"The ache for home lives in all of us,

the safe place where we can go as we are

and not be questioned."

Maya Angelou

RETURN

17

Jess stood motionless, frozen beyond even the numbness of grief, leaning his head against the cold glass of the locked door. He felt as if, in that very instant, it had actually been slammed, locked, barred and bolted in his face – an impassable barrier, separating not just his body, but his heart, his spirit, from those he had striven so hard to rescue and restore.

Then, very slowly, common sense reasserted itself. After all that had happened, it made sense to change the locks and reinforce the security which had been so violently breached. All the same, it was a blow he could have done without after the long ride from Cheyenne and the necessary visit to the Travers. Practicality suggested he should go back and find his bedroll and make himself comfortable in the hayloft for the night, but, in the immediacy of the shock, it was too much. He shuffled over to the familiar rocking chair on the porch and slumped into it.

Rest at last.

# # # # #

It was Jonesy who found him when he rose in the cold twilight before dawn. The lean figure was curled uncomfortably into the chair, his dark head pillowed on his arm and his legs hitched under him as if he was prepared to jump into action. Jonesy stood looking down at him, his normally shrewd expression transformed by a softness which he would never have let Jess see when he was awake. He was remembering the night he had had to share the news of Slim's death with him and remembering too, in the time before he himself had left for St Louis, the iron control with which Jess had ridden his emotions.

The sleeping position was uncomfortable and the sleeper's rest uneasy. As Jonesy watched over him, he stirred restlessly and began to mutter in his sleep - painful, disjointed words: "Let go … too hard … letter … never meant … living lie … betrayed you … just trash … can't trust me … got to go … got to move on …"

Jonesy drew in a sharp breath. Then he turned and stumped back to the kitchen and set in motion some preparations which had nothing to do with breakfast.

After a considerable while boiling water, he went back to the porch. Waking a sleeping gunman was not a task to be undertaken lightly or without due caution. He settled for a direct approach and snapped in his best 'you young fellers don't know how to behave' style: "Wake up, you stupid Texan! Just what in tarnation d'you think y' doin' sleepin' on the porch? Ain't you got a bed of y' own round here to get into?"

Jess's eyes dragged open stickily and he groaned. "Hell! I'll never move again!"

"Yes, you will!" the old man assured him. "Now you git right out of that chair and into the bath, before I have t'drag y' there and wash y' m'self!"

This threat roused Jess to his feet and so into the welcome warmth and relaxation of a very full bath of steaming water which Jonesy had spent so much time creating in front of the kitchen stove.

Jonesy shut the door on him and set about finding some clean clothes to replace the discarded ones he had scooped up from the floor. Jess's instruction about these had disconcerted him considerably. They were expensive, fine-quality clothes. Jess had simply ordered: "Burn them!" Jonesy shook his head and wondered how you went about doing any such thing. They would certainly choke up the stove, so he settled for tossing them into the cupboard where he kept odds and ends of old clothes and sheets to be torn up and used as rags. That would have to do for the moment.

He crept back into the bunkroom and rummaged through the drawers, seeking some clean replacements amongst Jess's sparse wardrobe which he had abandoned when he left.

"Hey, Jonesy, those are Jess's things!" Andy's surprised voice said behind him. Then, with sudden hope, "Is he back?"

"Yeah, he's back," Jonesy admitted and caught Andy by his night-shirt as he made to leap out of bed. "Andy, I'm gonna ask you somethin' hard."

The boy looked at him with a troubled expression. He thought and said, "Like Cal did – one hug and keep out from under his feet?"

"Yeah – somethin' like that," Jonesy admitted, trying to find a reason which would prevent Andy's enthusiasm making things more difficult for Jess than he sensed they already were. "You remember when Jess first came, Andy? Remember how wary he was, how uncertain he was really welcome? How ready he was to take off into the wild again?"

"Yes. Is it like that now?" Andy looked horrified, as always, at the thought that Jess might leave.

"A bit," Jonesy told him. "I guess we've all had time to work through our feelin's and get over the shock of everythin', but Jess hasn't, not till now. Just go easy, huh? Let him sort himself out."

After only a little recollection, Andy said: "He was like a stranger the night he rescued us – he was so violent about what happened to Slim!" His face was pale as he remembered the flash of the knives in Jess's hands. "He would have killed that man, the agent, I know he would, if Slim hadn't stopped him. I've never ever seen him angry like that before."

"He was angry about what happened to you too," Jonesy told him. "It was the first thing he thought of – whether they would take care of you. That was what he came to St. Louis to find out. He never let up thinkin' about you an' I guess it must have hit him so hard when he couldn't have you know he was there all along. When he found out what was goin' on – that Slim was a prisoner and bein' hurt real bad - well, d'you wonder he was angry?"

"But why would it make him want –?" Andy started to protest but stopped as, with perception beyond his years, he answered his own question, "When he gets so angry, he feels he's a danger to the rest of us and he thinks we'd be safer if he was gone."

"But this time, he ain't gone, he's come home," Jonesy pointed out. "If we let him be a while, he'll realise that's where he is. Then we can all git on with business as usual." He ruffled Andy's hair, just as Jess often did, and said, "Now git dressed and I'll deliver these here clothes. The bath water'll be luke-warm and I don't need a cold, wet, ornery Jess Harper takin' up all the space in my kitchen!"

Andy grinned a little at this picture and began to comply hastily but quietly. Slim was still sleeping deeply in the other bed, oblivious to the further ramifications caused by his reported demise and rescue. Andy looked down at him closely. The wounds and bruises were beginning to heal, but he still looked pretty bad and Andy hoped the sight of him wouldn't make Jess go into that cold, white fury again. He shivered, for the first time realising what it was to be frightened by someone you love. Then he thought of all Jess had done to free them both. He did not know the full story, yet, but in the night of the rescue he had sensed something of the price. His introspection did not, however, last long: right now, whatever might have happened, a growing boy's first thoughts on getting up were of breakfast.

# # # # #

Some time later, as he and Jonesy and Jess were finishing the said breakfast, the bunkroom door opened and Slim limped painfully into the living room. There was a crash of an over-turning chair as Jess leapt to his feet and growled in surprise: "What d'you think you're doing, walking about!"

"My ribs are broken, not my legs!" Slim snapped back.

Jess glared at him with more than his usual level of early morning truculence, as he picked up the chair and slammed it under the table. "No-one pounded any sense into your rock hard head yet, then? You're supposed to be healing up, resting!"

"I am resting," Slim told him. He pulled out the fourth chair and sat down. "I'm having a nice long rest watching you get on with all the work around here."

"Tell me something new!" Jess retorted as he reached for his cup and finished off his third coffee, still standing ready for action. The coffee obviously did not have its usual pacifying effect, since he went on glowering at Slim. "I suppose you want miles of boundary fence checking and all the stock counted?"

"I'm sure you can fit such a little task into the morning. I'll think of something else for you to do this afternoon."

Jess was already at the door and fastening on his gun-belt for the first time in what seemed like eternity. He picked up the familiar black hat, which, with his gun-belt, Vin had sent home with Slim and Andy. He said over his shoulder, "Fix me some food, will you please, Jonesy?" and then to Andy, "Come over to the barn when you've finished in here, Tiger. I've got something to show you."

As the door closed behind him, Andy let out a breath which was half sigh and half laugh. "Does that count as letting him be, Jonesy?"

"It counts as letting him be normal," Slim commented. "You know what he's like at breakfast!"

Andy and Jonesy exchanged glances. It was not at all what they had expected in the first encounter between these two friends. Jonesy, however, was shrewd enough to work out that Jess would hate to be thanked and Slim would instinctively know it. He figured that sparring half-jokingly about the work-load was something they did often enough for it to be part and parcel of a return to the familiar flow of life on the ranch. Andy was trusting enough to believe 'business as usual' meant just what it said.

All the same, things didn't feel quite normal. Jess looked different, although the moustache had gone and his eyes were once again deep, bright blue and his hair was the same unruly tumble of dark curls, roughly trimmed into some sort of order by Jonesy as a condition of being allowed to eat breakfast. But his face was still hard-carved and cold, with no sign of his ready sense of humour and no inkling that he ever thought of fun. He seemed to be tightly controlling some feeling inside, with the same strength which he might use to control a rebellious horse. And it wasn't until later, running over the conversation in his mind, that Andy also realised how different Jess's voice sounded – kind of hard and flat, without the soft rasp of the Texan accent. He wondered about this as he helped Jonesy, but decided it was one of the things to let be.

When he had finished his indoor chores, Andy ran over to the barn and found Jess's return had meant a considerable increase in efficiency and an equal reduction in the tasks he and Jonesy had been coping with. The whole place seemed to have recovered its stability and sense of security. There was evidence of determined exertion in restoring order and routine. Although there had been no time for Jess to complete all the necessary work, the stalls looked somehow neater, the harness more polished and the horses better groomed. The latter were definitely pleased to see Jess again and Andy heartily agreed with them.

"Hey, Jess, it's real good to have you back. You've done half the work already!"

"It's what I'm paid for!" Jess retorted, before he could stop himself. Almost instantly he recognised that this was uncalled-for, even if he had been speaking to Slim when they were bickering amicably over the work-load. He was swift to make amends and ruffled Andy's hair: "Come over here, Tiger."

He led the way to where his three horses were stalled. Andy immediately made much of Traveller, then turned his attention to the other two.

"What do you think of him?" Jess slipped a bridle onto the black, backed him out of his stall and led him out into the yard.

"Wow!" Andy knew good horse-flesh when he saw it. The black stallion was definitely a superb addition to their stock.

"I figured if we might get some classy foals next year if we let him run with our herd," Jess commented. The horse dealing side of the ranch was largely his responsibility, since Slim much preferred to concentrate on the cattle. "He's had a long journey, so we'll put him out in the south paddock today."

"Did you ride him all the way from St. Louis?"

"No – got him on the train to Denver and then to Cheyenne. Rode the rest of the way." Jess bent down and ran a hand over the horse's legs as he said: "He could do with a rest. He's not as tough as a range horse, but he'll learn." He looked up at his young friend and asked: "Will you keep an eye on him while I'm checking those darned fences?"

"Sure!" Andy's enthusiasm was obvious.

"Up you go, then!" Jess gave him a leg-up onto the bare back and handed him the reins. "He's dying to get at that grass, so you take him down."

"Yeah!" There was no doubting Andy's enthusiasm.

"And Andy?"

"Yeah?"

"You ever wanted to find buried treasure?"

Andy's eyes lit up. "Oh yeah!"

The very slightest glint of amusement touched Jess's own eyes at this verbally limited, but fervent, response. He issued some instructions: "When you've finished putting him out, saddle up Sparks and take a spade with you. Try under the Mother Star tree."

He turned away, entrusting Andy with both tasks and not waiting to see if he could manage the stallion. "I'll see you when I get back this evening."

# # # # #

When the black stallion had gone tearing round the pasture and indulged in a luxurious roll, Andy caught his own horse and took him back to the yard. It did not take him long to saddle up and ride the narrow, twisting path which led up on to the ridge behind the ranch house. You could get there quicker on foot, even in deep snow, but Jess had specifically said to take his horse. It must be big treasure.

Andy smiled to himself as he recalled how he and Jess had scrambled up there one Christmas, into the awesome splendour of the moonlit drifts. It had been then Jess had told him the name of the brightest star, while they were under the tree with the mistletoe they had come to collect. It had been a special place for him ever since and he sometimes came up on his own, just to sit quietly and think.

Now, however, he was intrigued to find out what Jess meant. It made up for having to carry something as awkward as a spade when riding a horse. Reaching the edge of the clearing, he dismounted and left Sparks to stand, while he examined the ground under the tree.

Sure enough, there were faint signs that the ground had been disturbed, although the turf had been very carefully replaced and you would hardly have noticed unless you had particularly been looking for something buried. There didn't seem much likelihood that anyone would, for only Andy and Jess had any reason to distinguish this particular tree from thousands of others.

Spitting on his hands, Andy set to and wielded the spade with energy and determination. Nonetheless, he was careful to pile up the earth so that it could be returned later to the hole and the ground would suffer as little as possible. He, however, soon found he was suffering from blisters; he remembered with a groan that Slim and Jess invariably wore gloves when they were working. He went on doggedly until, after some time, the spade thudded into something hollow that emitted an encouraging 'thunk!'

Andy hauled and worried at the object until he had unearthed a small metal chest – exactly the kind he had always imagined would contain treasure. He sat back on his heels and considered how and when the chest had got there. If Jess wanted him to dig it up, then it must contain something precious to Andy and perhaps to Slim. If Jess knew where it was, he must have buried it or seen someone else do so. It didn't seem likely that anyone else would come to a place which only the two of them knew about and could identify. So Jess had buried the treasure for Andy. If Jess had hidden it, it was really important. And he must have wanted Andy to find it sooner or later.

Despite these guesses and his understandable excitement, Andy was not tempted to open his treasure at once. Jess could have just shown him where it was, but he had chosen not to do so. He clearly intended Andy to find the chest and take it back to the ranch, hence telling him to take his horse. So he didn't want to be there when Andy opened it, but he did want him to take it home.

Home had not been quite the same since their return. Having strangers living in your home is upsetting to say the least. The place felt invaded, disturbed. This was not just because of the kind of men who had taken over, but because familiar things were in the wrong places, pushed into storage or dumped in the outbuildings. It was almost as if someone had deliberately wanted to cause confusion and uncertainty. Some personal items Andy and Jonesy had not even managed to locate in the week they'd been home, but they had been too busy keeping the relay station running for any concentrated search.

Andy was willing to bet that some of the missing things were in the chest. And if so, he wanted to unpack it quietly with Slim and share this treasure that had been rescued for them before Jess ever knew the terrible circumstances in which they had been trapped. He did not understand why Jess would have arranged to be out of the house when this happened but, with his usual sensitivity, decided to wait and see how he would behave in the evening.

He carefully filled in the hole, replaced the turf, loaded the chest onto Sparks and made a very thankful and jubilant return home.

# # # # #

Jess sat utterly still on Traveller and watched Andy until he was out of sight.

He did not move for many long minutes after this. He could not have moved if he had tried. He was not there in the concealing shade of the trees, but, in himself, was struggling again with the necessity of burying the chest under the cover of the darkness of night. He could still feel the icy numbness gripping his heart, the blackness of his own mind and the cold drive of his will. Although he wanted Andy and Slim to have the precious things he had saved for them, he could not bear to see the objects unpacked – the memory was too full of anguish. Even right at the moment they had been unearthed, it seemed scarcely possible that his worst fears had not been true and that everyone he loved had been safely restored. He was back in the depths of the terrifying emptiness and desolation which he had not been able to share with anyone, then or since. He simply could not bring himself to communicate the actions and situations which his overwhelming and harrowing compulsion had driven him into. Nor to express the subtle sense of betrayal implicit in these, which had so wounded his true spirit. Perhaps he never would.

But normality in itself brings healing. Presently he sighed and urged Traveller onto the upward trail. He had work to do. Quiet, routine work, to be completed thoroughly and efficiently. A long day in the saddle, riding the fences. And a weary return to a restored home in the cool of the evening.

It was enough.