CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Slim half carried, half dragged Jess into the house, as the barn collapsed behind them in a shower of flames and disintegrating timber. Fortunately, there was little wind so the main house was not in any danger. He eased Jess down on the bed in his room.

“Hang on, Jess, you’ll be all right.”

Jess lay back on the pillow and closed his eyes as dizziness washed over him. Slim dug out Daisy’s nurse’s satchel, and went to work on him. Using a cloth wrung in cold water, he gently wiped the dirt and blood off Jess’ face, and cleaned the cut on his temple. The bleeding had slowed, but it would need stitching again. He eased him out of the torn, bloody shirt, but when he tugged at his gloves Jess’ eyes shot open, and he let out a yelp of pain, pulling his right hand protectively towards his chest.

“Let’s have a look,” Slim said, and gently took hold of the injured hand. The glove leather had split where Tyrell’s boot had connected with it, and Slim could see the hand was badly swollen. He found a surgical knife in Daisy’s medical supplies, and with infinite care he cut away the remainder of the glove.

“It’s busted, ain’t it?” Jess’ voice was no more than a whisper.

“Looks like it,” Slim nodded. “How’d it happen?”

“Tyrell,” Jess said wearily.

“Doc Collier’ll have it fixed up for you, Jess,” Slim reassured him. “It’ll be good as new in no time.” He moved on to the bullet wound, and caught his breath as he examined the torn, bloody skin. Tyrell’s blow had split it wide open, leaving it ragged and bleeding, with swollen, angry red edges. He gently maneuvered Jess over on his side, and swore when he didn’t find an exit wound.

“The bullet’s still in there.” Slim shook his head, and put a hand on Jess’ forehead; he frowned at the heat he found there. “The wound’s infected, and you’re running a fever. Jess, we can’t wait for the doctor, you’re losing too much blood; that slug needs to come out before it does any more damage.”

Jess looked up at him through long, dark lashes, his blue eyes shaded black with agony as he held on to his right hand. He tried to find his voice, but in the end he just nodded. Slim rummaged through Daisy’s satchel, and silently blessed her when he found a bottle labeled “Laudanum.”

“Be right back, Jess.” He headed for the kitchen cupboard, and took out the bottle of whiskey they kept there, for ‘medicinal purposes only,’ as Daisy was wont to say. He poured a half glass, and added a liberal dose of the narcotic to it.

“Here, drink this,” he said and slipped a hand under Jess’ head for support. “It’ll ease the pain some.”

Jess gulped down the concoction, grimacing at the taste.

“Hell of a…way…to treat good whiskey,” he groused, and closed his eyes.

Slim eased his head back on the pillow, grateful for that small glimpse of humor. He went back to the kitchen, and set a pot of water on the stove. While he waited for it to boil, he wandered aimlessly around the room. He had dug out a good many bullets in his time, but the thought of the ordeal ahead left him cold. Jess had saved his life when he took on Lou Coulter, and he had given him nothing but contempt and rejection in return.

For a brief moment Slim allowed himself the luxury of admitting how much the wellbeing of the wounded man in there mattered to him. The realization that Jess could die at his hands swept over him, leaving him desolate. He shook his head, and turned to the stove. When the water boiled he poured it into a large basin, and carried it back to the bedroom.

Jess regarded him wearily; the laudanum had taken the edge off the pain, and he felt weighted down and drowsy. Slim disinfected the knife with some whiskey, and looked questioningly at him.

”Ready, Jess?”

Jess nodded faintly, and bit down on the leather strap Slim placed between his teeth. Slim looked at his own hands for a moment, saw them shake. ‘Come on, Sherman, this won’t do at all,’ he thought grimly, and deliberately shut his mind to it. Sweat breaking out on his brow, he bent over his friend. He met Jess’ gaze, and with a stab of pride he read the implicit trust in the painclouded eyes. He slid the knife into the wound, and for Jess the world exploded in a shower of agony, red waves becoming white hot flares, and then, mercifully, cool, forgiving blackness.

*****

Doc Collier came out of the bedroom, and gently closed the door behind him. Slim stood at the kitchen window, gazing out at the waning day. The setting sun slanted its rays into the kitchen, dust motes drifting in the light. Daisy had insisted on returning to the ranch with the doctor when Mort Corey told her about Jess. Collier had assured her that Mike was in no danger, and his wife promised to look after him until they returned.

She had a fresh pot of coffee on the stove, and silently poured the doctor a cup.

The doctor sat it down by the sink while he washed the blood off his hands. Slim turned to him, a wordless question in his eyes. A question he was afraid to ask. He cleared his throat and tried to find his voice.

“Doc?” It came out as hoarse croak, as if he had spent the last few hours yelling at the top of his lungs.

Collier hunched his shoulders as he dried his hands on the towel Daisy handed him. He picked up his cup of coffee, and sipped gratefully at the strong, black liquid.

“Please tell us how he is,” Daisy entreated, wringing her hands.

Collier gazed at them over the rim of his spectacles, and then slowly shook his craggy, graying hair.

“As it stands right now, he could go either way,” he replied. “I’ve immobilized his hand, it is broken and pretty well mangled, there may be some nerve damage, but given time it should heal. But he’s lost a lot of blood, he’s weak, exhausted…I’ve given him something for the fever, but if there are any complications at all he won’t make it.”

“Dear God,” Daisy whispered. She sank down on a chair, and folded her hands tightly in her lap.

“I should have waited for you, Doc” Slim said savagely. “If I hadn’t taken that bullet out…”

“Hold it, Slim,” Collier said sternly. “If you hadn’t removed that slug when you did he’d be dead by the time I got to him. As it is shock and loss of blood has pushed him very close to the edge. I don’t know if he can pull back from it…” He paused, carefully weighing his next words.

“I don’t know if he wants to.”

“What do you mean?” Slim asked, startled, wondering if he had heard the doctor correctly.

“Slim, Mrs. Cooper, there’s no spark left in him,” Collier said quietly. “If he doesn’t put up a fight there’s nothing much anyone can do for him now.”

ooo0ooo

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The impact of the doctor’s words rocked Slim to the very marrow of his being. He could not, would not, accept them. He saw Daisy looking at him, her eyes wide with shock. Doc Collier put his coffee cup down, and turned to Slim.

“Listen to me,” he said gently. “That man in there has just been pushed too far. A being can only take so much physical and mental abuse. Oh, I’ve heard all the stories about him in town. I know about the Tyrells and their quest for revenge. Any way you look at it, he’s killed three members of the same family. Unavoidable, and in self-defense to be sure, but the fact remains that young Matt Tyrell’s father and two brothers are dead because of Jess. Then there’s the stage holdup, Mike getting shot, your barn being burned down… Slim, he’s at the end of his rope!”

“Hurd Tyrell never gave him a chance,” Slim said, “he wanted blood, and by God, he got it.”

His hands shook as he tore at his rumpled hair and tried to steady his voice.

“How can we help?” Daisy asked quietly.

“He needs a reason to go on, Mrs. Cooper,” Collier replied as he packed up his medical bag. “Right now he’s having too hard a time living with what’s happened to put up much of a fight. Nothing seems to matter to him anymore.”

“Is he conscious?” Slim asked. “Can I see him?”

“I’ve pumped him full of painkillers, so he’s pretty woozy,” the doctor replied. “But sure, you can go on in, just don’t take too long.”

Slim slipped quietly into the bedroom. Jess turned his head on the pillow and gave him the ghost of a smile. The doctor had stitched up the cut on his forehead, and a neat white bandage encircled his chest. His right hand lay immobilized by a splint. His face was pale and haggard, with dark shadows under his eyes.

Slim was reminded of the time he had first clashed with him, down by the corral. He recalled the impression of barely banked violence, but as he gazed down at Jess now he thought that the lone, hungry wolf had finally been tamed. Tyrell had succeeded in that respect, it seemed.

“Hey there!” Slim said softly, the words catching in his throat. He sat down on the edge of the bed. “How d’you feel?”

“Like the…tail end of a stampede,” Jess said weakly. He made a visible effort to remain coherent. “Slim…Matt…is he all right?”

“He’ll be fine,” Slim said with an assurance he didn’t feel. He recalled the young man’s grief-stricken face, heard the harsh words as he bent over his father’s body. “Don’t worry about him, Jess.”

“I wanted to…to tell him…” the words slurred into an unintelligible mumble, and Slim had to lean close to catch them, “brothers…couldn’t let him…shoot his own…aah!”

Jess groaned as a wave of pain caught up with him. Slim put a hand on his shoulder, wanting desperately to help him.

“Easy, Jess, easy.”

“The barn, Slim…” Jess gasped, “Is it a total loss…?”

“Forget the barn!” Slim said sharply. “It can be rebuilt.” He looked searchingly at the wounded man. “You’re the one needs rebuildin’, Jess, Johnny Tyrell’s bullet pretty much had your name carved on it.”

“I’m tired, Slim,” Jess whispered. He closed his eyes wearily. “Tired of runnin’…killin…”

Slim grasped his uninjured left hand, and squeezed it tightly. “Jess, you can’t just give up,” he said intently, “that’s not your style. You’ve got to hang on!”

His friend’s slender, still figure didn’t move; Jess had passed out. Slim held on to his hand as though his own life depended on it.

“Damn you Jess,” he whispered hoarsely, tears burning his eyes. “You can’t quit on me, you hear? I won’t let you!”

*****

“Slim, I have an idea,” Daisy said eagerly when he came out of the bedroom.” Doctor Collier agrees it’s worth a try. We’ll move Mike in with Jess and they can recuperate together. I think it’ll do Jess a world of good to have him close by. Give him something else to think about.” She didn’t want to say the words ‘give him something to live for’, they hurt too much.

“They can mend each other,” Collier nodded. “Mike’s presence should be a healing influence. He could prove the reason Jess needs to turn the corner, Slim.”

Slim helped himself to a cup of coffee. His hands shook as he clutched it, like a drowning man grasping at a straw. ‘It’s a good idea,’ he thought, ‘it might be enough to draw Jess back from the edge.’ He prayed that it was.

“When can we move Mike back here, Doc?” he asked.

“Oh, tomorrow, I should think,” Collier said. “If you rig your buckboard with some blankets and pillows, I’ll have him ready for you in the morning.”

He gathered up his gear and his hat. It was a long drive back to Laramie, and it was already getting dark outside. Slim walked him to the door.

“I’ve left some medicine with Mrs. Cooper,” the Doctor said as he climbed into his buggy. “He’ll probably stay under ‘til morning, but in case he comes around, keep him quiet. Can’t risk the bleeding starting again.”

“What do you really think, Doc?” Slim asked as he handed him the reins.

Collier shook his head. “It’s up to Jess and the Good Lord,” he said gently. He shook the reins, and Slim watched silently as the buggy rolled out of the yard. He leaned back against the hitching rail, and gazed up at the sky. There were no stars out, and the moon remained hidden by dark, gathering clouds. The wind was getting up he noted, as some tumbleweeds went spinning by. It was turning into the kind of night it had been when Jess had shown up riding topside with Mose.

Rubbing at the tension in his neck, Slim reflected on the events of the past few weeks, and how much their lives had been disrupted by the arrival of the drifter with a shady past and ready gun.

He thought of Lou Coulter, gunman and hired killer. Instead of collecting a reward from Hurd Tyrell he had ended his days on Laramie’s Front Street, cut down by the lightning fast draw and unerring accuracy of Jess Harper.

Slim shivered as he thought of the ruthless single-mindedness of old man Tyrell. He had meant to destroy them all before he killed Jess. Matt Tyrell had taken the bodies back to Laramie and after the inquest he would take his father and brother back home to Bowdrie for burial.

Slim wondered what went on in the man’s head. How did he really feel, deep down, about the man who’d practically wiped out his whole family? Was it finished, once and for all, or would the ghosts come back to haunt them all? He kicked angrily at the porch stoop, torn with concern for Jess and frustrated because there was so little he could do to help him.

“You keep kicking the stoop like that, and you’re liable to bring the whole house down,” Daisy said with a slight smile as she joined him on the porch.

“I looked in on him, Slim” she said, seeing the questions in his eyes. “He’s out for the count. Whatever Doctor Collier gave him will keep him quiet for the rest of the night.”

“I’ll go pick up Mike tomorrow morning,” Slim said. He put an arm around her waist and walked with her back into the house. “He can have my bunk. I’ll use his room until Jess… until they’re back on their feet.”

ooo0ooo

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