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Chapter 9: Slim Sherman, No Relation

It was a merry but lean Christmas at the Sherman ranch that year. Matt, Mary, and Jonesy had done their best with what they had. Luckily, Slim was old enough to understand and Andy was too young to notice. They still put on their best clothes and took the wagon to church in Laramie, wished their friends merry Christmas, and sang the usual hymns. For Andy's gifts, the family had chosen trinkets from the attic to warp in paper and the almost-4-year-old was delighted with ripping them open. They were happy, but the stress of their financial situation still lurked at the edges of their Christmas joy.

Slim had sold the horses he had broken to the army back in early November. He hadn't gotten quite as much as he'd wanted for them, but he figured it had been a fair price. None of them had been from very fancy stock and they had only been green-broke. The money had been enough to hold the bank off through the holidays, but not for long after.

Today was the first of February. The dawn had been blustery and cold with bright sunshine and a sky so blue it hurt to look at, teasing of spring but with very little warmth. Slim had volunteered to drive into town that day to pick up supplies, check for mail, and most importantly, make a payment to the bank. Andy had just turned four a few weeks ago and he was definitely exhibiting signs of cabin fever. While getting ready to leave, Slim watched as his little brother ran circles around the kitchen, crawled under the breakfast table, and generally tried their ma's patience to the very frayed ends. Laughing, he scooped Andy up onto his lap and offered to take the little hellion into town with him. The exasperated and grateful look Mary gave him in return was all the answer he needed. Andy excitedly ran for his coat and gloves while Slim got the wagon ready. As they rolled toward town, the weather shaped up to be pretty fair by late winter standards. Maybe spring wasn't too far off after all.

After their first two stops, Slim was wishing they hadn't come to town at all. He'd first stopped at the bank, Andy holding tight to his hand, to make the payment. The loan officer had been horribly dismissive, and Slim had had to bite his cheek to keep from telling the man exactly where he could shove the extra notice he handed to Slim. They were paying all they could, but the banker of course didn't see it that way. The next stop had been the general store. Kindly old Walt, who'd known Slim most of his life, had gently told him that this would be the last supply run they could buy on credit.

"I'm sorry, Slim, but I've got a business to think of. Times is hard for everyone, not just the ranches. I wish I could help ya more," he'd said, looking down at the counter.

Slim took a deep breath and put a hand on the old man's shoulder. "I understand, sir, and I'll pass the word along to pa. Don't worry about us, I know you've let us go on longer than most would have," he said, turning to load the wagon as he placed his hat back on his head. Slim did notice that Walt still slipped Andy a licorice whip when he thought his back was turned. He shook his head and smiled at the little act of kindness.

Now, he and Andy were standing in front of the post office message board. There had been no mail to pick up, but one flier had caught Slim's eye as they were leaving.

"Whatcha readin', Slim?" asked Andy, trying his best to stand up on his tip toes. Slim picked him up and set the boy on his hip so he could see, mindful of the boy's sticky licorice hands.

"It's a poster, Andy, talking about joining the army," he said, gesturing to the one in question as he tried to wipe the sugar off Andy's fingers with a handkerchief.

Andy stared intently at the block letters. "What's it sayin'?" Andy asked, squirming a bit as he tried to get closer. The boy never had learned to hold still.

"Well, it says here that a man can get a thousand dollars if he signs up to fight in the cavalry back east, in the war between the states, instead of fighting the Indians here. And on top of that thousand dollars, a man can get paid steady wages every month," Slim said, as he hiked the boy up a little higher on his hip and tucked the handkerchief back in his pocket.

"You're brother's right, young man." Slim turned and saw a cavalry officer walking toward him. "Although, I think you might be a bit young to go off to war."

Andy giggled at that. "I ain't gonna be in the Army, mister! I'm gonna be a rancher like pa an' Slim!"

Slim smiled tightly. He hoped there'd still be a ranch for Andy to run one day.

"How about you, mister…?" the officer asked Slim, trailing off.

"Sherman, sir," said Slim, reaching out to shake the offered hand. "I'm Slim Sherman and this is Andy. And he's right, my father and I run a ranch not too far east of town."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Sherman. I'm Captain Rossner. Did you have any interest in that there poster? Any questions I can answer for you?" he asked, leaning casually against the post office siding and crossing his arms.

Slim pulled in a breath. "I reckon I was just looking at it, but I'll admit that I find the idea intriguing."

The captain nodded thoughtfully. "You ever do any blacksmithin' out on that ranch of yours? Or farryin'?"

Slim nodded. "Both, if it's called for, sir. I haven't had the most practice at it, but none of our stock have complained."

Captain Rossner smiled at that. "Well, Mr. Sherman, I'm in the middle of a recruiting drive for the 23rd Volunteers. We're in need of real horsemen, men born in the saddle, who can handle the animal effectively. With your experience, I could start you off as a sergeant. You'd be paid seventeen dollars monthly, and of course you'd get that thousand dollar bonus. Find any of that intriguing?"

Slim raised his eyebrows. That kind of money could save the ranch, he thought to himself. Andy was looking between Slim and the captain, clearly not understanding what was happening. Slim opened his mind a bit, evaluating the man in front of him. He didn't pick up on any hint of deceit, only a mild curiosity and a small amount of hope. Hope that I'll take him up on his offer.

"Yes, sir, I suppose that does intrigue me," Slim said, looking back at the poster. "I'll need to think things over. How long will you be in town?"

"I'm headed back to Cheyenne tomorrow, I just came to hang up these fliers and spread the word. If you do decide to join up, bring yourself and your mount to the Cheyenne station on February fifteenth. We'll be headed out on the six o'clock train," he said, pushing off the wall and shaking Slim's hand again in farewell.

"Thank you, Captain, for the information," Slim said. The captain turned and went on into the post office. Slim carried Andy over to the wagon and set him up on the seat.

"Slim, what was that man really talkin' 'bout?" Andy asked, looking unsure, as Slim climbed up beside him.

"He was sorta offering me a job," Slim said, tying Andy's scarf more snugly around the boy's neck before flicking the reins.

"Doncha already got a job? With pa?"

"Well, sure, but sometimes a man needs more than one job," Slim replied, hoping he was giving the right answers. "The ranch will still be here when I finish this job, and then I can come back and pick up with pa right where I left off." Andy nodded silently, thinking it over. "Andy, I'd appreciate you keeping this to yourself, at least until I get a chance to think it through," and find a way to break the news to ma and pa, Slim thought, not to mention Jonesy.

Andy grinned brightly at that idea. He loved it when his big brother trusted him with secret things. "Sure, Slim! I won't tell 'em nothin'!"

Slim hoped that was true as he unwrapped the sandwiches their ma had packed, handing half to Andy and taking a bite of his own. He listened as Andy chattered idly about every rock, tree, and fencepost they passed.

As soon as the wagon rolled into the yard, Andy went flying into the kitchen. Slim took his time unhitching the mare and getting her settled in her stall, thinking about the best way to bring the subject up. He'd thought about it the whole ride back from town and hadn't had much luck. His family would hate it, but the more he thought about it, the more his mind was set on the idea. He closed the barn door and headed for the house.

He opened the side door just in time to hear Andy say, "and then we talked to a man about his army poster but I'm not 'sposed ta tell ya what he and Slim talked about! How much money is a thousand dollars, anyway?"

Slim turned around as he closed the door and rested his forehead on the smooth wood. He took a moment to close his eyes and take a deep breath. So much for breaking the news gently, he thought. With a sigh, he turned back to face the room. His mother was there in the kitchen, just starting on dinner, while his father and Jonesy took their afternoon coffees at the table in the main room.

"What's this I hear about army posters and a thousand dollars, Slim?" his father asked, leveling a hard gaze at his oldest son. "And how about asking your brother to lie about both?" Jonesy's cup was frozen halfway between his saucer and his lips.

Slim took off his gloves and scarf as he crossed the room, hanging everything neatly on its usual hook. "I didn't ask him to lie, pa," Slim said, narrowing his eyes at Andy. "I only asked him to let me bring it up first." Slim grabbed for Andy and the boy scrambled away with a small screech. Slim smiled and joined the other two men at the table. He tucked his legs under his chair and put his elbows on the table with his hands folded together. "The man was a cavalry captain, named Captain Rossner. He's recruiting for the war against the south."

Jonesy shook his head. "Ain't the army got enough trouble keeping a cavalry 'round here? Recruitin' our boys to fight out east…" Jonesy grumbled, "We got enough Indian trouble in these parts to keep a soldier in business for a long time." He finally seemed to remember his midair coffee cup and set it down on its saucer.

"You see, Jonesy, that's just it," Slim started, treading lightly. "They don't have enough cavalry anywhere. That's why they're offering the thousand-dollar sign-on bonus Andy was talking about. Oh, and pa, another thing," Slim said, reaching into his back pants pocket. He drew out the bank notice and handed it across the table. As his pa unfolded it and scanned the information, Slim continued. "Walt at the general store let me fill the list today, but that's the last one we can have on credit," he said quietly. "I've made up my mind, pa. I'm going east." Slim heard his mother drop something in the kitchen.

Jonesy was back to shaking his head slowly, looking down at the dark liquid in his cup. Without a word, Matt stood sharply and went out the front door, not even bothering to grab his hat. The cloud of shame and anger he left in his wake just about choked Slim. He gritted his teeth and tried to clamp down on his own reaction. He'd imagined a lot of responses his father might have had. The anger was expected, but the shame… Slim had never thought his father would be ashamed of his choice to join the army. He bent his head and tried again to hold himself together. He tried to pretend that his thumb nail was just about the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen.

His mother's soft hands circled around his shoulders as she leaned her cheek against his head. "Oh Slim, honey, he isn't ashamed of you. I know how that must have seemed, but I promise it isn't true. Neither of us have ever been anything less than proud of you."

Slim sat there, unmoving, as he heard Jonesy stand up and follow Matt out into the yard. His mother continued. "Trust me, Slim, those feelings were directed at himself. We never wanted to put you in this position, to force you into a life you never planned on, for the sake of the ranch."

Slim felt a small hand on his thigh. He looked down, between his elbow and his side, to see Andy's big brown, tearful eyes staring up at him. The little boy's lip quivered. "I'm sorry I told, Slim, I didn't know you'd get in trouble," he said. Slim huffed out a small laugh and leaned back, hefting Andy up onto his lap. His mother's hands still rested on his shoulders and Andy clung to his chest in a bear hug.

"You didn't do anything wrong, buddy. Don't you worry about me. As long as Ma doesn't make me go to bed without supper, I reckon I can handle just about anything," Slim told him, hugging him back. Mary's laugh sounded a bit watery, but when Slim looked up she was smiling.

"I'm not about to do that, we can't have you any slimmer than you already are!" Mary exclaimed, heading back to the kitchen. "You're giving the bean poles in the garden a run for their money as it is!"

Andy giggled, pushing back to look at his big brother. Slim smiled at him, saying "You'll see, pa won't stay upset for long. Now go wash your face, Andy, those tears turned your trail dust straight to mud, right there on your cheeks!" The little boy hopped down, making his way over to the wash basin. Slim just hoped he was right about their father.

That night, after the chores were done and dinner was cleared away, Matt put his hand on Slim's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "I understand why you're doing what you're doing. I wish it hadn't come to this, but I want you to know you have my blessing. As long as you come home in one piece," he said. Slim nodded.

"I'll do my best, sir."

Before anyone was really ready, it was Slim's last night on the ranch. Mary had baked an early birthday cake, since Slim would be spending his twentieth birthday on the train. Overall, dinner was cheerful but a bit subdued. Once the dishes were done and put away, Mary retired with Andy to the back bedroom. Slim sat in the great room with his pa and Jonesy, quietly watching the fire burn.

"Slim, we got one last thing to take care of tonight," his pa said, rising from his chair. Slim started to get up to follow him, figuring he meant some chore or other out in the barn. Matt, seeing him rise, chuckled. "You stay right there, son, Jonesy and I have a gift for you."

Slim sat down again with a curious smile. He really hadn't expected anything. After all, he wasn't a kid anymore, and times were anything but easy. His pa grabbed a package wrapped in what seemed to be an old feed sack off the top of the pantry and walked over to Slim as Jonesy leaned forward. Without even trying, Slim could feel how excited their foreman was. Slim grinned and took the package. It was heavier than he expected it to be.

"Well, thank you both, very much!" Slim said, as he unwrapped it. There in his hand, reflecting the light of the fire, was an 1851 Third Model Colt Dragoon and a tooled leather holster. Slim was speechless.

Jonesy cleared his throat. "We figured you couldn't be goin' off to be a soldier boy without a sidearm," he said, watching Slim's reaction intently. He still had no idea what to say.

Matt smiled at his son's shocked expression. "This one belonged to my brother, while he was working as a deputy down in Nebraska territory. I've had it tucked away in the attic with the rest of his things. I always figured I'd pass it on to you someday, and we all decided this was the time."

Jonesy piped up again, "Reckon we may need to add a few holes to the belt so it don't fall off ya, but it'll work all right."

Slim finally managed to close his mouth. "Pa, Jonesy, I… I just don't know what to say, other than thank you," he said, still looking at the gun. It means the whole world to me, Slim thought, a warm bubble rising up in his chest. He felt like that bubble might just rise up and fill the whole room. He smiled and shook his head in awe.

Jonesy's eyes went wide and Matt laughed. "Son," Matt said, "You're getting better all the time at your projecting."

Slim looked up, startled, and immediately the bubble popped. Jonesy just chuckled. "Boy, it's been a long time since I felt somethin' like that. My pa used to be able to project on us regular folks, just like you can. Anyway, I'm glad it means so much to ya. I'll pack you a cleaning kit to go in your saddlebags," he said, patting Slim's knee before he stood up, headed to the bunk house. "See you both in the mornin'."

Slim also stood then, commenting on his long day tomorrow and needing to try and sleep. Before he could take a step toward his bedroom door, however, Matt pulled him into a rare hug. Slim took the opportunity to hug his father back just as tightly.

That morning was a difficult one for all of them. No one but Andy had gotten any sleep at all, but Andy still seemed to take the goodbye hardest. He kissed his ma and shook hands with his pa and Jonesy both before bending down to Andy's level. He scooped him up, squeezed him tightly, and then handed him back to their mother. Andy was doing his best to be strong about it, but there's only so much a four-year-old can handle.

"I'll write as soon as I get where we're going," Slim promised, "and I'll be home again before you know it."

With one final wave, he was on his way, but he couldn't quite block out the emotions behind him. As soon as he was over the rise and out of even his father's impressive hearing range, he let the tears fall.

He spent one night on the trail before reaching Cheyenne. The next morning, he found Captain Rossner at the train station with no problems. He got his horse settled into the stock car before joining the rest of the recruits in the passenger car. The time passed slowly, and Slim spent most of the journey simply watching the countryside roll by. When they finally reached St. Louis, he and the rest of the recruits retrieved their horses and rode together to the Benton Barracks to officially sign on.

When it was Slim's turn, he stepped right up and signed the book. The time for hesitating had long passed. The sergeant running the sign-in looked down at the book and then back up at Slim, confused.

"Did your mama plan on starving you right from the outset?" the man asked, knitting his brows together as he looked Slim up and down. Slim just laughed.

"No sir, I don't think so, but the name sure stuck," he said, accepting the small stack of paperwork he was handed.

"Wait a minute… Sherman, just like that new general I've been hearing about?" he asked, clearly excited about whoever this other Sherman was, but Slim didn't have any idea who the man was talking about. He just shook his head.

"No, sir, I just got here from Wyoming territory. I'm sure there's no relation." The sergeant just grunted in disappointment and called the next recruit forward.

Slim stepped aside and found a place to complete his intake forms. He set it up so half his wages and his entire bonus would be sent directly to Laramie and filled in the other relevant information. He did have the vague sense that he had just sold his soul, but it came with a deep feeling of relief. He'd secured the financial future of the ranch for a few years with only a few strokes of a pen, and to Slim it was worth it. He handed in his papers and accepted his stack of new uniforms. He then followed the crowd to the big rooms of bunk beds, changed his clothes, and got in line to have his photo taken. Slim focused on going through the motions, one step at a time, and tried not to think too much about everything yet to come.

Right as he got to the front of the line, he caught sight of himself in the small mirror hanging on the wall. Slim hardly recognized himself without his standard collared button-down shirt and regular hat. The dark blue of his new coat and cap made his eyes look even lighter in comparison, and he was glad he'd remembered to shave that morning. He was most surprised that he didn't look like some skinny lost kid. He looked like a soldier. When the photographer called for the next man, Slim stepped forward with his chin held high.

Army life in St. Louis turned out to be very different than Slim had imagined, but it wasn't all bad. Slim had never really considered himself a gifted horseman, but then again, he'd never realized just how clueless some men were when it came to riding and caring for an animal. Since Slim had started as a sergeant, he was in charge of twelve soldiers. He hadn't had much practice being in command, aside from running part of the round-up crew the year before. Slim read every book he could find on cavalry tactics, their equipment manuals, and the geography of the areas they would be fighting in. He wrote home as often as he could find the time. During drills, he taught his men every trick he'd ever learned about tracking and scouting. As time went on, Slim learned how to use his gifts to help him lead. It became second nature to see how his men were feeling in order to gauge their understanding of a new skill or to get a sense of their overall morale. He learned when to push them harder and when to give them a break. Over the course of barely a month, Slim's fresh recruits had become some of the best horse soldiers in the troop.

As the troop moved into the thick of things, they served mostly as scouts and escorts for the infantry regiments. Slim advanced quickly through the ranks thanks to his natural leadership abilities and work ethic. Eventually, he was promoted to Second Lieutenant, serving alongside First Lieutenant Whit Malone and Captain William Tucker. "Second Lieutenant Sherman, No Relation" became Slim's standard introduction when meeting new officers.

First Lieutenant Whit Malone turned out to be a bright spot in Slim's army life. Whit was a head shorter than Slim but much broader in the shoulders and hips. He didn't tolerate disrespect from anyone and he could be quite the imposing figure when he wanted, but he laughed easily when the time was right. While traveling across Tennessee, the pair got themselves into and out of more trouble than Slim would have thought possible. Their quick-draw games became legendary among the soldiers. Captain Tucker wasn't nearly as impressed, though, and gave his two lieutenants quite an earful on the matter. That was the first and the last time they ever let the captain catch them at it.

As the senior officer, Whit took it upon himself to teach Slim everything he knew about whiskey and women. During his "lessons", Slim learned quickly that alcohol made it difficult to block out the emotions of others, and he was much less able to interpret what he was sensing when under the influence. Everything just blended together with fuzzy edges. Slim found he enjoyed the feeling as long as the emotions in the room were generally positive. The night they tried to romance a certain general's daughters, however, Slim found out that Whit knew a lot more about whiskey than he did about women. They ended up running for their lives through the back garden with an angry maid hot on their trail, laughing so hard they could barely breathe. Through it all, they always managed to get themselves back to camp with only a headache and a new story for their trouble.

The night before their first major conflict, Slim couldn't sleep. As an officer, he was fortunate enough to have a real bunk inside a tent and out of the wind, but the mattress on this one might as well have been made of river rock. Blocking out the emotions from so many soldiers all the time was exhausting on an average day. Slim was finding it nearly impossible tonight, thanks to all the pre-battle anxiety around him. In the small hours of the morning, with most men asleep, Slim took the chance to lower his defenses and relax his mind. As he often did, he turned to the bonds with his family for comfort.

His mother had been right, their bonds were not broken by distance, but Slim did notice a change. What he had once thought of as easy flowing rivers of feeling had now stretched taught into ropes. The tightly strung ropes just seemed to fade into the unknown at the edge of his mind's eye; his family was too far away to sense anything from them. He sighed, remembering the feelings of love and safety his mother had used to lull him to sleep as a boy. He put all his focus into bringing those feelings forward, imagining them filling him up and settling right into his bones, in an attempt to get himself to sleep. He tried not to let the quartermaster snoring on the top bunk break his concentration.

While his plan didn't exactly work, Slim noticed small changes in the emotions pressing at his mind from the soldiers nearby. One by one, their anxiety and fear melted away, and Slim could feel them sleeping more peacefully. He suddenly realized he must be projecting, and that he was doing it intentionally for the first time. Even the snoring above him seemed to settle down. Finally, Slim thought with a smile, satisfied with himself.

The next morning, the troop was lively and in much better spirits than they had been the night before. Slim, meanwhile, could hardly keep his eyes open while he tightened his cinch. He leaned against his horse and let his eyes slip shut. Using his abilities in new ways always left him feeling drained.

A hand coming down on his shoulder startled him awake and a big belly laugh sounded behind him. He whirled around, nearly losing his balance in the process. I should have known, Slim thought, groaning. It was Malone.

"Look alive, Lieutenant!" Whit said, much too loudly. "Those rebs ain't gonna wait 'til you're done nappin'!"

Slim did his best not to roll his eyes, smiling good naturedly instead. "No sir, I reckon not," he answered, giving the cinch one last tug before mounting up. He gave Whit an exaggerated salute as he moved off take his position, the other officer still laughing as his expense.

Captain Tucker walked up behind his first lieutenant, leading his own mount. "Malone! What's the matter with Sherman?" he asked. He needed all of his officers in top form today.

"I reckon nothin' really, Cap. He's just a little tired is all. Leave it to Sherman, seems like he's the only man in camp who can't sleep before a battle," Whit replied, shaking his head. "He probably kept himself up all night, worryin' about something or another. You know how particular he can be."

The captain narrowed his eyes slightly, watching as his second lieutenant checked in with the sergeants. He wasn't so sure that tired was the whole story, but he let it go at that for now. "Keep an eye on him, lieutenant. I don't want him falling off his horse as soon as the cannons fire."

Whit smiled. "Yes sir. Don't worry about Sherman, I'll keep him in line." With that, Whit mounted up and readied the troop for battle.