Wouldn't it have been so grand if he could have found a way to get to his feet? And wouldn't it have been amazing if Tilbit was actually there to help him and not keep him prisoner in the cabin.
Neither was true, Jess knew. He understood neither was true and as his father tried to press his affections on him, Jess grew irritated. Mostly he had spent his days… or day he never was quite sure… in a very deep troubled sleep. Bu every time he came awake there was Tilbit hovering over his face. He'd grin almost always, in the most annoying way, and proceed to talk to Jess for hours on end about things Jess neither understood nor cared about.
When he got his chance to speak he would groan about Slim, trying to get his torturer to understand that his partner really needed him. Jefferson ignored him. Would continue to ignore him and the longer it went on…
Harper hit him. It wasn't as hard as Jess had wanted, and the moment he did it he regretted it. But not because Tilbit fell from his stool, (more out of shock then anything), hitting his head. No that actually brought some amount of pleasure. However, it brought a great deal of pain, and he had jerked himself up to hit him, falling back on his shoulder, half out of bed.
It was a very awkward position, and Jess squeezed closed his eyes striving to pull his other arm out from under him. He had gone with the swing of his arm when hitting Jefferson, but hadn't had the strength to stop so…
Tilbit uttered and oath rubbing his chin. His eyes flashed with a crazed anger and he filled his big hands with the font of Jess' shirt slamming him against the wall. Jess cried in pain his head flopping lazily forward as limply he tugged at Tilbit's sleeve.
"What's gotten into you, boy?" Tilbit snapped bitterly, and jerked Jess about so his head would flop up.
"You're looking at the wrong boy." Jess snapped in return, pushing away at Jefferson. "And I'm not staying to fulfill your fantasy filled dream."
That look again. The look he had seen cross Tilbit's face a hundred times since being there, slammed across the old man's face again.
"Don't talk so Jess…" he whispered. "What's gotten into you…?"
"That's about the only thing you have right!" Jess continued, still fighting Tilbit. "And the second I can walk, I'll disappear so fast you won't be able to keep your head from swimming!"
From a slow lost look, to anger, Tilbit faded. In a second he was dragging Jess for the door and to the howling wind. Through the snow and dirt he drug to the barn and across the floor.
Stunned Harper couldn't get his brain to work fast enough. It was too late, by the time he got his mind to stop exploding in pain, and his legs to actually move again, he was trussed up like a hog and tossed in an empty stall.
"You ain't never leavin' me boy. You ain't never goin' nowhere again." He shook Jess heartily, rattling what sense was left and pushed him back. Shaking his head Jefferson rose looking down at his boy.
Jess shivered from head to toe. Not with cold, although he was sure it would set in soon, but pain. He knew the hole had opened again and had started to bleed, he could feel the blood roll slowly down his back.
"Crazy boy." Jefferson mumbled rubbing a hand over his face. "Always did have a mind of your own."
Wearily, he slip/stumbled from the room, walking on legs that seemed made of jelly. The barn door opened letting in a flood of a freezing wind and closed blocking out most of the snow.
Jess shivered as it opened and pulled himself into a ball when it closed. For moments he lay there shivering biting his lip and struggling to get it together. The next he was kicking out with his tied legs and rolling onto his back, letting out and cry of pain, anger, irritation and total defeat.
Rolling onto his side he laughed bitterly as water ran from his eyes.
"Right now would be a good time for you to show up, pard…" His face screwed up and he leaning into the ground. "I'd…" slowly his breath huffed from his lips and his eyes grew hazy. "I'd even forgo the teasin'…"
His eyes closed exhausted and Jess gave to the feel of defeat, letting his mind drift away. Away to happier days, to greener pastures and to Slim, Daisy and Mike. They'd never forget to come back for him… not ever.
….
Slim Sherman shuddered. His eyes flew open and went in and out as he tried to focus on the fire. His head lifted off his saddle, his cockeyed hat slipping to the ground with his blanket falling away. He rubbed his eyes, carefully ran a hand over his head and stood, using his rifle as a support.
With the same hazy look in his blue eyes as the day before, he walked from the cave reins in hand and paused to blink at the blinding sun. He had slept half the day away. Half the day gone. Angry with himself he stepped into a stirrup and after a struggle swung into it.
"Whoa boy," he whispered softly, and slid his rifle into its sheath.
He had completely lost the trail, the wind blowing out his own tracks from the night before. With a sigh he turned Alamo in the general direction he had been ridding earlier and headed off. Stubborn.
In the saddle he rode for a while, and then slipped form it and walked for a while giving Alamo a rest and picking out a better trail. He thought he had once caught the scent of wood smoke dancing on the wind, and legs turned that way. Could have been anything, could have been nothing, but Jess needed him, and that was all Slim needed to keep going. Besides, no one, but a crazy person, would be up in this country at this time of year.