Chapter Forty-three

The sun was sinking toward the horizon when Slim arrived back at the house. Andy and Jonesy had already eaten, and Jonesy had kept food warm for the two cowboys he assumed would be riding in together. When Slim took care of Alamo and came into the kitchen alone, the old man was puzzled.

"That Texas scalawag still camping out there with the herd?"

"No."

Slim's terse response gave a hint that there was to be no discussion about Jess right now. Jonesy handed him a plate, and he sat down at the small kitchen table rather than the larger one in the main room.

The obviously angry rancher shoved a bite of mulligan into his mouth. "Where's Andy?"

"He'll be riding in soon. I sent him to check the apple trees over the hill. The ones here are about picked clean. Thought maybe there's more coming on over there. Told him to be home before sundown." Jonesy studied Slim and tried to discern how much to push for more information.

"Should I keep a plate warm for Jess? He following after ya?"

"No."

Slim suddenly stood up, leaving most of his food on the plate. He went to the cupboard, grabbed a gunnysack from where they were kept, and disappeared into the bunkroom. Jonesy stood beside the small table, staring at the closed bunkroom door and wondering what in the world was going on with all the stomping around and slamming of drawers.

After a couple of minutes, Slim reemerged from the bunkroom with the gunnysack containing something, though not much. He set the sack on the chair by his desk, made a notation in his ledger, counted out some bills, and put them in an envelope that he shoved into the bag. Then he scooped it up and started for the front door.

Jonesy had had enough.

"Now hold on there a minute! You get yourself right back in here, Slim Sherman, and sit down. Finish your supper and tell me what's going through that mind of yours to bring about such actions."

Slim huffed out a breath. He joined Jonesy at the table, setting the sack down on the floor. He picked up a slice of bread and swiped it through the gravy.

"It's Jess."

"Well, a' course I could tell that. What about him?"

"I found him, Jonesy. At the west line shack. Drunk as all get out."

Jonesy's eyebrows hiked up in surprise. "Why, that boy never seemed to be that kind."

"He isn't anything he seemed to be. He hasn't done a lick of work since I've been gone. Except some half-hearted attempt at fixing a fence that left it in worse shape than before. He's just been drinking."

Slim went on to rail about Jess, detailing for Jonesy all that he had discovered and everything that had happened between him and his former ranch hand, former friend.

"We should have known he was hiding something, Jonesy. Why else would he never talk about himself, his past, his family?"

Jonesy leaned back in his chair. "Well, it's hard to know why a man won't tell about his life. Could be hiding something. Or… could be that it's just too blamed painful to talk about."

Slim glared. "Why are you defending him?"

"Not saying I am. But it does sound like maybe somebody ought to. Doesn't appear that the boy offered any defense of his own self." Jonesy crossed his arms over his chest. "Did it occur to you to wonder why?"

Slim just scowled.

Jonesy waited. When Slim simply returned to eating, the old man asked calmly. "Did you fire him?"

"You bet I did. Told him to be gone in the morning." Slim motioned at the gunnysack. "I'm taking his stuff to him yet tonight. Gonna be a full moon and clear skies for riding over there. I'll be back well before before dawn."

"Well, you'd best be careful about how you handle things with your brother. There's something bothering him. I don't know what, but he sure hasn't been himself these last few days."

Jonesy got the coffee pot, poured another cup for Slim as he finished his meal, and returned the pot to the stove. Taking a small plate from the cupboard, he cut a piece from the shoo-fly pie he had baked that afternoon, hoping the sweetness of the dessert would counter Slim's sour mood. "So… What are you gonna tell Andy?"

"Tell me about what?"

With their conversation, they had not heard Andy walk his horse into the ranch yard and tie up at the hitching rail. And neither Slim, with his back to the main room, nor Jonesy, rummaging around the kitchen, had seen or heard him quietly come in through the front door.

Slim sighed. He had hoped to put this off until morning. But there was no way to avoid the conversation now. "Sit down, Andy."

Andy took a seat at the table, and Jonesy returned to his chair.

"I know you'll be disappointed to hear this, but Jess isn't working here anymore. He's leaving Laramie."

Andy's eyes flew wide and his mouth dropped open. "No! W-why? Why would he do that?"

Slim hesitated. "He said to tell you he doesn't want to do any ranching anymore. He's riding out."

"Where is he? We have to talk him out of this! We have to make him stay! Is he in the barn now?"

"He's not here. As far as you're concerned, he's already gone."

Now Andy wasn't just scared about Jess leaving; he was furious with Slim, feeling he was somehow to blame.

"It's not true!" he shouted. "Jess wouldn't just ride off without telling me goodbye. You're lying, Slim!"

"Don't you talk to me like that!"

"Then tell me everything!"

Jonesy thought it time to intervene. "Now just settle down, the both of ya. Slim, maybe it's best if you tell him a bit more of what you found out."

"All right. You want the full truth, Andy? Here it is. Jess has been neglecting his duties here. The only work he's done in the past few days was a lousy attempt at a fence repair. I found him lazing around the west line cabin, reeking of whiskey. He's just been drinking for three days. That's the kind of man he really is. I can't put up with that. I had to let him go."

"Oh no… no…" Andy shook his head, a stricken look on his face. He couldn't believe it had come to this. Slim had fired Jess! Because of him.

Seeing Andy's devastation, Slim felt remorseful for telling him the way he did. He should have made sure he himself was calmed down before breaking the news. Feeling a need to sooth his little brother, he said, "Look, Andy, it'll be all right. The three of us—you and Jonesy and me—we can do what we've always done. We'll get by okay. Don't worry about anything. We're fine."

As soon as those last two words left his mouth, Slim regretted uttering them. They landed like a blow to the heart for of all three of them, reminding them of Jess' constant claim. He felt the hurt himself, and he saw Jonesy bite his lip, a sadness overtaking his face. But it was Andy's brown eyes, raised in desperation to meet his own blue, that pierced Slim's very soul.

"I'm sorry, Andy."

Slim couldn't have known the thoughts and feelings overwhelming his little brother, grief over the loss of Jess and guilt for the problems he himself had caused, culminating in one thought. I'm the one who's sorry. This is all my fault.

Andy didn't know what to do. For the past couple of fretful days and restless nights, he had been going over all of it in his mind. The burden was weighing heavy on his twelve-year-old shoulders. Jess had ordered him not to say anything. Several times. And he had agreed to go along with Jess' plan. If he told any of what happened, it would mean he was breaking his word to Jess. Slim had always told him a man's word is his bond. And if there was one man in the world Andy didn't want to go back on his word to, one man he didn't want to let down, it was Jess. Andy wanted to do what Jess told him. But he had never expected things to turn out like this. Slim had based firing Jess on completely false reasoning. Because of what he didn't know. He needed to hear the truth.

Maybe breaking my word is bad. And maybe Jess will be disappointed in me. But I can't let Slim believe he's that kind of man. I have to make this right. I have to be strong like Jess.

Andy decided it was time to grow up some. Be a man. Face up to his mistakes and his decisions. Including the one right now—to tell the truth. He took a deep breath.

"Jess isn't lazy, Slim. And he's not drunk."

Slim pursed his lips. Of course Andy would defend Jess. "How would you know anything about it?"

Trying to overcome the quiver in his voice, Andy looked his brother in the eye. "It's his hand. His left hand is hurt bad. He can't even use it. He's in awful pain." He glanced back and forth, from Slim to Jonesy. "And the alcohol… he wasn't drinking it. He was using it to doctor his hand."

Frowns furrowed both men's foreheads. Slim recalled that towel that was draped over Jess' left hand. During the entire time Slim was at the line shack, he had never removed it. Was he hiding an injury?

"Andy, what are you saying? What would make you think such a thing?" Jonesy asked.

"I… I saw his hand, Jonesy. It's a mess. And it's hurting him so bad."

"Well why wouldn't he tell me that?" Slim's anger at Jess began to dissipate, replaced by total bewilderment. "Do you know how he hurt it?"

Andy knew it was time for him to take responsibility and admit what he had done. But in reliving how he had hurt Jess, he couldn't stop the tears from forming.

"He didn't hurt it, Slim. It was me. I hurt Jess' hand. And that's why he didn't tell you. He's been protecting me. He didn't want to be here and have to lie to you about how his hand got hurt. I suppose he figured if he did, I would just feel worse and look all the guiltier around you. But he couldn't tell the truth either. So he left for a while. He just hoped it would heal enough for him to be able to put a glove on it in a few days, and nobody would ever know what happened."

Slim curiously watched his brother's distraught expression. "What did happen?"

Wiping his cheeks when he couldn't prevent some of his tears from spilling from his eyes, Andy confessed the details of the entire incident with the gun. He told them of Jess' plan to cover for him so he wouldn't lose Chief. He apologized over and over. When he finished, he was panting breaths to keep from sobbing.

Slim stood up and laid a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder. "We'll talk about all of this when I get back, Andy." He put his hat on and headed for the door.

Jonesy followed him. "Where are you going?"

"To get Jess, of course."

"You know where he is?" Andy sprung to his feet, eyes brightening.

"Yeah, I do," Slim assured. Then he turned to Jonesy.

"I'm gonna go saddle up again. I'll let Alamo rest and take Runner instead. While I'm getting him tacked up, you get some food ready for me to take along. Jess may have run out of everything by now." He gave Jonesy a meaningful look. "Might need more bandages and alcohol too."

"And liniment. You'd best take my whole medical kit with you." Jonesy quickly set about gathering things together.

Andy grabbed Slim's arm. "Can I come with you?"

"No, Andy. I need to talk to Jess on my own first. See, I've got some fences to mend too."

He smiled at his brother. "But don't worry. I'm gonna bring him back here where he belongs."

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After Slim had fired him and stormed off, Jess sat at the table for a long time. Not only was he overcome with illness and pain and lacked the energy or will to move, he also had to work through things in his mind, accepting what had happened.

He had lost everything again.

How many times in his life had that happened? But at least he had the satisfaction of knowing Andy would be all right. He would keep Chief. He would keep Slim's trust and the growing friendship with his big brother. And he would be able to go on just fine without Jess Harper around. They all would.

And I'll be able to find someplace else to light. Might head south agin, git back to where it's warmer. Maybe even someday find some friends that'll trust me, and I can trust. Everything will be all right.

I'm fine.

He only wished the words felt true.

Finally, he completed the task he had just begun when Slim burst in. He let the towel that he used in cleaning his wounds fall to the table, and then wrapped his last clean bandages around his hand and middle. The entry and exit wounds on his side were still bleeding once in a while, but not bad enough to worry about the amount of blood he was losing. At least he didn't think so. He was fairly weak, but that was probably due to the fever from the infection. He hoped so. Because then as soon as the fever broke, maybe he'd feel better.

He clambered to his feet and shuffled to the fireplace, barely able to force one foot in front of the other. Finding September nights in Wyoming to be too cool to be comfortable, he got a fire going, grateful for the wood and kindling that had been stored right there. He didn't have the power to gather any himself. He was very thirsty and wished he had felt well enough earlier to go out to the stream and get some water. Maybe in the morning, before he rode out, he told himself.

He barely made it over to the cot in the room and sat down on it, leaning back against the wall. In a while, he would go out and get Traveller put up for the night in the lean-to behind the cabin. Then he would start preparing to leave, although there wasn't much to do.

Despite the awkward position in which he reclined, out of pure exhaustion, sickness, pain, and heartache, he fell asleep.

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Slim had plenty of time to think as he rode. He realized Jonesy was right… Jess had never offered one bit of excuse or reason, no defense at all. He was simply letting Slim direct all the blame at him. Jess was sacrificing his reputation, his job, his place to live, his friendships, everything… in order to protect Andy. So the boy could stay on good terms with his big brother, maintain Slim's and Jonesy's trust and respect, and keep the horse that meant so much to him. All of that was something only a good man would have done.

But at the same time, that good man had risked his own health. He hoped Jess' wounded hand was on the way to healing and had not gotten worse instead.

He arrived at the line shack after the sun had gone down, and this time he knocked on the door. There was no answer, so he slowly pushed it open and looked inside. A small glow came from a dying fire in the hearth; it had burned down low and didn't illuminate the room.

"Jess?" Slim stepped inside.

He swept his gaze around the small and nearly dark room. "Jess? You here?" Still no response. "Jess?"

"Hey, Slim."

The barely audible voice came from the far corner of the room. The weakness of that voice scared Slim. There in the shadows he saw Jess slumped on the cot, his back against the wall.

Slim closed the door behind him. He went to the fireplace and tossed a couple of smaller branches onto the fire and placed a log on top, not caring that the heat would be uncomfortable for him. He knew it would be welcomed by the Southerner, plus it made the room brighter. He also lit an oil lamp on the table. Taking note of the towel there, streaked with blood, he cringed. Feeling guilty, he walked over in front of the cot and stood looking down at Jess.

Jess said nothing, and looked completely done in.

Slim wasn't quite sure how to begin the conversation that was needed here, but plunged ahead.

"Jess, I owe you an apology."

No words would have surprised Jess more. Not knowing what to think, wondering why Slim would say such a thing, he didn't respond. He simply stared at the tall rancher.

"I jumped to some mighty bad conclusions, Jess. Thought the worst. And let those hurtful thoughts come out my big mouth. Wish I could take them back."

Jess' eyebrows drew up at the bridge of his nose. He was stunned at what he was hearing. Did this mean that now Slim didn't think he'd been drunk for three solid days, and didn't think he'd shirked his chores and caused problems for the ranch and relay? But Slim didn't know about the wounds, so what did he believe now?

"I know you're a good man, Jess. I've always known that. From that first day you got here. And I know you're dependable and a hard worker. I should never have let any doubt about that enter my mind, not when my heart knows better."

Still shocked by this change in attitude, and struggling to keep focused as losing consciousness threatened, Jess couldn't summon any words to say.

"I know you're a man I can trust, Jess. A friend I can trust."

Friend. Trust. Those were words that had been practically foreign to Jess for so long. Images flashed in his mind of former friends. Some fairly trustworthy, but not real close—Mac came to mind. Some that had proven themselves to be not at all worthy of trust or of the title friend—Will and Pete. And one who was completely trustworthy, a true pard—Jerome Brady. Jess had never had a pard before or since Jer. That was a friendship he missed, and the kind he wanted and needed, desperately.

But he had promised himself he would never do what it would take to possibly make a friendship like that happen. Because likely, it wouldn't happen, and he would be left in bad shape again. He would never be taken advantage of again, used again, betrayed again. That meant keeping everyone at arm's length. He would never again take the dangerous risk of opening himself up, of counting on having another pard like Jer. He would never again be that vulnerable. He would never trust that much. He would never take that chance.

And yet, the words of Doctor Frankton from Willow flashed through his memory.

"You're a good man, Jess. And the right people can see that in you. Those are the people you need to let into your world, son. It isn't necessary to always keep your guard up with everyone."

Slim waited. He could see a wide range of emotions crossing the Texan's face, but he still said nothing.

Slim had to make sure Jess knew exactly why he had returned to the line shack. "I want you to come back to the house, Jess. Back to your job. Back with us. Where you belong."

Belong? At that word, Jess' eyes opened wide. A place to live was one thing, even that was beyond his expectations. A place to feel welcome was even better. But a place to belong. That was something that Jess had never dared to hope for. He could hardly believe what he was hearing.

Slim was becoming very concerned about how quiet Jess was and how he hadn't moved at all, like he was too sick, hurting too much, to make the effort. It indicated he was in poor condition. He looked it too. His face was reddened and covered with sweat, apparently from fever.

"Jess, how are you feeling?"

"I'm… f─"

Jess cut off the last word. For seventeen years, his answer to that question had required no thought. No matter what the truth was about how he felt, his answer was always the same. It was what he had to say to protect himself, as his father had taught him.

But suddenly, a new thought struck him. He was a child, an injured child when his pa had told him he had to always say "I'm fine." Was there more to it than what he had realized? Had he missed or misunderstood something about the warning? He had always remembered his pa's words from the perspective of that little kid who heard them. Now, he heard them anew in his mind, as an adult.

"A man can't let no weakness show. Or somebody might use it against him. Remember that, son. So no matter what the question is, no matter how you're feelin', you're always gonna say… I'm fine."

He pondered the words carefully, weighing the use of them and his pa's loving intention in directing him to say them. And following the advice had saved his life more than once. But he wondered if Pa would have told him more, if he maybe would have even changed something about the words, had he lived beyond Jess turning fifteen. Maybe he would have explained more about what exactly he meant for Jess to do with that guidance.

Considering what Slim had just told him, thinking about what he knew for a fact about the kind of man Slim Sherman was, Jess intensely looked him in the eye.

"Did you hear me, Jess?" Slim asked worriedly. "How are you doing?"

Seventeen years giving the practiced answer. Years avoiding trust. Years evading risk.

Finally, Jess' lips parted. He took a ragged breath.

And then he took a chance.

"I'm… hurt."