Chapter Ten

We sat still for ten days. Slim had originally given us a two week timeframe to mend, but once the first seven days were behind us, I started to fidget. It didn't matter that my head continued to beg for a soft spot to rest against, I was inside, outside, pacing, chafing, even chomping at the bit to get going.

While my body'd made the desire to move rather clear, Slim was the first to put it into words. "I guess it's time we start toward home."

"I'll have us packed up in five minutes."

Of course that'd be rather easy to do. Neither of us had unpacked much since we'd turned the shack into a hospital recovery room. I did shoot a deer the first day I could stay on my feet, though, so I had to get the rest of the meat wrapped before our saddles and gear could be fitted to our mounts. But once our future breakfasts, lunches and suppers were ready to go, there wasn't much left to grab but us.

"Sorry my feet are smaller'n yours," I said as I watched Slim picking at the bloodstains on his boot. "I'd let you wear my polished pair if we were a better match."

"Thanks, but I think I'd rather wear the red one than have my toes pinched tight."

"You know, that's something I haven't asked you about. Why were your boots chucked that far away from your body?"

"He was laughing when he did it. You know the saying about not wanting to die with your boots on, well, Heckard said that should be me. He claimed I wasn't a good enough fighter to die as one that's been on the battlefront, so I might as well look like a man that's been bedridden his entire life."

"Dadgum, and here I thought I'd already built up enough hatred for that fella to shoot him on sight. Now I could put a bullet in him just by smelling him from a far off distance."

"Then you'll have to take some pretty deep breaths, Jess. Heckard's got so much time and space ahead of us he could be hundreds of miles in any direction."

"I know. But you better believe that once we get home, I'm gonna search every inch of the ground until I find his tracks."

Tamping his bloodstained boot in place, Slim stood. "You ready?"

"Have been since yesterday. Or at least that's how it feels."

It felt good to have the saddle underneath me again. Although this ain't exactly the first time my backside's touched leather since Demon whipped me outta his seat. I gave Traveler a coupla trots through the woods while Slim was asleep a few days back. But that was different than today. Then I was just keeping my horse in shape and reminding my muscles how to properly work with Traveler's steady rhythm underneath me. Now I was sitting astride my mount with the right kinda purpose. We were heading home and at the same time, trying to find the route called payback. And that felt dadgummed perfect.

Turning my horse's nose, I gave my hand a wave. "This way, Slim."

"I'm not sure."

"About what? I found a pass off this way heading south. That'll lead us home for sure."

"I know. I was thinking about that town you said wasn't far off."

"That place? It really ain't much more'n a dot on a map."

"That's true, but I'd kind of like to get some information to take with us before we head south."

"Like what?"

"Like if Heckard Channing really got the fifty thousand or not. It should be all over the newspapers if he had."

"I reckon it won't take us outta the way too much to go on over there. Besides, it might be kinda nice to thank Mr. Danforth for seeing that our horses were returned to us. He didn't have to do that, you know."

"I know, especially after he deposited that five hundred dollars in your pocket. So let's head to town, all right?"

"Fine by me," I said and then we both encouraged the hooves to start churning, which made my mind perk up a bit. Dadgum, I ain't gotta pretend anymore. I am getting better. "Say, Slim. How'd Alamo end up at Fern Hill? Although since I don't know the names of these parts, maybe that knob over there's Fern Hill."

"Actually the one behind us is Fern Hill."

I turned to give its greenery a look. "Lots of ferns growing up its side, huh?"

"No. A woman named Fern is buried there."

"Someday I gotta pick up a history book about Wyoming Territory so I can be as scholarly as you."

"I don't think that'll work, Jess."

"Why?"

"Because the true stories aren't usually printed there, including this one."

"Well, are you gonna tell me about Fern or not?"

He nodded, and at the wistful look in his eye, I figured it had to've touched his home, and heart, at some point. And I was right. "My ma knew her. They were a part of the wagon train that came west, but while ma and pa settled near Laramie, Fern wanted to make her future in Montana. She never made it, though, only as far as that hill over there. A sickness took her life."

Our horses stopped, I kept my gaze on the hill. "Not many people that die get their burial places named after them. What made Fern different?"

"There was a small settlement at the base. Not many men, though, as they were working the McGuff mine on the other side of the ridge, so it was mostly women and children left to tend to the homesteads. While it's got a year-round stream flowing through, the land's not made for ranching. That's gardening ground over there. Anyway, it was the mothers and babies that were the sickest. When Fern reached that point in her travel, she could've kept going, but Fern stopped and tended to their fevers. Quite a few of them survived. But because she'd already been weakened on the months-long journey of the wagon train, her body couldn't fight the sickness back. She died. The settlement ended up breaking apart before winter settled in that same year, but the hill remained named in her honor. Since I was close by looking for your trail, I decided to stop and pay my respects to her actions. You know, for my ma's memory of Fern, that is. I guess that's what made Heckard catch up, though."

I swiftly turned. "The shootout was over by that other ridge."

"Yes, but it started at Fern Hill."

"How'd you get that far off?"

"It's not that far off, Jess. Only a mile or two by the way of the hills. It just seems that much farther since a horse can't cover that kind of ground. But a man can, even if he's wounded."

"You were wounded then?"

Slim pointed to his side. "The first shot hit my ribs and blew me out of the saddle not far from where Fern's headstone sits."

"Dadgum. So Alamo did stay where he'd last saw you. The livery man that had Alamo said he was picked up at Fern Hill."

"He ran a bit at first, but I guess he did make his way back there."

"What made you head off toward the rocky ridge and not just fan your hammer at Heckard then? I know if it'd been me, I woulda given him something to chew on in return."

"If we were standing at Fern Hill and not just looking at it from a distance, you'd know the answer to your question. There's no cover there. Sure, a few trees are scattered about, but like I told you, it's gardening ground, only fit for crops, not for dodging bullets. It was getting dark, so I figured I had an advantage of sneaking off through the hill country on foot. They couldn't follow on horseback. By the time I hit the rocks, I heard their hooves approaching so I took cover. But obviously I didn't take cover good enough."

I kept Fern Hill in my gaze a long time. It's true that I couldn't see what it really looked like close up, but my imagination could create the rest of it. And that went further than seeing Slim get dumped outta leather. I could picture the cabins, the women and children working over cornrows and mounds of potatoes, and then one by one they disappeared as they took to their sickbeds. I could also see a brave woman named Fern hovering over them all. But just like a finger's snap over my face, the present day caught up. Well, almost. It wasn't today I was seeing, but a coupla days back when I was the one doing the hovering over Slim. Dadgum.

"Jess, don't you think we should get going?"

"I suppose, it's just that it's kinda humbling to think about how many things play a role in life."

"What do you mean, Jess?"

I lifted my shoulder, although I knew a simple "I dunno" couldn't exactly go with my shrug. I hadta try to explain what I meant and that included a little of how I felt, too. Like I said, humbled. "Well, if all them years ago your ma'd never met a woman named Fern, you'd never have reason to stop by her gravesite and give her a few minutes of solemn respect. That day you were searching for my trail, you woulda kept going north. That means Heckard Channing woulda caught up with you a lot farther away. Since I was lying low in that shack and not out wandering the wilderness that night, I woulda never known about the fight and I woulda never been able to save your life."

"No, I guess not."

I looked back toward the hill, wishing that I could lay a rose on her stone so I could give proper thanks. "I reckon Fern's still saving lives."

"You're right, Jess. I guess what it really boils down to is that everyone has a special purpose in life and that all things, no matter how far back in time it goes, can work out for good today. Don't forget, that includes you in having special purpose."

"Maybe."

"No. Really."

"How can you be so sure?"

"You saved my life, didn't you?"

My mouth lifted with a smile. "I reckon."

"Come on, Jess. Nostalgia's starting to weigh me down. Let's get our horses on the move, otherwise we might not hit that pass you were telling me about before dark."

Time's always got a big appetite when you've got someone to share it with. Even if we didn't talk much after that sentimental stuff tapered off, the journey to town went a lot faster'n I remembered it. But while I wasn't speeding into the widening street with dust spewing high enough to stain the fluffy clouds with the color of the earth, this entry was a lot like the first time. It was quiet. No auction, no parade, no dancing with Demon, it was just a normal, little, hole-in-the-wall.

"Not a lot going for it, is it?" Slim asked as he gave all the storefronts a look over.

"No. But it's got enough."

"Yeah, two saloons and a diner."

"That ain't what I meant and you know it."

"Sure, Jess," Slim said with too much sarcasm laughing on his tongue. "Let's pull up at the newspaper office. It's right over there."

"Gimme a minute to stop at the Post Office to leave a message for Danforth. You go ahead, though. Two of us don't need to buy one newspaper."

That minute was used up rather fast. I ain't all that equipped when it comes to letter writing and such, especially when I'm trying to figure out how to say thanks without going overboard. Mush ain't exactly my kinda way of speaking. That's why I was still standing against the Post Office's outside box with a pencil's tip stuck to my tongue when Slim walked up.

"Jess."

My eyes barely gave him a glance, but seeing the obvious agitation that Slim wore, my eyes snapped right onto his. "What's the matter? Ain't the army reported about the money being gone yet?"

"Yes, but surprisingly, that's not what's adorning the front page."

"Oh yeah? What is?"

"You."

"Me!"

Pulling the paper out from underneath his arm, Slim flipped the fold open. "It's got your picture on the front and it's definitely not one of your best."

"Dadgummit," I said as I tore the page outta Slim's hand. "Who'd take a picture of a dead man?"

"Don't know, but the article clearly states that you aren't a dead man after all. It even suggests that you must be related to Lazarus or somebody alike."

"Well, I ain't. At least I don't think I ain't!"

"Calm down, Jess. I didn't tell you this to get you riled up over how pale your picture is."

"Then what'd you bring it over for?"

"To show you what's above your headline. Look. This article isn't from the local newspaper right across the street at all. Oh, there's a stack for sale, all right, but this particular one's printed from the Denver Post, which means several other newspapers have likely printed it too. Maybe even the Laramie Gazette."

"I still don't get it, Slim. I don't care what the Laramie townsfolk'll say about me being on the front page. Besides, everybody knows that I'll just give them a piece of my fist if they say anything about how bad I look to my face."

"That's not it, Jess. I'm thinking about Heckard Channing. Because of this, not only does he know you're alive, he knows exactly where you've been."

"You think he's gonna come looking for me to finish me off?"

"He might. Since he thinks I'm dead, you're the only one that could possibly make any connection to him robbing that payroll. While it mentions him as a possible suspect, the army doesn't have any evidence to pin his hide to the wall."

"We do."

"Yeah, and if Heckard assumes you'll eventually read a newspaper, he'll be afraid you'll figure out the real reason you were sent packing and ride straight to the nearest fort."

"I could do that. I ain't no tattletale, but I sure like to see some fellas get what's coming to them. And Heckard Channing needs what's coming to him."

"That he does."

"Did the paper say when he got the money?"

"Six days ago."

I turned to look over my shoulder. "If he's gonna be coming for me to shut me up, he oughta be real close by now."

"Yeah."

"What're we gonna do, Slim? There ain't no sheriff in this town."

Slim pulled his gun away from his hip. "We've fought without the law before. And won."

"Ain't you forgetting? You didn't do so well against him and his cousin before."

"Of course I didn't forget. But you're with me now."

"My reputation gives you a puffed out chest, is that right?"

Slim smiled. "Yes and no. While your ability to make a perfect aim does add some hope to my mix of emotions, what I'm really thinking about is something my pa taught me a long time ago. Two are better than one, Jess. That's the reason why Heckard and his cousin were able to pound all those leaden nails in me. Now that advantage won't be there."

"Yeah, but that goes the same for us. We'll just be matched. There won't be an advantage on either side."

Slim's smile grew wider. "Yeah, there is. I've got you and your reputation. Heckard's scared of that, remember?"

"So all I gotta do is get him in my sights."

"Sounds simple enough."

"But it ain't, not when we don't know when he's gonna meet us, where he's gonna meet us or if he's gonna meet us at all."

Slim gave the town another glance. "Come on, Jess. Let's get out of the wide open scenery and go into the saloon for awhile."

"Which one?"

"You mean to tell me you haven't tried either out before?"

"Nope. But if one's called The Drifter's Paradise, don't expect me to go in there."

"One's called Horsetail the other is called The Loose Caboose."

"That last one sounds fun."

"All right, we'll go there."

I put my hand on Slim's chest to still his steps. "Nuh-uh. I ain't looking for the kinda fun that gets me into trouble, so we're heading over to Horsetail."

Apparently a good number of the townsfolk shared the same thought about which whiskey mill to mill in, for the bar had several men leaning against its rail and most of the tables were full. Down to the far corner, I inched passed a man scented with yesterday's bottle of rum or as I gave a second sniff, maybe those bubbles belonged to the day before. Dadgum, why is it when he gaped at me with his puffy eyes that I had a shivering thought that a week or two back, I coulda been looking in a mirror?

The bartender rubbed his towel in front of us. "What'll it be, Gents?"

"Beer," Slim said, but I stopped him before he held up two fingers to show the bartender that he was gonna order for us both. "What?"

"Maybe I oughta stick with something softer."

"You'd gag on a sarsaparilla."

"I reckon. All right, gimme a beer, but if I start to guzzle it, drag me outta here real fast. I don't wanna look like…" I stopped, as the same fella that I was about to describe was right alongside me again. In fact, it wasn't just the drunk pressing in tight, but the entire room felt like it had come closer. "Dadgum, why's everybody looking at me?"

"You're famous in these parts, Jess. Remember you're on the front page of the newspaper and likely every other newspaper in the territory, too."

My head bent low. "Dadgum."

"Your beer, Gents."

"Thanks," I said, and in a rare twist of events, Slim took a long drink outta his mug before I even brushed my lips across the foam of mine. Of course I was being careful to not down the whole thing at once, but it kinda made me self-conscious having that fella practically hugging me.

Instead of wrapping both arms around, he gave my chest a soft tap and let his grin grow from ear to ear. "Mister, you look like you've been taken right outta the pages of the Bible."

"Bo, leave the customers alone."

He tilted his head toward the bartender. "But I just wanna get a longer look. It ain't everyday that Lazarus's great-great-great-great-great-great grandson comes to call."

"All right," said the bartender, rather begrudgingly if I might add. "But make it quick. I wanna get paid for the beer and not have it get flung in your face before they drop their coins down."

My lips licked free of the foam, the next shape I made them was a frown. "You want something from me, Mister? Bo, is it?"

"Yup. You look better than I last saw ya."

"Thanks, Bo. I feel better, too."

"Great."

I took a sip of my beer. At least he didn't say great five more times or my sip mighta stretched to five more myself. Then I woulda needed a brand new beer. Dadgum. And here I'm supposed to be watching what I drink so I don't become a replica of Bo.

"What's it like over there?"

I looked around. "Over where?"

"You know."

"No, I don't."

"On the other side of the Jordan."

"I don't know anybody by that name."

Slim gave me a nudge. "Jess, he means heaven."

"Oh. I didn't go there."

"Awwww," Bo said, giving his head too many shakes. "So you went down there. Your poor, poor soul, burning—hic—until you ain't nothing but a lump of coal."

"No," I said, giving my head a single shake. "I didn't go there either. I didn't die."

Someone slapped Bo on the back. "Don't you remember, Bo? We only thought he was dead."

"Nope. I don't remember. Course I don't remember much each night when I lay my head down to sleep no how. I don't even remember that fella that was in here yesterday asking for ya. Or maybe that was today."

My beer forgotten, I grabbed Bo's arm. "Someone was in here asking about me today?"

"Mighta been yesterday. I already told ya I don't remember."

"Was his name Heckard Channing?"

The bulging, red eyes turned to Slim. "That's a funny name. I'd remember that. Who're you again?"

"Slim Sherman."

"Don't know you neither."

"I'm Jess' friend."

"Sorry." Bo's mouth forming the shape of a belch, he let it rumble rather loudly. "I don't know Jess at all."

Fist formed, I smacked it against the bar's top, sending more'n half the bubbles on the top of my beer go tumbling over the rim. "I'm Jess!"

"Oh, right, right! You're Lazarus' kin."

"No, I ain't. But never mind that. Do you know Heckard Channing or not?" I didn't realize I'd shouted my question until I heard the echo coming off the back wall. I reckon every face that wasn't looking at me before was looking at me now. I dunno if I blanched or reddened up, but I did start to chafe. There was reason, for someone was beginning to move in the back of the room.

"He might not," said a man that was carefully placing his poker hand onto a table. "But I do."

His winnings pocketed, the man scooted his chair back and walked to the batwings, eyeing me, eyeing Slim, eyeing us both with each step. His elbow popping them open, he walked through the double doors and outta sight. It didn't take long after that for his horse to go galloping by.

"Jess," Slim said close to my ear.

"Huh?"

"That's the cousin."

My eyebrows shot up high enough to kindle a fire in my brain. "I know him, too. That's Curtis, one of the fellas that had a hand in kicking my teeth in. Dadgum, if I woulda known he was sitting back there, I woulda put more'n a hard right in his jaw. Now look at him! He's too far outta reach."

"As fast as he's going, I bet he's taking the news of us being in town straight to Heckard Channing."

The tingles along my spine running rather rapidly, I stared at Slim. "Do you realize what you just said?"

"What part?"

"Us."

"What about it?"

"As in me and you. Heckard left you for dead, remember? Now he's gonna know you ain't really gone."

Slim slowly nodded. "That's right. I'm not gone. And not forgotten."