"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

18

Jess rode into the relay station as the sun began to sink, tired, but with a sense of satisfaction and the hint of an inner peace, at the end of a long day checking the boundary and counting steers. Today had turned out to be a surprising relief – a day on his own, gifting him with the solitude he needed to begin the healing of his spirit. Now he was slightly better able to cope with the warmth and familiarity of the place he knew in his heart he still longed to call home.

He rode in and found Andy, not hanging on the gate, but industriously brushing down the black stallion who was tethered next to it. "If you make him that smart, we'll have to hide him for fear of rustlers!" he commented as he dropped wearily from the saddle and led Traveller into the barn.

Andy's brow wrinkled in a puzzled frown. Jess was obviously not in the mood to discuss the treasure chest and was concentrating on the horse instead. Andy wanted to fling his arms round him in an ecstatic hug of thanks, but somehow it didn't seem the right time or place. So he just followed him into the barn with the black, asking as he did so, "Has he got a name, Jess?"

A flicker of surprise crossed Jess's face. He had been so preoccupied with other things it had never occurred to him to bother about the horse's name. "No. I just think of him as The Black. D'you think he ought to have a name?"

It was Andy's turn to look surprised. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "In some ways, The Black just seems to suit him."

"Wait till he's settled in," Jess suggested, "then you can decide."

"I can? Yippee!" Andy's excited yell startled the horses and brought Jonesy to the back door, demanding that they stop messing about in the barn and get washed up for supper - pronto.

Supper, as it often did, developed into a review of the day. Conversation over the meal was strictly practical, as Slim extracted a detailed account of the boundaries of the ranch and the state of the stock, as inspected by Jess. Jonesy bit his lip and kept back his irritation because, even after all that had happened, Slim did not let up on the younger man so he could relax over the meal. Andy kept quiet, sensing his brother's concern for the work he could not undertake himself, although he did think Slim ought to know he could rely on Jess by now. He wisely kept this opinion to himself. It did not occur to either of them that this litany might be another way of easing back from pain into security and of restoring the shattered framework of daily life, when other things were still too raw to put into words.

So Jonesy was positively glowering when the meal was over. He drove Slim to rest on the couch in front of the fire and sternly told him to stay there and stop fretting. He'd lighted the fire, not so much because it was cold, but because it just felt more homely, and in his heart he hoped it would warm the chilled self-control that he could still sense somewhere at the centre of Jess.

Jess himself did not sit down, but leant against the mantelpiece, just as he had done at the Travers' place. His eyes were on the flames and he drank the coffee absently, as if his mind was elsewhere. Not still in St Louis, Jonesy devoutly hoped. Jonesy'd spent most of his own time there worrying about Andy and fretting at his own helplessness and then looking after Slim. He had not known of Jess's disguise until the very end, but he'd tried, for Andy's sake to find out all he could about the Sherman household and he'd heard plenty of rumours. More than that, his morning conversation with Andy suggested Jess was still carrying a load of anger about the whole affair.

Presently the young Texan stirred and put down his cup. As he had done in the morning, he went over to the door and buckled on his gun-belt. "I'll do the night-check," he said casually over his shoulder. Then a second thought appeared to occur to him. "And yes, I will check thoroughly and yes, I will make sure what should be locked is locked and no, I won't skip the chickens and if Andy hasn't shut up his critters I'll …" His voice faded into the night as the door closed softly behind him.

Andy flicked a quick grin as Jonesy winked at him. Everyone on the relay station knew that not doing the last check himself was enough to send Slim into a night-time's worry, but there was nothing he could do about it under the circumstances. His compulsion about locking up properly was something Jess had teased him about a hundred times before. Slim was lying with his eyes closed and simply muttered, "You'd better!" in just the mock-fierce tones he usually adopted in response to this.

It was a while before Jess came back – presumably he was being extra thorough, knowing Slim's state of mind. When he did appear again, he did not come right in, but stopped in the doorway, incurring Jonesy's wrath for creating a draught.

"Think you can limp as far as the barn?" he asked Slim, a hint of challenge in his voice.

"I thought you thought I ought to be resting?" was the sharp reply.

"There's something you need to look at."

So they all trooped across the yard, Slim leaning heavily on a stick and with Andy's arm for extra support. Jess didn't look round to see if they were following, but strode ahead and lit one of the stable lanterns. As he lifted it to the hook on the beam, it cast as soft glow across the gold of the straw and the shine of leather harness. It picked out the gleam of soft, dark eyes as the horses turned to see who was disturbing their rest. And it glinted on the chestnut coat and white blaze of the one in the nearest stall.

"Alamo!" Slim nearly fell over in his haste to greet his long-lost mount and was then nearly pushed over by the excited butt of Alamo's head in greeting. It wasn't until he had inspected every inch of the horse and made much of him in no uncertain manner, that he realised Jess and Jonesy had slipped away in the dark and even Andy was just hovering patiently by the door, knowing Slim would need help walking back to the ranch-house.

They made it back in record time.

"Where did you find him?" Slim asked delightedly, almost before he had got over the threshold.

"New Mexico." Jess told him. "That's why it's taken so long to get him back here. The Ranulfhjar brought him up in relays – arrived just after supper."

Slim was grinning from ear to ear. "I thought I'd lost him for good!"

"You nearly did. Cost a king's ransom to prize him away from the trail-boss who bought him."

"I owe you." The look on Slim's face said far more than just his thankfulness over the return of his horse. His eyes flicked briefly to the mantelpiece and the restored pictures there, to his desk and the small items now in their proper place, to the shelf where favourite books were ready to be taken down, to Andy with his precious knife - the one their Pa had given him - in his hand. His voice was ragged as he repeated, "I owe you more –"

"No you don't." Jess cut him short, his tone completely matter-of-fact.

They locked eyes for a moment and in that moment was exchanged the unspoken knowledge of what each of them, without reservation, would do for the other. Then Jess went on, "Besides, it was worth it because of what he did."

"What?"

"He gave me the first clue that that accident of yours was impossible." Slim raised his eyebrows at this and Jess explained: "Alamo's a great horse, can't beat him on most ground, but you know, and so do I, how much he hates really steep slopes. There's no way he'd have gone down the Devil's Leap. It was a lunatic risk on any horse and it wasn't even a starter on one with the good sense of Alamo. Besides, I never marked you down for needing to show off to anyone, let alone a bunch of youngsters you'd only just met." Or a woman was unspoken but understood.

At this point, Jonesy managed to shoo Slim back onto the couch and more or less pushed Jess into the rocking chair. When he was convinced they would both stay put, he went out to refill the coffee jug and returned with it in one hand and the whiskey bottle in the other. He silently plied the younger men with both kinds of drink, reckoning that there were going to be some painful revelations, as well as celebration, before the conversation was over. Andy just curled up quietly on the rug in front of the fire, making himself as inconspicuous as he could.

Slim took a long pull of the whiskey. "They tried to get me to do it," he admitted, "but you're right. Even you, in your most reckless mood, wouldn't have done it unless you had to."

"Darned true," Jess agreed, sounding fractionally more relaxed and like himself. "So what happened when you refused?"

"They jumped me anyway," A brief, painful shadow crossed Slim's face as he continued: "Next thing I knew, I was trussed up in that attic, hearing a lot of sweet-talking from a certain very persuasive lady."

Jess scowled and said, "And when her methods didn't work?"

"I got a lot less sweet persuasion from Bradley's thugs!"

Jess shivered involuntarily, recalling his own experience of exactly what those persuaders could do. But why hadn't they used the obvious weapon in their power? He looked down at Andy, then at Slim and lifted one eyebrow in query. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that Slim would never risk Andy for the sake of the ranch, any more than he would himself.

Slim shook his head slightly and said softly, "That was their card for making everything look above board. No point in damaging it – I overheard them saying so! A nice, normal situation was what suited them - just like the marriage -" He stopped abruptly, visibly gathering himself to tell the rest of the tale He went on bitterly, "When Bradley let up for a bit, she'd come back and ask again. And again. And again!" He paused a little more, dropping his gaze, his eyes focusing on the floor, because his next admission was a hard one: "You told me, a while ago, Jess, that some women are poison and I guess I've tasted the truth of that now!"

The words hung in the air. Everything became very still. When he raised his eyes again, Slim saw that Jess had gone so white under his tan he looked as if he was going to throw up. Slim was utterly taken aback and unsure what had caused this, but he was in no doubt that something had inflicted terrible pain on his friend. He just had no idea what it was or how to help and wisely decided to wait and see what would happen. When Jess needed that help, whatever it might be, he would be there and ready.

After a minute, Jess gave a swiftly controlled shudder. He felt in his shirt pocket and pulled out a battered piece of paper. He unfolded it slowly and smoothed it out so Slim could see the handwriting was his own. A long look passed between them, then Slim gave the slightest of nods and Jess reached out and dropped the letter into the fire. It would be dramatic to say that the last words illuminated by the flames were Catherine's name, but, in fact, the paper burnt with the swiftness of something which had no relevance in the real world.

Jess leaned back in his chair, drew a deep breath and asked: "But persuasion about what? What was the point?"

"They wanted control of this ranch, as part of their smuggling system. They would have killed me there and then, so they could take over in Andy's name and get it that way." He saw Jess's jaw clench at the mere memory and hurried on with his story: "But I told them about the will. I'd made a will myself, you see, not long ago. It was properly witnessed and completely legal, so they had to find and destroy it or lose everything they planned."

"But surely the lawyer would just have given it to them, when -?" Jess still couldn't bring himself to say "when you were dead."

"It wasn't at the lawyers. I hadn't returned it and they didn't know where it was."

"And why would the will stop them?"

"Because I've made special arrangements about my share of the ranch." Slim smiled with profound affection as he looked at the sometime drifter, now an integral part of the Sherman family. He said gently, "It's yours. And I've appointed you as Andy's guardian until he is twenty one. You have full control over everything. So, it wasn't just a question of getting rid of me, they had to find and destroy the will and dispose of you too – and, as you once said, you don't kill easy."

There was another silence. Jess had shut his eyes, as if he was immersed in something too personal to share. When he opened them again, he looked long and hard at Slim, rather like someone who was afraid they were dreaming. But he just asked: "So where was the will, if they couldn't find it?"

"In the obvious place." Slim rose painfully from the couch, ignoring the fact that Jess had sprung out of the rocking-chair in an effort to stop him. He limped over to the fireplace and removed the false stone. He slid his fingers into the cavity and drew out the envelope addressed to him which Jess had left lying there the night he was forced to leave.

"But, of course, only family know about the hiding place." Slim handed the envelope to Jess with another encouraging smile. "It's all here. So all I had to do was to refuse to tell them where it was and they had to keep me alive!"

Jess took the envelope in silence, walked over to the table and laid it down as if he was handling something made of the most fragile glass. He did not make any attempt to open it, just leaned there, staring at it. The muscles across his shoulders and down his forearms were unbelievably tense. When Slim moved quietly to join him, he turned in one of his lightning moves and said with unexpected savagery: "So it was all down to me?"

"What was?"

"All this." Jess reached out and laid his hand over the bruises and cuts still marking Slim's face. "All because they couldn't find me and kill me. So they had to take the slow way of killing you. It's my fault!"

"Your fault? Why, you saved my life twice over, you idiot!" Slim didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He wanted to fling his arms round his friend, his partner, in a reassuring bear-hug, but he did not, not yet. He sensed that what had happened was too painful and the outcome still too fragile for anything of the kind. He just took Jess by the shoulders and, as he had so often done, shook him - but gently this time. "Do you understand? Twice! First by working out what was going on and finding me. Second because, if I didn't trusted you utterly, didn't know that there was nothing on this earth you wouldn't do to take care of Andy – and of me - know that you would die to save us, I'd never have made my will and I'd be dead, right now."

He heard Jess's breath draw in harshly almost like a sob, as he dropped his eyes and half turned his face away, a sure sign, Slim knew of old, that he was struggling to control some powerful emotion. He did not take his own gaze away from the averted face, across which the cruelty, pain and grief of the last weeks were carved so harshly. Jess looked tougher and grimmer than he had ever done, even when he had first arrived at the relay station. Slim could only begin to guess at what the events in St. Louis had cost him. It was going to take time and care and patience to heal such unseen injuries and Slim would give all he had to do so.

It was Andy who remembered the promise at the heart of the matter. He could see that Jess was too strung up for any real physical contact, but he got up off the hearthrug where he had been lying and put his hand on his friend's – no, more than that, his guardian's – arm and said firmly: "You've finished what you set out to do, Jess."

There was another indrawn breath before Jess said softly, almost to himself, "Yeah – it's finished." He paused and seemed to be thinking; then, for the first time, they heard the gravelly Texan drawl really return to his voice: "Guess what I'm needin' right now is a cigarette!"

It was just an excuse and they all knew it, but it got him out of the house, into the cool, open yard and the space he needed. He stood right in the middle of the yard, his head tilted to look at the thick and blazing stars. He stood quite still, thinking. Jess was never one to harbour vain regrets about the past or to agonise about alternative actions he could have taken. He faced his own responsibilities squarely and, in the light of them, he needed to sort out the facts of what had happened from the turmoil of released emotions.

I trust you utterly. If only he had opened that letter, none of this need have happened. He would have had the legal right to challenge what was being done to Andy. And how far would that have got him? Even if he had not taken off in a fit of angry impetuosity to rescue Andy from St. Louis – even if he had stayed calm and let the lawyers handle it - his own days would have been numbered, he was quite sure of it. The ramifications of the plot were so great he would have been overwhelmingly out-gunned. Not that long odds had ever made a difference to him, but he was highly realistic in estimating them and knew that his chances of bringing off the kind of ending they had actually achieved would have been extremely limited. As it was, it was Bradley's thugs who had driven him into hiding and so ironically prevented them from finding him when the order came to kill. It would have been totally different, if he had opened the letter. But he had not known what was in it and it was sealed and addressed to Slim. There was no way he would have opened it without authorisation of some kind. So it had remained hidden and unopened, and yet what was in it had ultimately saved Slim. And, equally important, what was in it was what really mattered: I trust you utterly.

He turned and made his way slowly over to the barn and into the soft, quiet, sweet-scented darkness. He walked into Traveller's stall and the bay turned to greet him with a soft snort and a nudge. Jess flung an arm round the strong neck and leaned his head into the hollow of the horse's shoulder. And then, at last, he allowed himself to weep.

Acknowledgement: For all chapters: 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.

Reviews of revised version very welcome. Thank you to everyone who has already provided encouraging and very helpful feedback on this story.

And yes, I did originally intend to kill Slim off and write a nice, romantic piece about Jess and Catherine. But as the story developed, I found that I simply could not do that to Jess or to myself as a writer or to Slim (who, as a character, I have come to love and respect pretty well as much as Jess) or, most important, to all you readers.

This part of the story is, as Jess says, "finished". Or is it? If there is a follow-on, it will probably take a year complete, so please don't hold your breath!