Jess, too weary to disagree with Stanton though unwilling to admit it, gave in. One night's rest at the Fort wouldn't hurt anything.

"Mathews will escort you over to the hospital, Jess." The major turned to Billy. "And then you and I need to talk."

"You won't be too hard on him, Sir?" Jess asked hopefully.

Stanton shook his head. "No, no, I won't."

Jess stood, suddenly feeling very tired, and without further complaint he followed the major's aide down the walk toward the imposing two-story hospital nearby.

The doctor, a middle-aged man with bristling whiskers, was waiting for him. The physician asked Jess most of the same questions that he'd been asked back in Pine Meadows as he checked the wound, admired the quality of the stitch work done by the old doc back in Montana, and proclaimed Jess needed a decent supper and a good night's sleep.

One night at the fort turned into two, at the surgeon's insistence that his shoulder was far from healed. But the bed was soft and the food, for Army food, was darned good… well, it likely helped that he was eating with Stanton in the officer's mess instead of sharing what the enlisted men were dining on. And the major, taking charge as was his way, had sent a telegram to inform Slim that his ranch hand would be delayed several more days. "So you'll stay a while longer," Stanton had declared, not giving Jess a chance to say no.

Finally, on the third day Jess felt rested and ready to ride. He retrieved Traveler from the stables just after sunrise and made a final stop at the major's office to say goodbye. He knocked on the door and at the answering, "Come in," entered Stanton's office once again.

"You are looking much better, Jess," the officer assessed him with narrowed eyes, "though you're welcome to stay as long as you like. Or permanently," he hinted.

Jess laughed. "No thanks, Major. If I stick around here any longer, I'm afraid you just might persuade me to sign up."

"You'd be welcome," Stanton offered immediately. "Anytime."

Jess waved a hand in the air. "I'm obliged for the offer, Sir, but I've got a job."

"I know." The major patted Jess' good shoulder. "And I appreciate you coming up here, and what you did for Billy, and for me."

Jess looked up at him and nodded. "Anytime, Sir, you know that." He looked over at the sergeant. "Same goes for you, Billy."

The old soldier looked up from his desk at the back of the room and smiled gratefully. "You're sure you're gonna be all right, Jess?" Billy asked, worry for his friend plain on his face. "You really could stay here a few days more," he suggested.

"Nah, I haven't got far to go," Jess smiled, his face still pale but his eyes bright and his voice strong. "And the ride home's always easier."

"That it is," Billy agreed, looking around at the fort before getting up to shake his friend's hand. "I owe you, Jess."

Jess' grin was wide. "You don't owe me nothin', Billy. Heck, we ain't even close to even yet. If it wasn't for you, I'd have never made it out of Mescalero country."

"All the same, Jess…."

"You want to thank someone, thank the Major," Jess suggested.

"You know I will."

"And if you really want to do somethin' for me, stay out of trouble, y'hear? Next time, think things through before you act." Jess grinned. "Think 'em through twice. And then ask the Major what you should do."

Billy lowered his gaze. "You know I will."

"And come visit some time, won't ya'? I'm not hard to find. Everybody around Laramie knows the Sherman Ranch, twelve miles east of town on the stage road."

Billy nodded. "I will, Jess. I'd like to see this place where you're at home."

Jess threw Stanton a salute and then left the office, closing the door firmly behind him. He mounted up and turned Traveler south, toward Laramie and home.

-The End-

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