Chapter Five

It musta been about an hour, now.

The fireplace had been reduced to a crackle, spitting the remnants of the logs I'd tossed in the center. I'd needed to build it up so the knife could lay over the hottest flames, preparing it for what I was about to do. While I stood there watching the licks of orange dance back and forth, I knew there wasn't anything that could prepare me for when it was time to take up the handle. And that was only the easy part of what was coming. I'd still have to hover over Slim's flesh with the blazing tip. I'd still have to cut into him.

Yeah, it musta been about an hour, now.

I looked at his face. No longer pinched and tortured while I was digging at the lead, the lines around each eye and at his mouth were quiet. He seemed to be resting peacefully. My hand instinctively reached out to sit atop his chest. That felt better too. Dadgum, there'd been some moments while I was working on him that I didn't think he was gonna take another breath. But even while the raspy sound in his throat tore at my soul, I kept fighting that lead. I kept fighting for Slim's life.

I reckon this steady rhythm under my hand tells me that I won.

"Dadgum," I said, but then my lips barely parted far enough for the thanks that shoulda been given immediately after the second bullet rolled to the floor.

A chill tickling the hairs along my neck, I turned toward the whisper of wind coming through the window. Night was coming on quick. Since I didn't want that chill to turn into the kinda shivers that made a man's teeth rattle, I stepped outside for another armload of wood. It was a good thing I'd landed inside a stand of timber where there were plenty of fallen limbs to pack in. Without an axe, I mighta been forced to take the shack apart, board by board so I could keep the fire glowing.

My load relieved by the fireplace, I picked out the thickest piece and set it in the middle of the coals. A bubble of sap responding to the heat, it popped with the sound of gunfire. Not once, but twice. While the blasts burned my ears, I knew not to draw my gun, but I reckon somebody lost in darkness wouldn't know not to let his hand search for his piece of security.

"You. Don't move."

The voice so low, so unfamiliar, it was strange that I hadta look around me as if somebody else were in the room. It was Slim. Seeing his hand feeling for his hip, I slowly walked to the cot. I kinda wondered if he was stuck in a dream someplace. Oblivion ain't built for comfort. Sometimes its pitch black, but other times another world exists there. From this angle, I couldn't quite tell if Slim was stuck in a frightening scene or if his eyes were really trying to open. I took a step closer to be sure.

"I said, don't move."

"Slim?"

"I'm warning you, I'll…"

"Slim, can you hear me?" Seeing a flicker of blue, I leaned over his face. "It's me, Jess."

I saw his lips test out saying my name before he put any sound to it. "Jess?"

"Yeah. I'm right here."

Both hands coming up, they crashed into my chest, the thrust up rather powerful for a man that'd come close to dying. "Get away from me. Get away!"

My breaths in a frightened heave, I jumped back, staring at his reddening cheeks. "Slim? What's wrong?"

"I don't want you near me."

"I ain't Slim. I'm stepping back," I said, proving it by inching my feet toward the fireplace. "See. I'm way over here."

"No! I want you to leave my ranch and never come back."

"I did Slim."

"Ride out of here! Go on, get!"

"Sure, Slim," I said, and since my backpedaling had taken me to the door, I reckon I oughta go through it before his words did more'n push me out. But then something garbled in Slim's throat. Coughing a coupla times, I watched as his head tipped to the side. "Slim?"

He was outta it again. Since anger usually sustains a man when he's got an enemy in the room, I reckon it was the pain that pulled him under. I wished he would stay where it was quieter, where only darkness lived. More importantly, where Slim couldn't see me.

Unable to walk through the door, I went over by the fireplace, banked it enough to last the night and then sat against its stony edge. It was warm there, yet I still bunched my legs toward my chest as if I needed to ward away a chill. I reckon there was an icy blast in the room. Even with Slim unconscious, the shivers of winter were blowing from his top.

I sighed. And with it came the heavy burden I thought had gone.

Ever since I found him this morning, I'd forgotten about him kicking me outta his life. The reason my heart'd been hammering so loudly wasn't for my sake but for Slim. I was afraid my best friend was gonna die. Yeah. Before this moment right here, all day long, I was watching out for him, tending to him, caring for him like a brother would and then this moment hit right here. It hit me so hard it exploded inside my chest, running the entire course of my body until every part of me shook. It even woke up the bruises and made my fingers probe the lumps around my head. But I reckon feeling that throb all over again was rather useless. I reckon I'd still feel the pummeling for some time, but being beaten close to death by Heckard Channing wasn't worth remembering anymore. It was all Slim's doing now. His words pierced deeper than any bullet could reach, going straight through my skin and bones to wherever it was my soul lived. In a way, Slim Sherman had just killed Jess Harper. I never thought it possible, but how could I deny the truth anymore?

Dadgum, Slim really did hate me.

My lashes had been kinda low but I let them drift up enough so I could look across the room to the cot. "I just wish you'd tell me why."

The way my temper can ignite, you'd think I'd give him the same kinda venom he snapped at me with instead of laying my words over him with the softness of a baby's blanket. I reckon that's because I don't share the same emotion. I don't hate him. Not during any of this did I ever hate him. I was angry, yes. Hurt, yes. Confused, too. But I never hated him for doing this to me. The way my heart lurched nearly outta my entire being when I saw the three pools of blood, that was enough evidence in my being to know our brotherhood still existed. Yeah, I know, Slim's cut me off in the worst way, but no matter what, I reckon I'll still be holding onto my end of things. Even if someday the span stretches to where there's hundreds of miles between us, there'll still be one pard where once there was two.

Another sigh pushing through my lips, I forced my head to bob into my chest and my lashes took a downward flutter. I didn't figure I was gonna sleep much, but I also didn't figure that I wasn't gonna drop off at all. I was just getting in a cozy position when my body responded to a noise somewhere and my hand instinctively went to my gun.

"Jess."

Eyes wide, I jumped to my feet. "Slim?"

"Jesssssss."

The ending note of my name came off his lips like a hiss, but not like a rattlesnake's menacing call. This was made outta pain, pure pain, and I hurried to his side. "It's all right, Slim. You'll make it through fine."

"Jess."

I knew he was hovering over the dark line between real sleep and unconsciousness, but if I could just offer my hand and he'd take it, dadgum, I'll pull him outta there so fast he'll never know he was ever a victim of this nightmare. "Talk to me, Slim. Let me help you."

"No, no. Stay away, stay away!"

"What'd you do if I said no?"

"I'll kill you."

He went silent then. The way his body flinched toward me, I thought he was gonna come outta the dark and punch me in the nose, but his thrashing head went still, showing me he dropped into the kinda slumber where nothing was known, nothing but black.

Unable to move, I stood there, staring at Slim. I tried to tell myself he was only sleeping, that he was stuck in that awful place some folks called pain fever. I tried to tell myself that whatever he said wasn't to be believed. But it was too real. Even with his eyes shut, it was too real.

A nighthawk completing its piercing call, my eyes went to the hole in the roof. Through the higher canopy I could see some dots of stars but what I was really looking for was a line of silver. The leaves wearing enough of a shimmering shawl to know the moon would be a guiding light for me, I walked outside and put my hand on Traveler's neck.

"I'm glad you can't feel this loss, Son. You might wonder why we've entered the Big Open again, but you ain't mourning over it, are you? I reckon one of us's gotta keep the hard head, huh? Well, come on, let's get you over to the creek awhile. I reckon I could use a drink myself."

I kinda shook my head at that one. Wasn't it just two nights ago that I'd drowned myself in a bottle of sorrow? Here my tongue was salivating and it ain't for a handful of water coming to my lips. Like a dadgummed barfly, I wanted as much whiskey that would make me float away all over again.

Well, since I ain't standing in front of a saloon, I reckon I'll have to settle for water. Kneeling at the stream, I took a coupla swallows outta my palm. Surprised at how dry I felt, I lowered myself further and put my mouth directly into the stream. While my face was dipped in, I didn't notice Traveler's head swinging over mine and when I came up, my hat clipped his nose and dropped into the creek.

"Dadgummit."

I gotta have my hat. It's almost the same as keeping my iron on my hip. As it was already taking a twirl toward a little falls, I knew I had to get it quick or the increased pace in the water's flow would take it outta sight. One boot in the stream, I balanced the rest of me on a rock and leaned toward the cascade. Just as my fingers made the catch, my body started to slip. The splash was a lot bigger than I reckoned it'd be. Dadgum. This ain't just a shallow stream, gurgling over some rocks. It's a literal pool!

My body raining worse'n that old cats and dogs saying, I flung some of my drips toward my mount. "Dadgummed ornery horse. Look at what you made me do, and I only take baths on Saturdays! Sure I ain't got the smell of a rose, but I ain't ready for a pigpen yet."

Making a lotta noise coming outta the water, I watched as Traveler made an abrupt turn away. Following his retreating steps, I grabbed Traveler's bridle and held on. "Nah, don't balk. I ain't mad at you. Just letting out some steam is all. For sure I ain't gonna walk away from two friends in the same night."

The nuzzle between man and animal complete, I gave Traveler an extra pat and felt a smile take shape. "That's a good fella."

I reckon this is how it's gonna be from now on. Just the two of us. I know that ain't the worst thing. Some fellas fare far worse in this life. Dadgum. They're some men I've come across in all my wanderings that only have one set of clothes to wear and their only highlight of the day is sniffing through the garbage that gets tossed outta a restaurant's backdoor. My pockets might have more lint inside than cash, but I'm far from becoming a bearded old coot, all because I still had someone to stick by me.

"That's a good fella," I said again. "I know you ain't gonna desert me like Slim did. And even though he mighta turned into a cow-patty the size of Texas, I reckon he'll have the same in..." For a full thirty seconds my mouth hung open. "…Alamo."

I dunno why it took me so long to notice. Where was Alamo? Giving a look toward the cabin, I made sure there wasn't any sound coming from the corner cot and then leapt into the saddle. Walking the stream's edge for about three miles, I crossed at a shallow bend and then aimed for the rocky ridge where I'd found Slim. With terrain like this, there had to be more water flowing outta the highland where a horse could stick close to, but I also had the thought that a faithful companion just might stand watch over the last place he saw his master.

All I found was the stains of blood, though. And Slim's boots. I'd kinda forgotten about them, discarded like they were. I dunno if the red'll ever be able to rinse outta the leather, but I figured they'd do better on Slim's feet than his socks would and I added them to my stack of gear.

The moonlight mighta been sufficient enough to see clearly enough that I wasn't about to step into a hole or smack my face into a boulder, but looking for Alamo's tracks was gonna have to wait for sunrise. Listening for a different stream than what I'd already searched, I found a little trickle coming off the ridge. That was as far as I was gonna follow it, though. It came straight down and then disappeared into the ground. But even though it wasn't much to look at, this was enough water to satisfy a horse's needs.

Hearing teeth munching at the ground, I watched Traveler's silhouette. Since he'd filled up on his liquid needs a coupla minutes before, Traveler bypassed the water hole and walked to where his other needs were met. The thick grass getting pulled and snipped, chewed and swallowed, a frown settled over my features. It didn't make sense. With a decent patch of grass this close to where Slim landed and a steady supply of water almost the same distance away, shouldn't Alamo be right here?

Yeah, there were a lotta gunshots that'd send a skittish horse skittering, but Slim didn't raise Alamo to run at the sound of danger. He'd stand strong and steady, the same way I knew Traveler would if it'd been me fighting the bullets last night.

That was when I turned toward the cluster of rocks where the men that put all of those bullets in Slim had crouched. Maybe they took Alamo. They'd shot Slim, left him to die, so why not add horse thieving onto their wanted posters?

Anger sending a flash of light over my vision, I stormed to where the casings were scattered and knelt toward the ground. There ain't no way I'm gonna wait for daylight to search out their direction. I wanted to get inside that trail right now, for I reckon I owe them for something more'n just horse thieving.

My fingers lining the shape of a shoe, I quickly saw where the other'd stood, but the route they'd taken out was gonna be harder to detect. All along this stretch of ground was solid rock. There might be a layer of dust that had settled after they went through, but there ain't gonna be a visible trail. I was gonna have to use instinct, tap into the corner of my brain that thought like an outlaw, that knew how to lie and deceive.

The choice made, I eased Traveler through a tight section of rocks and then as it widened out a quarter mile later, my senses were in a constant search to know if I'd chosen right. Hearing a waterfall I went to it, but nothing had stopped for a drink at its pool except for a doe and her fawn. Keeping to the same path, I noticed the incline. The ground was naturally softer here. If a horse had made the climb, there'd be something left underfoot. Off of Traveler, I bent toward the soil and nodded. There were tracks going through here, all right. But as they overlapped, I couldn't say for sure if there were more than two.

Reins in hand, I stayed on the ground until my steps were no longer hard to take and as the path leveled out, I saw a clearing ahead. Not too wide, but I could see by the shadows that it was a real cut through the hills. Going a north-south direction, the pass must be pointing travelers the way to Montana. It was harder to guess exactly where the south section would take someone. A lotta towns were scattered that way. I reckon it was just nostalgia nudging inside my brain, but I thought of Laramie.

My shoulders given a weak shrug, I decided on looking toward the south first. As daylight was starting to play with the eastern sky, I no longer had to hover my nose across the soil to find their trail. They'd gone south. There was something else I noticed in this view. There were only two horses, and as they were side by side, but not exactly sharing the same rhythm, I knew one horse wasn't leading the other. Alamo hadn't come this way.

I still had the urge to follow. I didn't have answers in any of this and it was a painful nag against my being to have it stay that way. If I could just pin one knowledgeable body up against a rock with my fist ready to indent an already ugly face, I could at least find out why Slim was left to die. That image too satisfying to leave inside my brain, I hurried Traveler toward the south.

Come noon, just as I was starting to feel the itch that I was getting close enough to pull my gun, I ended up leaving it sitting in leather. The itch died just like that and in its place was a feeling that the trail'd gone cold. There was a river here, wide and rather lazy, and while I knew if they made it across I could do the same, there wasn't any sign that they'd gone swimming.

For a mile I hugged the bank and then turning around, I followed the opposite direction twice as long. I found a dozen places where they coulda gone in and I even picked a coupla to try out myself, but there was nothing on the other side that proved I was right. They were gone.

The frustration sitting high in my chest, a growl couldn't help but push itself even farther up and burst through my lips. I'd really wanted to make this catch, but coming across a dead end, I was gonna have to give up. A moment ago my grumbling had seemed to match my mood plenty, but as that air began to wither, I realized anger wasn't what I felt at all. Disappointment musta been one step away from sorrow and unable to carry on after those men took me more'n one step. I reckon I fell right over the edge, landing in a gloomy pit. This'd been the last thing I coulda done for Slim before I left forever. And right here said it was over. No more could I fight for him. Offering a return for the lead that'd been put in him was done. All I could do was go back emptier than how I'd come.

No, that ain't quite right. I've got Slim's boots with me. But when I give those back, well… Never mind. A man that ain't supposed to cry has a reputation to keep, even if there ain't a soul around to see the tears fall.

I slowly rode back to the cabin. Prolonging the inevitable, I'd imagine, although my mind wasn't studying how many minutes I might have left in Slim's presence. I didn't really have much going on up there. The quiet, dadgum even nature seemed rather hushed at the moment, but it was the stillness inside of me that testified how I felt, even more what I feared. When I started chafing, I wondered if all this silence was going against me. Maybe I could go so far as to say it was my own enemy. I ain't sure of that, though, but there was one certainty ahead. My own enemy was there inside the cabin.

I knew he was awake the moment I stepped in. He was still flat, as all three wounds woulda had the strength to hold him down, but I noticed the difference right away. Gone was the sound of sleep and in its place were the breaths of anger. With the turn of his head, he directed that heat straight at me.

"I see you're hard of hearing. Or are you just stupid?"

"Stubborn," I answered.

"I know what you are. You're scum."

Maybe. But stubborn fit me better, especially right now, because I wasn't backing out just yet. "In case it matters at all, I don't feel the same about you."

"I don't care how you feel. I just want you out of here. Go!"

"I thought we were best friends. Partners, even. Wasn't it just at Christmastime that I called you Pard for the first time? It's used in Texas quite regular, but I ain't ever called anyone Pard except for you."

"We're not partners. I couldn't be partners with a snake-in-the-grass like you. And now that I know what you really are, I'd never call you anything close to friend."

I wished his words coulda been ignored as easily as I pretended. "I brought you your boots. I thought maybe you'd rather not get your socks dirty. The Widow Evans might patch up the holes, but I reckon she ain't gonna wanna boil the likes outta them first before she takes needle and thread in hand."

"How many times do I have to tell you to get?"

"Fine, Slim," I said, setting the boots onto the floor without a noisy clop to not stir his pot even more. "Whatever you say. I'll go."

"You better. If I see your face one more time, I'll shoot a hole right through it!"

I almost let him. Standing in the doorway, my feet not turning in either direction, I knew I was tempting his threat. The longer I stared into those cold eyes, I was hoping there'd be a sudden change, that this new iron will of his'd break all apart. But that wasn't the truth. His threat to killing me was, and I had to peel my gaze away from his face because something was happening at his hip and I had to see for myself that it was real. Slim's fingers weren't just feeling for his gun, they was starting to clutch the handle. His thumb was even rubbing on the hammer. In one more second, he was pointing the barrel right at my heart. And I almost let him pull the trigger.

Then I'd be gone.

And very much forgotten.