Chapter Five
Oh, that blasted ceiling! Why do I always gotta stare at that same, old patch of nothingness? I wanna get outta here so bad I could leap outta the window. You know, Jess craned his head, searching for the brighter square of white against the wall of the same shade. That might not be such a bad idea.
But Jess could only pull himself into one position before he started to pant. His left side would have been able to take the brunt of his weight if it wasn't for the chest wound. The puckered skin underneath the bandage tugging and producing the same, silent scream through his lips, Jess rested his head against the metal frame and looked up.
The dreaded piece of ceiling stared back at him.
Dadgum!
Waiting for his breath to return to a normal rhythm, Jess shifted his gaze to his bed. Still white, but the look was remarkably different. His legs no longer straight, now scrunched in the center, had taken the linens along for the haphazard ride. But seeing the change gave Jess the momentum to continue. As he was close enough to being seated upright, Jess figured he might as well go the rest of the way. Cradling his right hand across his middle, Jess wiggled his backside until he felt the edge of the bed and then swung both legs over the edge. His back would have to rise or he would fall. Fear of going down gave his upper half the strength to take the journey upward.
Jess smiled. He was seated, and so close to being up that he might as well put one foot on the floor. The excitement made his skin tingle. But Jess stopped before his bare toes could feel the white tiles underneath. The shiver was running its course from head to toe for an entirely different reason than the hopeful thrill. Someone was coming.
And I reckon I know exactly who. Dadgum.
"Good morning, Je…" Orleta's gape quickly turned to a gasp. "What are you doing sitting up?"
Different scenery.
"Jess, you should not be doing anything but lying still. You're positively shaking!"
Yeah, because you're looking at my bare legs.
Orleta rolled her eyes as Jess flipped the blanket over himself. "You are not squeamish around me and you know it. Don't forget, I've given you a bath, among other things."
I've been trying to forget. Dadgummed ornery woman. Wait. That ain't what you're here for, is it? Among other things, I mean.
"I was checking in on Mr. Tompkins next door and thought I'd stop in. And am I glad I did. Jess, I'm sorry. I know you didn't want any more morphine, but I can't stand to see a patient in this much pain."
Orleta. Please.
She stared at the palm he held out in front of her. "What is it?"
I don't want any medicine.
"You're hurting. I can see it in your eyes. It's in the pinch of your cheeks, the cause of the sweat on your chin and why you're breaths are so short."
I don't care. I'd rather feel what's wrong with me. It's easier this way.
"This is my fault, Jess. I shouldn't have melted under your sweetness and stopped giving you your pain medicine. You look like you've been awake all night. Were you?"
Jess shook his head.
"That the truth?"
No, but…
"Too late, the dropping of your lashes told me everything. Let me give you a morphine shot, Jess."
I can take the pain. Honest.
"Are you sure?"
If I could talk, I'd start giving you the list of all the times I suffered through pain worse than this. Believe me, I ain't a stranger to hurting, real bad hurting. I can take it, and I wanna take it.
"I don't know why you have to be so stubborn."
His finger in a point, Jess tilted his head. Ain't you the same?
"Worse. All right, Jess. You win. No morphine, no sedative, nothing."
Well, that's a relief, except… Jess bit his lip before mouthing her name. Orleta?
"What is it now?"
Ain't there anything else I can do other than stare at the ceiling and get jabbed?
"I think I understand," she said, watching as Jess thrust a thumb toward the roof. "I could get a wheelchair brought in."
Jess' teeth were given a small flash. And taken outta here?
"No. Just out of your room. I can give you a hospital tour. Would you like that? There was a baby girl born at dawn. Caroline Rose Donaldson. You could take a peek."
That wasn't exactly what he had been going for. But away from the white walls? Sure there likely would be other white walls to look at. But away from the hated ceiling? That thought made Jess finally nod.
"Great. I'll be right back." The stern lines of her face growing harder, she peered over her shoulder. "Oh, and don't put either of those feet on the floor until I get back."
Dadgum.
His toes were dangling over the square tiles when he heard the wheels outside of his door. At the bang in, Orleta narrowed her gaze into their sharpest dart to jerk Jess' feet up a couple of inches. But as soon as she stopped the wheelchair in front of him, Jess lowered them all the way.
"What'd I say?"
Jess grinned. Not until you came back.
"All right, you caught me. You can use your legs, but let me guide your upper half into the seat. Wait. Put your robe on first. No need to cause the entire nurse's staff to stampede."
In which direction? Coming at me or running the other way?
She shook her head. "That's one I think I'd rather not define. Come on, Jess, settle into the seat so I can start pushing. That's it. Now, which way do you want to go first?"
He folded his left arm into a crook. Baby, remember?
"You're right. She's a gem, for sure. Her ma has brilliant red hair. When I swaddled her, in my mind I thought of the name Ruby, but I guess the middle name will suffice for the possible shade on top. Rose."
Don't you ever go home?
Her eyes over the top of his head as she pushed, Orleta didn't catch the question mark in the shade of Jess' eyes, but even if she had, something else would get in the answer's way. "Oh, dear."
What's the matter? Jess wondered, following the nurse's gaze to the sound of a man's groan in the room that had just been passed. That fella all right?
"That's Peter Fletcher. Hold on, Jess. I have to tend to him and get one of the doctors if he's having one of his fits."
For a moment Jess kept his eyes on the door that Orleta disappeared behind. When the groans on the other side subsided, he switched his gaze to what was in front of him. While the walls and floor and everything else were just as dull as the inside of his room, there would soon be something to see. He could hear the person coming. Sounding like both feet were made out of wood, Jess leaned forward to watch the entry to the hallway. His eyes were only on the crutches for two seconds before leaping onto the face. It was a familiar one, straight out of the past that Jess had tried hard to forget. While they had never been a part of the same group, Jess had crossed paths with him enough times to know his name, and for this man to know his, and his reputation.
Seeing Jess alone, the crutches stopped their clop right in front of the wheelchair. "Well, now. It is Jess Harper. I've been hearing rumors that you were stuck inside critical care, but didn't believe it until now. My, my. Ain't you a sight?"
Jess barely gave the man a nod. Ken Corbett.
"I'm not such a special case anymore. But they did pay a lot of attention to me the first couple of days I was here. I was brought in for my leg. Got it broke so bad a surgeon had to stick the bone back where it belonged. They say I'm gonna get out in a day or two. Not you, though, huh? I guess I don't have to ask what you're in for, but maybe I should ask, who's the man behind this elongated visit? Maybe I'd like to meet him sometime."
You'd never live through it, Corbett. In fact, you might not live through this.
"What's the matter? Did that ol' kitty catch your tongue and not give it back?"
Leave me alone, Corbett.
It was easy to catch the meaning behind Jess' head toss. "Nah. Not yet, anyway. You're pretty busted up, huh?"
The brain, now that I know you're lacking, but you've got eyes, so use them.
As if he fully understood, Corbett's eyes glided over the bandage around Jess' chest, basically ignored the one wrapped around the hole in his neck, but lingered on the thick wrap that covered his hand. "The talk around the hospital is that you can't use your hand. That true?"
Dadgum, Corbett, why don't you just totter off to the kitchen, or wherever patients eat around here and then burn your mouth shut on some blazing hot soup?
"Let's take a look at it. Come on, Harper," Corbett said, thrusting his hand in front of Jess. "Shake."
I can't and you know it.
"This ain't very gentlemanly of you, Harper. All I'm asking is for a simple handshake. Old friends like us should be able to do that easily."
Leave me alone, Corbett!
"Not until we shake!"
If ever Jess would admit to being thankful that his throat was stuck in silence, it was this one and only moment. As Corbett grabbed his hand, the pain raced through his entire being with such severity that Jess knew he would have never been able to contain it. But then again, if Jess' cry had lifted the roof off of the corridor, someone would have run to his aid, someone would have barked Corbett back to whatever room number he resided in.
The wince still pinching every line tight in his face, Jess turned his head. Where was Orleta?
Grabbing Jess' jaw, Corbett jerked the blue back on his similar shade. "You know what I think?"
Never'd cared to before, so I don't reckon I'm gonna wanna start now.
"With your hand as good as dead, you're about to attract every gunfighter in the west. The moment you step free from these fancy prison walls, they're gonna start coming."
Get away from me, Corbett!
He looked at the boiling expression, but it was someone else causing his sudden retreat. "Well, Harper. I'm sure glad I ran into you. Like old times, right? Except you ain't on the up and up anymore. Old times, remember them, Harper. It's all you have to hold onto, and all the old enemies that go along with them."
Watching him leave, Jess' ears were too full of the heavy clop down the hallway, and the truth ringing louder than any church bell, that he missed the approach behind him. He jumped when a palm slid over his shoulder. Dadgum, Orleta!
"Sorry for the delay, Jess. Mr. Fletcher's all right. He merely dropped his glass of water on the bed and I had to change one of the sheets. Now, shall we go toward Maternity?"
His left hand catching her arm, Jess pointed back to room ninety. No.
"What? You want to go back?"
He nodded. Right now.
"But Jess, I thought…"
Right now!
She obeyed in silence, keeping the quiet among them as she eased Jess' body back in bed. The cringe ran through her entire frame when Jess' eyes bore into the ceiling above him. It was no secret that he hated it. She had tried to pull him away from the room, give him even a brief respite, but Jess obviously didn't want that anymore. What exactly was it that he desired?
Her fingers tenderly cupped his jaw. "Can I get you anything?"
No. Jess waved her toward the door. I wanna be alone.
Orleta nodded, yet she hated to leave. Something had changed in her patient, and while the nurse had been able to read Jess' expression before, now his face was like stone. She walked out of the room without the sparks of blue following. She walked out of the room with the beginning notes of fear.
As soon as the door went shut, Jess was in motion. Throwing the blanket aside, Jess scooted his rear to the bed's edge and dropped both feet down. He didn't care how much he hurt, how weak his muscles in his lower half felt, Jess was determined to be up.
The cold floor underneath him not swaying toward his face as he rose, Jess took a sturdy step and then another. For a moment he stopped. There wasn't anywhere to go. Out the door was his preference, yet Jess was being drawn to the opposite wall, to the square of light. It wasn't that many minutes in his past that he wondered if he could leap through the window glass. Now Jess could leave the thought behind. Room ninety was on the hospital's second floor.
Remaining in the sunlight, Jess started to stare at life beyond the white walls, but the window pane, so clean it shone like crystal, all Jess could see was himself. Finding his eyes, Jess stared into the blue. There was too much fear in that expression, dark doubts and the duller shade that belonged to the unknown.
Hating to see such strangeness in his reflection, Jess changed the direction of his gaze. It didn't take long to land on something else and Jess' fingers dipped into the gouge on his cheek. The scab was dry, and while he gave it an irritating pick, the old blood wouldn't release. Wondering if it would scar, Jess turned his cheek closer to the window pane. It was too soon to tell.
But it wasn't too soon with this place.
"He'll never talk again," said Doctor Ingram, only this time it was the inside of Jess' ears that heard it and not the outside.
Fingering with the bandage on his neck, Jess peeled back the layer of white until it began to unravel and then ripped the padding underneath away. His mouth slightly parted, Jess stared at his neck. Somewhere underneath the red line was what made his voice. He heard the doctor use the word larynx. Whatever it looked like was damaged, swollen, unusable.
Forever?
Ingram claimed it would be. Woodruff had argued it. Right now Jess didn't know which physician to believe. He could only know what he saw, how he felt, and that he was silent, completely mute.
Dadgum.
Needing to view something different, Jess' fingers went along his chest. He knew better than to pull this bandage free, yet he still gave the outlining edge a probing touch. The throb followed the rhythm of his heart, intensifying the more Jess pressed. He would still shrug the ache away. It wasn't the worst.
His hand was.
Looking down, Jess pulled his right hand to be in front of his face. Wanting to see the mark, Jess slid his thumb underneath the bandage and tugged. The pain nearly dropped him to his knees. The inner grit commanding his stance to firm, Jess continued to pull away the bandage. When it let go, the inner grit was no longer in control. Jess did drop to his knees, but not in pain, in shock.
No wonder it was like a fire never experienced before. The wound went through to both sides. Needing to test his fingers stronger than what was assaulting him, Jess' left hand gripped the windowsill and pulled himself back upright. There wasn't much to put in his right hand. Bandages were strewn on the floor, the bedding itself, his robe that was draped at the bed's foot and a pillow. Nothing near the weight of a gun.
The closest thing being the window, Jess reached for the curtain. At the moment his thumb and forefinger touched the thin fabric, Jess bowed over with the pain. Not even the wheeze of air through his clenched teeth could properly declare his level of suffering. It felt as if he were being stabbed all over again.
Shuddering through the last ripples of torment, Jess looked at his harsh mark with fresh hatred. There wasn't any way he could lift a gun. These very fingers might never touch a gun handle again.
Ken Corbett's face suddenly loomed over the reflection of his.
With your hand as good as dead, you're about to attract every gunfighter in the west. The moment you step free from these fancy prison walls, they're gonna start coming.
Jess would have been lying if he said he hadn't thought of that before Corbett spelled it out in such bold lettering. Now that Jess had attempted to use his hand, it was all the more real. How far would they come just to test Jess' gun hand, to discover that it would fail? All the way from Texas, most like. Jess had left a lot of enemies along the way to Laramie. He wondered who would be the first, laughing as Jess struggled to strap the belt onto his hips. Even with the sound of the unnamed man tittering in his head, Jess knew he could take the taunting, could even take the jokes, but Jess couldn't take the size of threats that the opposition would throw.
Because they won't only be aiming at me.
Slim. Jess knew his partner would stand in their way, but there were two more names close to Jess' heart. Daisy and Mike. Could he really go home and offer that kind of life to them, where every day was open season on Jess Harper?
He knew the answer, and it frightened him just as much as knowing that he would never draw a gun again.
Closing his eyes, Jess leaned his head against the windowpane. Since the glass caught the single tear, smudging it into Jess' cheek, maybe it had never been shed. But in reality it was one of many, coursing through Jess' insides like the violence of July's worst thunderstorm.
Sensing his pain from across the hospital, Orleta hurried through the hall, giving the door a smack with the palm of her hand when she saw Jess' hunched condition. "What do you think you're doing out of bed?"
I wanted to know if I could get up on my own. I can. And that tells me what I've gotta do.
"And if you pull your stitches out?"
I don't go squeamish at the sight of my blood. But since I don't see anything bursting, I reckon that tells me more of what I've gotta do.
"Whatever is the matter?"
Everything's wrong. Surely I don't gotta point to the worst. My hand. Dadgum, my hand!
"Jess. I don't like this."
You're a nurse. You're supposed to be against me getting up and such. You should see the way Daisy carries on. Oh, Daisy. I can't make you go through that kinda future, I can't make any of you.
"It's not just that. Something's different in your eyes. What is it?"
I'm up. That's the difference, but I reckon what you're getting at is that I've gotta go.
"Can't you tell me? I know you're not skilled with your left hand, but I could get a pencil and paper and…"
Catching Orleta's chin, Jess rubbed his thumb across her mouth. No.
"Jess, please talk to me. I've offered more of myself to you than I've given any other patient. You owe me the answer."
I reckon you're right, but I ain't gonna say it. Not even to you, I ain't gonna say it.
She stared at him, begging the blue eyes to change back to their brightness. "Jess. Whatever it is, don't do it."
I can't, Orleta. I've gotta get outta this place. I gotta get far away from everything, from everyone. They might even come here. That blasted Corbett's getting out in a day or two. He'll start the rumor. Dadgum. He'll start the truth.
"Jess. Please get back in bed."
All right, but not for long. I mean to do this.
She fluffed his pillow, straightened his blankets and kissed his cheek, purposely close to his eyes to force the lashes down. "You rest, Jess. Once you get some sleep, you'll feel better. I'll be looking forward to our next visit."
He waited until the door closed before he released the sigh. I'm sorry, Orleta. I'll be gone before you come back.
.:.
Hearing the gasp that sounded so much like a cry of pain, Daisy dropped the clean laundry straight to the ground and ran to the porch where he sat. "Slim, what's wrong?"
"I just got this telegram," Slim answered, holding up the single sheet. "It's from the hospital."
"I keep telling you to not worry about the bill, Dear. We'll manage."
"Yeah, there's a price tag at the end, but it's not what's wrong. It's Jess."
Her chest gave a worried thump. "Oh, no."
"Daisy, Jess left the hospital sometime yesterday. No one can find him. He's gone."
She tried to smile, tried to find hope. "Well, he must be feeling well enough to come home, then."
"I don't know, Daisy. I can see Jess busting out of the hospital just as he would a jail cell. But either scenario, I can't see Jess coming home after."
"All roads lead to home, Slim. He'll find his way."
"But what if Jess doesn't feel like this is home anymore? Then the road Jess is on will lead to nowhere. And that's a long and empty place for a man like Jess to be on."
"Oh, Slim. Do you really think that he could?"
"There's something else in this telegram, Daisy. Doctor Ingram said Jess isn't going to get better."
"I didn't ask about his prognosis, Slim."
"I know. But it's important to point out. If Doctor Ingram told me that Jess isn't going to get better, then Daisy, Doctor Ingram told Jess he isn't going to get better."
"Then with that kind of news, Jess really might not come home. Oh, I've had this bad feeling all along! Slim, please, tell me I'm wrong. Please."
Slim slowly shook his head. "I can't, Daisy. With Jess' voice gone, his hand crippled, I really think he could leave us for good. I'm afraid he already has."
Daisy's apron rising, she buried her face into the fold and wept.