Chapter Twelve

He woke with a groan. The farther Jess waded out of the darkness, his mouth parted as if trying to recreate his screams, but only a silent cry came through. Another gasp tearing through his lips as Jess rolled over, his hand gingerly crawled across his stomach.

It obviously wasn't the greatest needlework ever created. Blood still seeped through some of the knots, but the pain had come down a couple of degrees. Not his hand. Lifting his arm to put the lacerations right over his face, Jess stared at the jagged cuts. He couldn't tell if it was the knife's design or what had come from the Gila monster's teeth. All he knew was that the throbbing was just as severe as when the creature was clomped onto him.

"Dadgum," he said, stretching to ease the kinks from how he had slept. But then Jess suddenly remembered why he was on the floor, head nestled close enough to the bars as if he had used the iron rows as a pillow. "Slim!"

He waited for ten grueling seconds with only the sharp in and out of his breaths playing with his ears.

"Slim? Can you hear me?"

He tried to wait longer, but if it really had stretched longer than ten ticks, he didn't know. Not bothering to count them out, Jess only knew that the silence was torturing him worse than everything that the doctor had done to him.

"Slim!" Jess' arm reached through the bars, gripping only air, but somehow he thought he was feeling a soul slip through his clasp. "Answer me, Slim!"

"He's not there anymore, Son."

Jess' face smashing against a pair of irons, he could easily see the weathered face of his next door neighbor. "How do you know?"

"I watched them cart him out."

"Is he dead? Did they kill him? So help me, God, I'll pry these bars apart with my teeth if they did!"

The wrinkles shook harder than the actual gesture. "No, Son. He ain't dead. They just moved him."

"Where?" Jess asked, his hand suddenly jiggling a lock that would never bend. "I gotta get to him."

"You won't be able to. Not ever."

His hand went still, as did everything else within him. "Where'd they take him?"

"The other side of the prison."

Lashes lowering, Jess' anger faded a notch. "Well, that ain't so bad. It's not solitary confinement anyway. The way you sounded so desolate and all, I immediately pictured an iron box with no more holes'n what a mouse needs to breathe through."

"That might be an easier punishment, that is, where close friends and family are concerned."

Jess' tremor was straight out of winter's harshest blast. "What do you mean?"

"They separated my son and me. I haven't seen him in…" pausing, he held up both hands, pulling a finger into his palm for each year. He would only have two left extended. "Eight years."

"You mean to tell me you're in the same prison, but you haven't seen your son in eight years?"

"That's about it. Now, they don't mind so much having close neighbors converse like this is between us right now, but Hermiston and his cronies don't like prisoners hollering to each other down the hall. Like you and Sherman were doing yesterday. That's what separated me and my boy. I couldn't see his face, but I liked to hear his voice, you know? But they didn't."

Jess' fist hit the wall. "I didn't know. Dadgum!"

"It ain't your fault."

"Yeah it is. If I wouldn't have been so blamed weak and let my pain roll outta my mouth again and again, this woulda never happened."

"From what I was watching them do to you, Son, there ain't any power in any man that could've kept that kinda pain in. I'm surprised it didn't kill you."

Jess looked down at his stomach, fresh blood squirting out of the stitches as he angrily heaved each breath. And this wasn't the only part of his body that had seen a killer's attack. The Gila monster had done its part, the doctor, maybe he was the worst of all. It was true that he had survived everything up to this minute, but now? Being separated from Slim in this place was something that could really kill him. And the way Jess felt inside, his death had already begun.

They might not have been close neighbors where they could see each other, but inside the same corridor of cells, the connecting line remained. They could talk, feel the emotions that came out of their souls and even when they were sitting in silence, the knowledge was enough that the best friend, brother and partner that they depended on wasn't all that far away. And now every part of that had been cut off. Slim was gone.

How any hunger could exist underneath his stitches, Jess could only shake his head over, but then again, it was that very rumble that was pushing a little hope out of his middle and into his heart. "Hey, what about mealtimes? Surely they gotta feed the prisoners over there, so we can always meet up then. A coupla minutes a day's better'n nothing anyway."

"No, Son." His head moved in a sorry shake. "Meals are served thirty minutes later for those on the other side."

The ache in his body went right out through his teeth. "I won't see Slim again, will I?"

"You might," his neighbor answered, the smile small, but there. "If you ever get out."

Jess shook his head. "I've been given sixty years."

"That's not what I meant," he said, darting his eyes back and forth to make sure there wasn't going to be a guard's sudden approach. "There's always a prison break out here, Son. Almost every week someone tries."

"I know. I saw the graves out front. Had to dig one myself yesterday," Jess said, giving his stomach a gentle tap. "That's how all this got started."

"Some do get out by being carried."

Sighing, Jess offered a nod. "Maybe I'll be one of them."

"That ain't what I mean," the man answered, reducing his voice to a low enough whisper that Jess had to lean his ear as close as possible to the bars so he didn't miss a word. "Look, just wait for the time to be sprung, and go."

"If it's so easy, then how come you've never broke free, then?"

The sadness wandered across his every feature. "I wouldn't go without my boy."

Understanding made the same shadows drift across Jess' face. "I reckon I couldn't go without Slim, either."

"You know, it's kinda strange to be sitting so close, to be sharing similarities like we are and not know who you are or what you've done. What's your name, Mister?"

"Jess Harper. And let's just say I've done nothing."

"Davey Bragg. And let's just say I have done something."

"I didn't reckon everyone else is innocent here."

"That's kinda hard to believe, Jess. Yuma ain't meant for innocent men."

"Tell it to the warden," Jess snapped, but watching the man begin to hunker down as if the harsh tone out of Jess' throat was mimicking a whip that he must have seen before, Jess softened his tongue. "Forget about me, anyway. Tell me about your son."

"My boy's name is Deuce," he answered, finding a chuckle from the far depths of his throat when he saw Jess' eyebrows jump in surprise. "I'll tell you why. It got kinda confusing in the early years him having the same name, and since I never liked Junior as a full title, we called him Deuce instead."

"How much longer you gotta serve here, you and Deuce?"

"We both got the same sentence for bank robbing. Let's see…" Hands back in front of him, Davey counted on his fingers, multiple times. "We were here three years before they split us, eight years apart, so nine more."

"Twenty years. That's what Slim's been given."

"It might not be that long. For him, or for us. Like I said, there's an attempted breakout quite regular. Men, at least the tougher set, can't take it here."

"I know what you mean."

"You're that kinda fellow."

Jess stared at the eyes that seemed to suddenly grow a spark. "How can you tell?"

"You survived what the doc did to you, didn't you?"

"I reckon."

"So watch and listen, Jess. Watch and listen and it just might happen for you."

"Do you watch and listen?"

"Every day, Son."

"But you haven't heard the right sound yet."

"Nope. But I'll tell you, if Deuce ever gets in line to go, that's when I'll take off, no matter what sound I hear, even if its rifle fire from the inside."

"That sounds closer to suicide if you ask me."

He shrugged. "Like I said before, some do get carried out. What's it matter if we get carried out together?"

Jess' lips parted, ready to answer with the same phrase when Slim offered the warning to not let this place force Jess to tear his own heart out, but then this next thought, a fearful one, pushed through his mouth instead. "How do you know Deuce's still alive?"

"Every time someone goes out on work duty, like you did yesterday, I ask whose name's getting chiseled. This time Timbo told me there was no Davey Bragg, Jr."

"I wouldn't trust anything outta Timmy's mouth."

"You could be right about that. But I'll take my chances. A man needs some hope, right?"

That was the only truth that Jess could still hold onto. Hope. Such a short word, so easy to speak when things were wrong, when things were growing worse, but it wasn't so easy to feel. As Jess looked at Davey, it was obvious by the slumped spine, the lips that moved with a silent plea, that his hope wasn't all that strong anymore. Jess understood this emotion very well. One moment there was a sure belief, the very next, there was nothing but despair.

At least he had something to offer to bring the better moments around again, at least until the call for work duty was sounded for the next burials.

"Davey."

"Huh?"

"I read all the names yesterday. There ain't no Davey Bragg, Jr. out there."

Closing his eyes, Davey's wrinkled hands clasped together. "Thank you, Son. I needed that."

"I reckon before our time's up, we're gonna need some more of that."

Letting his lashes rise, he searched for the blue through his mist. "Jess."

"Yeah?"

"Hang on."

All he could do was nod his head.

.:.

He woke with a groan. The farther Slim waded out of the darkness, his mouth parted as if trying to recreate his screams, but only a silent cry came through. Another gasp tearing through his lips as Slim rolled over, his hand gingerly crawled across his head and gave a bald spot a pat.

He must have shaved in his sleep or was a victim of a mouse needing nesting material. Mercifully Slim couldn't remember a single second of the hallucinations and that it was his own hands tearing his hair out. He couldn't even guess why his throat ached, especially when he didn't feel like he had a cold coming on. But there was something to feel. An eerie sensation was clinging to him like a heavy cloak. And no amount of shucking was going to rid him of it.

Yawning, Slim gave his head a shake and the cotton that had been stuffed between his teeth shifted to his brain. "Where am I?"

With several prisoners turning his way to give him a bewildered stare, Slim rubbed both eyes and then gave a clearing blink. Of course he knew that he was still in Yuma, but now that the blur had been removed, he could tell that something was wrong. It was true that everything looked the same, from the dingy cot to the bucket that held his waste. Yet the difference was so stark, fear began to shake him so hard that he rattled. It almost made him remember that part of his living nightmare. Almost. Another memory was going to crash into him first.

"Jess?" Silence his return, Slim increased his volume. "Jess!"

"Quiet down there!"

Face pressed into the bars, Slim waved toward the guard. Strange that it wasn't Moose or any of the regulars that paced up and down the corridor. "Sir, please. Come here."

"What do you want?" He asked, pointing at the bucket in the corner. "Waste doesn't go out until Monday."

"I know that. But I need to know where Jess is. Where've they taken him?"

"For all I know, you're the only prisoner that's changed quarters."

"Why? What've I done?"

Hand into his pocket, the guard pulled out a piece of paper. "You're Slim Sherman, correct?"

"Yes."

"It says here that as a troublemaking prisoner, you are to be assigned a new cell," he answered, looking at the bars from top to bottom. "Looks like you made it."

"A new cell? What about Jess?"

"You don't hear very well, do you? I said you were the only one assigned a new cell."

"He's still in number twenty-two, then?"

He gave a mocking handclap. "Looks like you've figured it out."

The cotton in his head jumping out of his ears, it was replaced with a throbbing ache from one end of his brain to the other. "Where am I?"

"You're in cell number five, all the way in the last row of the prison. That's where we put the troublemakers around here."

"Oh, no. Jess and I can't be separated. Please! You've got to talk to the warden."

"Sherman. This comes from the warden. I guarantee that nothing will change his mind."

"Please!" Slim begged, going so far as to clutch the guard's uniform in his hands. "Tell him I apologize for causing trouble. I won't act up again. I swear!"

He slapped the fingers away from his hem. "Too late, Sherman. Once you're assigned a cell down this way, you never go back to the normal rows."

"But…"

"Nope. It's done, so quit complaining."

"I'm not," Slim said, trying to level the tremble in his voice. "I just want to know if you'd do something for me."

He laughed. "Like I said, waste doesn't go out until Monday, even if you're sick. And by the looks of you, you're sick!"

"That's not it. Look, it's not that big of a favor. But please listen."

Eyes rolling, he almost walked away, but then Slim's hand caught his wrist. "All right. Speak."

"Can you get a message to Jess for me?"

"Like what? That you can't come to his Sunday social after all?"

Irritation rising, Slim's grip on the guard's arm increased. "No!"

Gun out and in a point, the guard smacked Slim's arm with the butt end. "Now I see why you're labeled as a troublemaker. No favors. No messages. Nothing. You're stuck here, Sherman, for—How long's your sentence?"

"Twenty years."

"Then that's how long it'll be before you see anything other than this hall and the dining room."

"Wait. Can't I see Jess at mealtimes?"

Again he laughed. "Nope. This end of the prison eats at different times. Troublemaking prisoners don't belong with the model prisoners."

"You call some of those men over there model prisoners? One of them sliced my partner's stomach open with a shovel!"

"I wouldn't know about that, or care. Sorry, Sherman, I've stayed in your space long enough. There are other prisoners to tend to other than you."

The guard walking away, Slim's arm wildly waved in his direction. "Wait!"

As he disappeared into another section of the prison, Slim sunk to the floor. His headache felt like he was pounding his skull into the bars, but he was merely resting his forehead against one of the irons. The rest of his body was close to lying down, defeated, beaten, and more alone that he had ever been.

Would he ever see Jess again?

It had never been said between them during the early days of being imprisoned. However, it had been felt. They counted on each other being there, if for nothing else, just having the knowledge that they were in the same corridor together. But Slim took this thought even further. Maybe it was all the years bringing up Andy that made Slim want to take on the similar role with Jess. He wanted to look out for him, protect him, and while Jess would have never admitted it aloud, Slim had sensed that Jess needed this too, that he needed Slim's presence.

"And I let him down," Slim said, as tearfully as if there really were rivers on each cheek. He must have been silently sobbing, for Slim's body began to rock back and forth, making the bars softly clank.

"You're new down this way, ain't you, Mister?"

Lashes lifting, Slim searched for the voice. It was his neighbor to the left. "I must've arrived in the night. I don't remember any part of it."

"Oh," he said simply, as if he knew something Slim didn't, or something that Slim wouldn't want to know.

"I didn't know they'd do this to us."

"None of us down here knew what was to come. It just came."

"We can't be separated, we just can't," he whispered, soft enough that only his ears should have picked it up, but still his neighbor heard.

"There's something to perk you up."

"Nothing could. Nothing."

"Since you were asleep longer than nightfall, you missed the mailman walking through. He only does that once a month. Makes for something to look forward to."

"I bet it does."

"You missed your deposit."

"Huh?"

"You've got mail," he said, pointing to the envelope on the floor.

Hurriedly taking it in hand, Slim's heart was given a thump as he saw the return address being the ranch. His fingers shook as he slid the envelope open and pulled out a single sheet. It was as if he already knew there wouldn't be something to ease his pain. He was right.

The soulful eyes bore into his. "Bad news, huh? I bet your woman's left you for another man. That's what happened to me, anyway. But I shouldn't blame her. What good am I to a wife in prison?"

He was reluctant to share the news with a stranger, with someone who really belonged behind bars, but without Jess, he needed someone to talk to. Slim finally cleared his throat and nodded. "It's not a woman. This is from Jud, a friend of mine. He's working on the ranch I own. He says that the sheriff and deputy in Laramie are missing."

"Where's Laramie?"

Slim hoped he hid his stunned expression fast enough. "Wyoming."

"Tell me about it, Laramie, I mean. I've forgotten what everywhere else looks like except for here. I've been here eleven years already."

He understood. While out on work duty, Slim had spent the minutes of his resting period merely staring off into the barrenness that was around him. It didn't matter which direction he looked. There were literally miles upon miles of the same muted shades. After a long enough time with nothing but that image to print over one's mind, the rest of creation could easily be forgotten.

Reseating himself so that the bars were no longer his support, Slim rested against the shared wall. It would be easier to talk that way, so he didn't have to make his voice anything above a whisper, just in case a nosy guard would come snooping their way.

"The town's not all that special. I guess it depends on who's looking at it, though. The town council and mayor would likely boast it up a great deal, but me? My eyes stray farther than what the buildings show. I like the mountains, the hills, the streams with fish waiting to jump on a line."

"Sounds right pleasurable. If I were there right now, I'd pick the stream. Then I'd take my boots off, prop up on a log and laze the day away."

Slim thought he had been struck in the chest. It was almost as if his neighbor knew what kind of picture to put in Slim's mind. Jess, their first meeting, what that chance encounter would become, and his lashes crashed hard. "Oh, Jess."

"Is that the friend that's missing?"

He shook his head, but the emotion couldn't be tossed aside. "What? Oh, no. Sheriff Mort Cory and his deputy, Wiley, are missing."

"Does the fellow writing say what happened?"

"No. Nobody has found any sign of either of them. Of course the letter's two weeks old, so I don't know what's been happening in the meantime, but at the time Jud sat down to write it, they both had been missing for ten days."

"Sounds like Laramie's gonna go wild with saddletramps and alike."

"No. Laramie's mayor sent word to another lawman down in Denver, Lon Matthews. He's coming up to wear the star again. Since this is two weeks old, likely he's already there by now."

"I reckon you'll understand that I'm not much into lawmen and alike. I'd rather hear about the pleasantries instead. Jud say anything about the ranch?"

"Huh? How'd you know about my ranch?"

"You told me."

"Oh. Sorry. I guess my mind was on Mort and Wiley." And Jess.

"That's okay. That's okay. Just tell me about the ranch. I need more pictures, you see?"

"The house is small, the pay not so much better, but the land is good. My mother described it something straight out of the Psalms. Perfect in beauty, God shines forth. Something like that. But from a man's point of view, the hills are green, the sky seems to stretch out forever, the snow settles over everything like a blanket from autumn to spring, there are rocks and crevices, caves to explore. I guess the best word to describe it is home."

"Thank you. I can kinda see it. Maybe I can feel it a little more. Home."

Slim breathed a deep sigh. "Me too. It really hasn't been that long ago, a month maybe, since I left. It seems like years, though."

"Yuma doesn't care about time."

"Yeah."

"What else can you tell me about the ranch? I mean, if you're here, how will it keep going?"

"Jud and Ben, that's another fellow working for me, are staying on it, at least to the extent that a pair of older fellows can. They sold all of our cattle like I asked. All they're doing is holding the place together until Andy, that's my little brother, gets out of school. Then I'll let Andy decide what to do with the ranch."

"He won't sell it, if that's what's got your brows furrowed so tight."

"I don't know. My foreman used to say that Andy sees things differently. His knothole view looks out toward towns, the hustle and bustle of where people are going and why. He's always done his duty on the ranch. But I don't think it's what he really wants. Oh, he'll keep it going, but only out of duty. But I'm afraid his heart won't be in it. I don't want another life tarnished because of me."

"You've tarnished some lives before this, have you?"

"Yeah. Mine." He lowered his head, viewing only the floor. Only the blamed floor! Where, oh where were Jess' blue eyes? "And Jess' life."

"You said that name before, but you haven't told me yours. Care to?"

"It's Slim. Slim Sherman."

"Just call me Deuce."

"Deuce. Isn't that kind of different?"

"According to my pa, it's better than Junior."

"I'm a Junior."

"Do they call you that?"

He smiled. "No. Slim."

"So there you have it," Deuce said, doing his best from his angle to view the slumped shoulders. "You really are down about that letter, ain't you?"

Slim tapped the envelope against his leg. "It's more than the letter."

"That Jess you mentioned before. He must be more than a friend. Is he dead?"

"No. At least I hope not. They said he was going to make it, but I wouldn't believe anything these guards say."

"So he's here in Yuma, then."

"Yeah. Jess and I were sent to prison together for a crime we didn't commit. And now they separated us. I don't know if I'll ever get to see him in this hole again."

"That's what happened to me and Pa. He's somewhere in here. I haven't seen him in eight years."

"Eight years?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry," Slim said, shaking his head, for his entire body felt the need to tremble. "Eight years. That just proves that I'll never see him again."

"There are ways out."

Again Slim's head was given a spin. "Not that way. I don't want him carted out. Me either."

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what?"

"There's always an escape attempt out here."

"I couldn't do that," Slim answered, but then his thoughts immediately jumped to Jess' mind. Some said it was always dark in there, so dark that not even the stars could shine. "But could he?"

He started to shrug, but then Deuce leaned as far as the bars allowed. "Slim."

"Yeah?"

"Hang on."

All he could do was nod his head.