Author's Note:
Hey, friends! Part Four and the upcoming Part Five include some references from a couple of my previous stories, but don't worry, you won't need to have read them to understand these I'm Fine segments. Just thought I'd mention them in case something rings a bell here for ya, and you wonder where you've come across the concept before.
You'll see something from my "Brotherhood Begun" chapters 6 and 7, where I attempt to reconcile the series' conflicting references to Jess fighting for the Confederacy (The Replacement and other episodes), yet also serving with the Union (Bitter Glory), and still he "never was" "in your army" as he tells General Barton of the U.S. Army in War Hero.
There is also something coming up in Part Five from my "A Time and A Time and Forever" chapter 15. (I took a bit of liberty in slightly adjusting the timeline with that one.)
You'll notice a few bells ringing from a couple of the show's episodes too.
If you ever have any questions, feel free to message me. Thanks for reading.
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Oath of I'm Fine
Part Four
The year: August 1865
Jess Harper's age: 19 years old
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Chapter Ten
His time was almost up. The dadgum war had finally ended in the spring, and Jess Harper's required service to the Union was almost finished too. He thought about it all as he rode across the prairie.
At times he still had trouble believing he was working for the army that he had fought against. The army whose officer had shot him. More than once. The army that had imprisoned him. Chained him. Starved him. Beat him senseless. More than once.
As an eighteen-year-old Rebel soldier from the Deep South, he had been captured by the North and had desperately needed to get out of that Yankee prison camp or he would have died there. And the only way to get out, after two failed escape attempts, was to agree to be galvanized. Galvanization meant pledging loyalty to the United States, swearing to never again take up arms against the Union, and actually joining their army. He could accept the first two conditions, but not the third. He would never become a soldier for the North, because he could never make himself fight against soldiers from the South. He was, after all, a Texan, through and through.
So he had turned down the Union major's first two offers for galvanization. But the third time─and what Major Carlton told him was his last chance─he decided to draw upon his experience playing poker. So he bet everything he had, the only thing he had. His life. He upped the ante and made his own counter offer. He would agree only to be a dispatch rider and scout for them in Indian territory, but would not join their army. He would never be a part of their war effort against the Confederacy. He would die in prison before he'd do that.
And he fully expected to die there. He was downright shocked when the major agreed to his conditions.
They told him he would be assigned to work with a unit out in Texas, for one year, or until the war ended, whichever came later. The Union brass had waived the requirement for enlistment for him, which was a spectacularly unusual accommodation. They had wanted Jess' riding, scouting, and fighting expertise badly. Men with those attributes were desperately needed for the action to advance the country's interests out west, and the Union couldn't spare soldiers from the war being fought east of the Mississippi. The fact that Jess actually was from Texas, and knew the state well, added to his value. So he worked for their army in a kind of hired hand role. He didn't even wear a uniform. And he never saluted. Just touched his fingers to the brim of his hat as an acknowledgment of respect to officers Major Stanton and Sergeant Billy Jacobs.
After months of riding together, battling Indians, and saving each other's lives, they had become good friends. And Jess had learned that being from the North and being from the South really didn't need to make a dadgum bit of difference in whether you got along. Not now. He had left his anger against Yankees behind; well, for the most part. He still held a few grudges, although he thought time would probably whittle those down too. Except for one. Halleck. Only Halleck's death would erase the anguish toward him from Jess' heart, because as commandant of the prison camp, it was Captain Paul Halleck who had ordered the ill treatment of young private Harper and many others.
But he could stick all that on the shelf for a while. It was mid-August now, and when mid-October rolled around, he would be free. Free from his attachment to that U.S. Army unit, free to return to his mission to find and kill Frank Bannister and his gang. Four years had passed since the fire─a year and a half in pursuit of Bannister, a year and a half in the Confederate Army, and nearly one year spent riding with Stanton and Jacobs─but the flame of vengeance for his family burned as hot as ever.
His family. All that was left now was his sister. And since Stanton's unit was currently stationed in the Panhandle, the major had given Jess permission to ride his sturdy army mount, Oak, the thirty miles north from the base camp so he could visit Francie. Jess was very grateful for the trust Major Stanton put in him to return to the unit and not just take off into the Big Open.
Stanton had told him, "We're all tired. But from what I understand, Jess, you haven't had a break of good rest since even before the war. and I know your wounds and imprisonment took a heavy toll on you. Then you've been riding with this unit. Why, you've been under more strain than any of us, and for a longer time. You're plain exhausted, son. In body and mind. I know you to be a man of your word, so you tell me you'll return, and we'll see you back here in three days. Go ahead and visit your sister."
With a large degree of gratitude, Jess had immediately ridden northward. When he had last seen her, Francie told him she was going to be staying with the Bradys. So that's where Jess headed.
Stanton was right. He was tired. Plumb wore out, for an actual fact. The last mission the Stanton unit had been on had been an especially tough one. They were under constant aggression from hostiles. There had not been large battles this time, but a lot of dangerous skirmishes. And it was exhausting. They had been constantly on the move, sleeping little and quickly traversing from place to place throughout the widest part of mid-Texas. As much as Jess loved to ride, he was now deep down bone-tired. He needed a good amount of sleep on a surface other than ground. He needed some nice home-cooked meals. He needed a few days of not having to fight to stay alive. He needed to see his sister. And the Bradys. It was gonna be great to spend some time with them all.
As he rode past the Ebal Harper farm, he noticed that the place had been fixed up and a new name, Larson, was painted on the barn.
Guess Ebal made good on his plan to take his family and join a wagon train to California. Either that or he finally lost the farm to the bank and had to move.
Soon, Jess was up and over the big hill. A few miles later, he road through the gate at the head of the lane to the Brady home. It was surprising, though, to see how the place had changed. Weeds had overtaken the garden. There were no horses in the corral. A section of pasture fence was down and left unrepaired. The glass in a window in the house had been broken, and rather than replaced, was simply boarded up. And no one was around. Frowning with curiosity and concern, he hitched his horse, climbed the porch steps, and knocked on the door.
A gray-haired man of about fifty, whom Jess had never seen before, opened the door and looked the weary dispatch rider up and down. "What can I do for ya, young fella?"
For a moment, Jess was at a loss at seeing the unfamiliar face in the doorway. But he tried to recover quickly.
"Uh… howdy, sir. Well, I'm looking for my sister. I mean, the Bradys. Both, really." Jess looked over the man's shoulder, peering into the living room of the home, hoping to see someone he knew. He looked as confused as he sounded.
"Ain't no Bradys here no more, boy. My name's Castor. I bought the place in late June, and they was already gone then."
Shocked and bewildered, Jess struggled for words. "But… where… where'd they go?" He glanced around the ranch yard, toward the corrals, the barn, anywhere he might see something familiar. A person, a horse… anything that should be there. Trying to keep calm despite his pounding heart, he turned back to the man. "Where's Francie?"
He tried to rein in his emotions. Maybe for some simple reason the Bradys had moved to a different homestead nearby. And surely Francie went with them. No need to worry. Yet.
"I ain't been into town much since I bought the place. Don't know folks around here yet. Francie the sister you mentioned?"
"Yeah."
"Well, there ain't nobody here, son, but just me and my missus and my boys, Homer and Thomas. Like I told ya, them what lived here before was all gone already when I bought the place off'n the property man that held the title."
Feeling like the entire world was flipping upside down, Jess puzzled, "But why? How could they just up and leave?"
"Maybe you'd better come in and sit for a spell, boy. Have a drink with me. You ain't lookin' too steady there."
Jess ignored the invitation and the concern. "Don't you know anything about what happened with the folks that lived here?"
"Well… I do know some." Mr. Castor rubbed his chin and shifted his feet nervously. "I hate to be the one to tell ya this. But the property man said the reason the place was up for sale was because… well… because of death. Heard three folks that lived here… well, they died."
Jess felt like he had been punched in the gut. Castor thought he looked that way too.
"Just sit yourself down here, son." Castor grabbed Jess' arm and urged him down to a seated position on the porch, legs stretched to land his boots on the second step. The older man sat beside him, waiting for the news to settle in the cowboy's mind.
After a while, Castor asked, "You a relative of the family that lived here?"
Jess swallowed hard. "Do you know…" He winced and stopped talking.
"Do I know what?"
"Who… died."
"Just know it was three. Don't know no names."
"Wh… when?"
"Don't know that either. Nor how. Don't know what took their lives."
Jess sat in stunned silence. Mr. Castor worried about the boy. He studied the sudden pallor, the obvious distress.
"Did you come from a long ways off to visit these folks? Or are you from around here?"
Staring at the ground and breathing faster than normal, Jess nodded.
Unclear as to which question the boy's nod answered, Castor suggested, "Now, in case you ain't from around here, you might not know that the closest town is ten miles west of here. But there's a church in that town. You might wanna ride there and talk to the priest. Maybe he'll have some more information that would be of help to ya."
"Yeah." Jess blinked, trying to pull himself together and hang onto the hope that there had been some mistake. Maybe the Bradys and Francie had just moved, and Castor misunderstood the whole situation. "Reckon I better do that." He clambered to his feet, a perplexed look still on his face, mixed with anxiety. He lumbered down the stairs and distractedly mounted Oak with nowhere near his usual grace.
"You steady 'nuff there?"
Jess slowly turned his eyes toward Mr. Castor. "What?"
"You all right, son? You seem kinda… lost."
Lost. Yeah, maybe that was the word for him right now.
"Thanks for your help, mister." Jess rasped and headed his horse west.