Back to the Sherman Ranch! We'll catch Jess next time, as he tries to make it in a man's world.

Chapter 3: Slim

Christmas at the Sherman ranch came and went with no new baby in the house. The new year dawned bright and cold, with the wind whipping brutally through the yard. Slim pulled his coat closer around his body and shoved his mitten covered hands into his pockets. He tucked his chin deeper into his scarf as he trudged towards the barn.

Today, Slim was on an extra trip to the barn to saddle his father's horse. The sheriff had been out to the ranch the night before to ask his father to join a posse. Apparently, two men had robbed the bank, hoping there wouldn't be many people around due to the cold weather and the holiday. They had been wrong. Several people had been in the bank. Two of the patrons, including the clerk, had been shot as the thieves ran their horses out of town. Matt was reluctant to leave Mary so close to her time. Slim, quietly pretending to practice his arithmetic at the little writing desk, saw the sheriff bow his head and sigh. He leaned in closer to Matt's ear.

"These are professionals, Matt. I have good men in this posse but I don't think we'll find them without you," the sheriff said quietly, glancing over his shoulder as he did. It was almost like he was afraid to be overheard.

Slim blinked and thought about that. He knew his pa could track just about anyone or anything, but he had never heard him compared to anyone else. Slim thought all grown men could track that well, assuming they had been taught well. His pa had been trying to teach him before the weather turned so cold and he had been improving. Anyway, even if his father was the best tracker, why was the sheriff acting like it was a secret?

Now it was Matt's turn to sigh. "Alright. I want them caught just as much as you do. I'll be there."

Matt promised to meet the sheriff and the rest of the posse at the Baxter Ridge turnoff at first light. It would be up to Slim and Jonesy to guard the house and take care of Mary.

The chore finished, Slim led his father's favorite mare out into the yard and over to the kitchen door, out of the wind. Steam billowed around the horses's nostrils. Slim watched as the steam in his own breath merged with the horse's, swirling into strange shapes before being swept away by the cutting wind. He shivered.

The door creaked open and Matt stepped out, packed saddle bags in hand and winter bedroll under his arm. His free hand clapped Slim on the back as he swung the saddle bags onto the horse's back. He carefully tied on the bedroll and mounted up. Slim tried hard not to shiver as he handed the reins up to Pa.

Matt smiled down at his son. On horseback was quickly becoming the only time he was actually taller than Slim. "Take care of your mama, boy", he said, as he turned the horse's head toward the road and spurred her on.

Slim watched his father grow smaller and smaller. All morning, Slim had had an uneasy feeling in his gut. "Be careful, Pa" he said softly into the wind. As soon as the words left his lips, his father's horse stopped and his father turned back to the yard. Matthew raised his hat off of his head, almost in acknowledgement. Slim gasped, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. An odd coincidence, it must have been. He could barely hear his own thoughts over the wind, let alone a softly spoken word from half way down the road. It had to have been a coincidence. Slim shook his head at himself, his mind drifting back to the sentinels from his pa's stories. He chuckled to himself at that, suddenly feeling a bit better. Slim figured, if his pa had superhuman hearing like a sentinel, there was no way some puny little bank robbers could hurt him. He turned the knob and slipped into the warm kitchen. Behind him, the first few snowflakes started to fall.

By the time the sun sank to the horizon, Slim's good feelings were long gone. They had known that the manhunt may take longer than one day, and there was every chance to posse would spend the night at another ranch along the trail. Slim's concerns lay with his ma. She had been restless all day, wandering the house and watching the snow fall outside the windows. The snow had gotten deeper through the day and the wind had whipped it up into great drifts. Jonesy had sent Mary to bed when he caught her standing over the stove, a spoon in and, staring off through the window into the snow. Slim found Jonesy at the stove instead when he came in after finishing the evening barn chores.

"Did you string that rope between the hose and the barn like I asked you? We may just need it tonight," Jonesy said. Slim, blowing warm air into his cupped hands, nodded.

"Yessir I did. All the horses and the cow are bedded down with their blankets on,"

"Good, good. When your fingers thaw out and you can hold the china without breaking it, set two places at the table. Your mama will take hers in bed," Jonesy told him, pulling the biscuits out of the oven.

Slim walked over to the coat rack in the front room, unbuttoning his coat as he went. He hung up his coat, scarf, hat, and mittens before going back to the kitchen for the plates. "Is she alright?" Slim asked, setting two plates on the table and a third on the counter by the pump handle. Slim idly wondered how much cold it would take before the pump froze. Behind him, Jonesy stopped stirring and started spooning stew into the serving bowl.

"She's fine, son, I just thought she could use a rest. That baby could come any time now, and I'd rather she didn't get herself too worked up while your pa ain't around."

Slim nodded. Jonesy always had reasonable ideas about what was going on, and Slim trusted his judgement more than just about anyone else besides his pa. Granted, Jonesy and his pa didn't disagree on much at all as Slim could tell.

The two men filled their plates and Slim ate his meal quickly. With the stew in his belly, Slim felt warmer than he had all day. Eager to see that his mother really was fine, Slim grabbed the third plate, filled it with stew, and the last two biscuits before striding toward the bedroom. Jonesy smiled and shook his head slowly. *That boy has more care in his little finger than most grown folks have in their whole body*, he thought to himself.

Slim knocked on the door before pushing it open a crack and peeking in. "Come in, sweetheart, thank you," Mary said. Slim stepped into the room and sat on the edge of the bed while his mother pushed herself up into a sitting position against the pillows. She tried to take the plate from Slim but had nowhere to put it with her baby belly in the way. They looked at each other for a moment, until Mary started to laugh. Slim grinned at her and laughed along with her, took the plate back, and instead handed her a biscuit soaked in the broth. Still chuckling, Mary took the biscuit and said, "It looks like I'm going to need your help for this, honey."

"Sure, ma," Slim said, as he scooped a chunk of potato onto the spoon. Mary finished about half the plate in this fashion without incident. Out of seemingly nowhere, Mary curled forward and gritted her teeth. Both of her hands went to her belly. Slim stood suddenly, the plate crashing to the floor as he rushed to try and help his ma. Jonesy, hearing the commotion from the kitchen, rushed into the room.

"Slim, Mary, what happened?" Jonesy asked. Mary cried out, now gripping the sheets tightly. Slim remained tense and silent. Mary finally relaxed and looked up at Jonesy standing at Slim's shoulder.

"Jonesy, it's time. Ride for the doctor, something doesn't feel right," Mary said. Despite the dire words, Mary's words were calm. Slim felt the calmness wash over him. The feeling settled him just enough he could move again. With that, Slim was running for the door, grabbing his coat and hat on the way. Out in the yard he was met by a world of swirling white. He kept going, wondering in the back of his mind if it was really still snowing or if the wind was just blowing it around. It didn't really matter. He could still see the barn, and come Hell or high water, he was getting the doctor for his mama.

Jonesy was on the porch as Slim led his saddled horse out of the barn. "Boy, it's a nasty one out tonight. There's no guarantee a man could even get to town, let alone bring the doctor out here," Jonesy called, raising his voice over the wind.

Slim didn't care. "I have to try, Jonesy. You've brought more foals and calves into the world than most men. You might help mama if I don't make it, and I'll be useless here. I have to try," Slim called back. By this time, Slim had mounted and pulled his horse up level with the porch. Jonesy stared hard into Slim's face. He saw the same set jaw and pale blue eyes he'd often seen in his best friend's face, the expression hard as flint.

Jonesy stepped forward without a word, handing Slim his scarf and mittens. As Slim took them, he realized Jonesy never really intended to stop him. "Be careful, son. I can't…I can't lose you both. Your pa can't lose you both. Ride fast but be smart," he said. Slim gave him a grim smile before spurring his horse into the swirling flakes.

Time didn't seem to pass for Slim as he raced the twelve miles to town. He was careful not to run the horse too hard; he knew he still had to make it back out to the ranch again. His thoughts narrowed down simply Don't stop, keep going. Fear gripped him, pushing him onward long after his face had gone numb to the cold wind. Before he realized it, he was streaking into the dark town and up to the doctor's door. Slim vaulted off his mount and took the porch steps two at a time. He barely slid to a stop before he was pounding on the door, calling for Doc Hannigan. There was no answer. The windows were dark and the blinds were all closed. Slim stepped back, considering what to do next. He turned a full circle, glancing around for anything or anyone that could help him. The street was empty and silent save for the relentless Wyoming wind.

Slim hurried back down the steps and mounted his horse again. Panic was starting to set in. He didn't know what to do. His ma and Jonesy were counting on him, and his father was off with the sheriff, unreachable. In this weather, his pa might as well have been up there on that cold, pale, lonely moon. Slim turned his horse toward home again, feeling defeated and terrified. Just as the fear reached a crescendo in his mind, something else flickered to life. It was just a little flash of feeling, but it was so out of place that it had Slim pulling his horse up. He cocked his head as if listening and waited. The feeling flickered again, stronger now, and Slim just knew it was coming from the direction of the livery. The feeling was… Humor. Someone, somewhere inside the livery, was sharing a joke. A flicker of joy soon followed. Slim unconsciously turned his horse in the direction of the flickers and spurred her on.

Slim slid down from the horse's back and pushed the livery door open. Lamp light spilled out into the street and a rush of warm air brought pins and needles to Slim's cheeks.

"Whatcha doin' there, boy? Hurry up, close that door, we can' have this little guy gettin' chilled!" came the voice of Todd, the town blacksmith who ran the livery. Slim, a bit dazed, came in and closed the door as instructed.

"He should be just fine now, Todd, thanks for coming to get me. His mama had a hard time of it, but with a little time, they should both be fine." Another man stood up from where he had been drying off a newborn foal. He turned towards the door and Slim recognized Doc Beck, the veterinarian.

A newborn foal, brought into the world by a vet. A doctor. He's a doctor! Slim came back to life all at once, the strange flickers forgotten. "Doc! We need you. Ma says the baby's coming, something is wrong, Doc Hannigan wasn't there…" Slim could hardly breathe for the rush of words.

Doc Beck stepped forward and put a steadying hand on Slim's chest and the other on his shoulder. "Slow down there, son, nice and easy. Doc Hannigan is out at the Meier place tonight, keeping an eye on three children with the whooping cough. I'll pack up my bag and come out to help your ma. Todd, you best get young Mister Sherman here a fresh horse, I'm sure his is about done in," he finished. Slim took a deep breath. The doctor was going to help them. He hadn't failed after all. Doc stepped away to pack up his things.

"Bring yer horse in here, Slim, and get 'im bedded down while I getcha a new one," Todd drawled. Slim jumped to obey. The sooner they had things situated, the sooner they could help Ma.

The ride back to the ranch was even more of a blur than the ride to town had been. Slim was simply going through the motions with no thought to what he was doing or why, but they never strayed from the quickest path to the ranch. As they got closer, Slim felt a few more of those strange flickers. Instead of humor and joy, however, these flickers felt like fear. The fear was hard to notice at first, on top of Slim's own fear. After the third time Slim started to realize this fear was a slightly different flavor than his own. Still somehow familiar, but not his own. The feeling made him think of his mother and how scared she must be now. A few more flickers came, this time reminding him of Jonesy. These flickers started as fear but changed to include despair. The helplessness of the flickers threatened to overwhelm Slim. Last, as Slim and Doc Beck were nearing the last turn home, he felt the worst flicker of all. This was grief, but it was not Slim's own. He knew in that moment, without a shadow of doubt, that Jonesy had given up. Slim had never once seen Jonesy quit before, and the grief scared him more than anything else that night. Slim didn't have space to be any more scared, so the fear turned to anger and determination. Without a glance at Doc Beck, Slim spurred his horse into a gallop over the snow. Jonesy needed to know he wasn't alone, and he needed to know. He needed to know right now. They were not about to give up on his mama or her baby.

Slim made it to the house just a few minutes later. He jumped from the saddle, not even bothering to tie the horse.

"Jonesy! I have a doc!" Slim shouted, as he burst through the door. The feelings of fear and sadness in that house hit him full in the face, and Slim had had all he could take in one night. Jonesy opened the bedroom door just in time to see Slim collapse into the arms of the Laramie vet. Jonesy hurried over and helped the doc lay Slim on the couch by the fire.

"He'll be fine, Doc, I'm sure he's just had enough tonight. Your patient is through here. I hope you have some experience with two legged critters," Jonesy said, leading Doc Beck to the bedroom.

"I think we can manage," came the reply. The doctor took a second to survey the room, taking in the sweat on Mary's brow and the blood on the sheets. "Alright, ma'am, let's take a look."

Out in the front room, Slim remained oblivious.

Slim woke in his own bed, the quilt pulled up all the way to his nose. Somewhere, close by, someone was irritated. Or angry. Or something. Slim wasn't sure. He wasn't even sure how he knew that, or what had woken him up. Still mostly asleep, Slim slipped out of bed and stumbled to the front room. He was sure someone needed his help. There, in front of the crackling fireplace, was the one who needed him. He slipped his hands under the small bundle just as he heard it start to make a soft whimper of sound. Slim pulled the bundle into the crook of his arm, close to his chest, and sat down in the rocker next to the… crib? Slim blinked. There hadn't been a crib in here before. Slim blinked again, this time down at the cooing bundle. Since when was there a baby in the house? Slim wondered, furrowing his brow. At that moment, the door to his parents' bedroom creaked open softly. Slim looked up to see his father standing in front of him, smiling softly. At that, Slim's sleepy attitude shattered like an old bottle used for target practice. His pa's eyes widened and he quickly crossed the room, taking the bundle from Slim's arms with one hand and holding his older son upright in the rocker with the other.

"Jonesy!" Matt hissed. "I need your help over here!"

Jonesy, somehow coming fully awake instantly, stood up from the kitchen chair where he had been sleeping. "Is it Andrew? Is he crying?"

"Nah, little Andy is fine. It's big brother I'm worried about," Matt replied, handing the bundle, apparently named Andrew, off the Jonesy for safe keeping. Slim watched this through glazed eyes. Pa was now using both hands to steady his firstborn, kneeling in front of the chair and pulling Slim in close to his chest in a crushing bear hug. Slim tucked his face into the curve of his father's shoulder, just like he had when he was little.

"Slim, thank you. Thank you, son," Matt said into Slim's hair, bringing one hand up to cradle the back of his head. Slim's brain was slowly catching up to the present. Apparently, he had made it with Doc Beck in time for him to save his little brother. His little brother, named Andrew, called Andy.

"Mama?" Slim asked, nearly silently, afraid to hear the answer. Matt smiled.

"Asleep in bed, tired after that fight, but she'll be just fine. Little brother was turned the wrong way around inside of her. Doc Beck was able to get things rearranged, and Andy was born lickety split after that. I hear you slept through that part," his pa said with a chuckle. "I made it back shortly after dawn the morning Andy was born. It's been one whole day and night since that happened, dawn is only an hour or so off." Slim groaned. He'd slept an entire day and night, but he still felt ready to drop.

"Before we get you back to bed, I do have one question. Doc Beck said you found him in the livery delivering a foal. How did you know he was there? Did you go door to door through the whole town?" his father asked. Slim leaned back and furrowed his brows together, frowning. He wasn't quite sure how he'd known, come to think of it. His father continued, sounding excited. "Did you hear him? See him?...smell him?" He asked, looking at Slim intently.

Slim was more confused than ever. "Pa, how would you expect me to hear or.. smell… a man from halfway across Laramie, in a blizzard? I just knew he was there. I was about to leave town again when I.. well…" He trailed off, unsure how to explain the weird flickers that had guided him that night.

"You just what, son?" his father prompted. "Go on, don't worry if it sounds silly. How did you know?"

Slim let the breath out of his body and closed his eyes. "I… I guess I just felt him. Doc Beck and Todd, over at the livery. They were happy about the new foal, and I felt them. I don't understand it and I can't explain it any better than that," Slim finished. He felt utterly ridiculous, claiming he felt the happiness of two men from across town.

"Well, I'll be damned," Jonesy said. Slim opened his eyes again to see his father beaming at him and Jonesy shaking his head slowly in disbelief as he rocked Andy. Matt, chuckling, pulled Slim to his feet and wrapped an arm around his waist, guiding him back to bed. He called over his shoulder to Jonesy, "I guess we have our final answer."

Slim, now tucked back in bed, asked his father what on Earth he was talking about. What was the answer they seemed so happy about?

Matt smiled again, running his thumb over Slim's cheek. "The answer, son, is that although you favor me on the outside, you actually take after your mother."