No Replacement
A Laramie fanfic By Badger

Episode: The Replacement (late Season 3)
Missing Scenes: When Slim leaves to go to town for the confrontation with Jess and the other Rebels, Daisy is left at the ranch with her fears for the 'family' she has grown to love
Category: Angst
oOoOoOo ------------------ oOoOoOo

Daisy watched from the kitchen window as Slim saddled his horse. Slowly, his footsteps as heavy as if his boots were lined with lead, he walked with the animal up toward the porch. She watched his approach and then, squaring her shoulders, she hurried outside to meet him. She tried hard to keep the worry from her face, but even as she made the effort to smile, Daisy knew she was failing. Still, she didn't think her face could possibly look as grim as his. He looked torn in two - Jess was like a brother to him, and Mort, well, Mort had been his friend since the war and in the days when they'd ridden together in Kansas and been part of the Adobe Wells vigilante incident. And now he had to take sides and stand with one against the other.
It was all so terribly wrong.
Reaching out her hand, Daisy put it on Slim's arm, her mouth too dry to utter a single word. It didn't matter that she didn't say anything, she knew that. There wasn't anything she could say that would make this moment any less heart-wrenching for either one of them.
Their eyes met and then Slim patted her hand where it lay on his arm and nodded down at her. "We'll be back," he said softly, his voice sounding dry as dust. With a final glance at the house, and then back at her, he turned and swung aboard Alamo, spurring the horse out of the yard and toward town.
'We'll be back,' he'd said. Daisy held onto that thought as she watched him ride away, taking his words as a promise. She could only pray that it would be true, that both her 'boys' would come back to the ranch. He'd said 'we,' and she knew Slim wouldn't have said that without meaning it, but she knew it wasn't only up to him. It was up to Jess, and to Mort, and to those other men, and mostly, to fate itself.
oOoOoOo
It was one of the longest days of her life.
Daisy busied herself with every chore she could think of so she wouldn't have time to dwell on what might be happening in town. It didn't work, of course-- she couldn't stop herself from wondering and worrying. Desperately, she tried to banish all the dark images that insisted on popping up inside her head. She had to keep busy or she would go mad with worry.
Once Mike was up, Daisy helped him with his chores and then put him to work peeling apples for a pair of pies. That was a hopeful act, making pies, because apple pie topped with a slice of cheese was Jess' favorite.
Jess would be there this evening to eat it, she told herself.
oOoOo
As the morning dragged slowly past, Daisy tried not to keep looking at the clock, but she couldn't prevent her eyes from straying there over and over again.
"What're you waitin' for Aunt Daisy?" Mike asked, noticing her frequent glances at the timepiece on the mantle.
"Oh, I'm just, just, watching." Too distracted to think of anything better to say, she struggled for and failed to find an answer that would satisfy the boy.
Thankfully, Mike answered the question for her. "I bet you're waitin' for Slim to bring Jess home. I sure do miss him." He frowned. "Everybody's awful sad when he's not here."
Daisy forced a smile for the boy. "Yes, it's not the same around here without Jess."
Mike nodded. "Even Slim's been sad, and sorta grumpy, too, but maybe that's just because he's got all the work to do. I know he's missin' Jess, just like me and you are. I just wish Jess would finish his business in town and come home."
"I'm sure we'll be seeing him soon, Mike," Daisy answered. If only she could hear Slim and Jess squabbling again, fighting like mis-matched brothers, it would be the best sound in the whole world. "Now, let's get this pie finished, so it will be waiting for them."
"A welcome home Jess pie!" Mike proclaimed it.
"I hope so, Mike," Daisy added quietly, trying not to raise the boy's expectations. "But we don't know for sure that Jess will be coming home today. We can hope so, but we'll just have to wait and see."
"I know he'll be back, Aunt Daisy. Slim always says Jess can smell your pies from miles away." Mike was still smiling. "This is his home. He belongs here, with us."
"Yes, he does," she agreed, hoping that Jess realized it, too.
oOoOoOo
The hours crawled slowly by, the hands of the clock on the mantle seemingly stuck in place. Daisy filled the time with baking bread and then chopping vegetables and slicing up left-over roast beef for a pot of stew that she put on the stove to simmer. She took Mike out to the garden and they hoed and weeded the plants until every row was as neat as a pin. Then she heated water and started doing the laundry.
"But Aunt Daisy, today's not wash day," Mike objected, puzzled.
"Well, today I've got time to do some extra washing," she told him, brushing back the stray strands of hair that had escaped from her usually neat bun. "And without Slim and Jess underfoot, we're going to get lots of work done." She took down the curtains and washed them, then decided to start in on the bedding next. Stripping the sheets from Jess' bunk, underneath it she found a stray dirty shirt, one of the light blue ones he favored, worn and faded. She picked it up and held it in her hands, feeling tears welling at the corners of her eyes as the strain of the waiting finally overwhelmed her. Would she ever see him again? Would he return to the ranch, or would his friendship with Slim be shattered forever if they faced each other over their guns? They were such strong, determined, stubborn men, could they get past where they now stood, on opposite sides of this conflict? Would one of them be hurt? Or, God forbid, be killed?
She didn't understand how this had happened. Daisy was sure she couldn't be so wrong about Jess, to think that he carried so much hatred inside of him that even after all these years he was willing to shoot Paul Halleck in cold blood.
Six years it was now since the war was over. She knew about the horrors of the war; she'd lost her own son, and yes, it had been hard, but in time she had been able to forgive. Did Jess have that much forgiveness inside him? She believed he did-the Jess she knew and loved did. True, she'd only lived here on the ranch for less than a year, yet somehow it seemed like Slim, Jess and Mike had always been a part of her life.
Slim had told her once about Jess' early days on the ranch, back when he'd been fresh off the drift and years of living on the edge of the law. Slim said he'd settled a lot since then, even Jess admitted that was true and most days, he seemed proud of how far he'd come and of the solid life he'd built here in Laramie.
Daisy was no fool - she knew Jess was no angel, she knew that he'd done some dark and ugly things in his life, but they were things he regretted now. She firmly believed that he'd turned his life around. He was a good man who knew he had found something priceless at the Sherman Ranch.
She was a good judge of character, she reminded herself. She wasn't wrong about Jess, she couldn't be. He couldn't cold bloodedly gun down the new deputy.
He couldn't throw his new life away.
He wouldn't.
And yet, if she was honest with herself, these past few days had shaken that belief.
She wished she could talk to him about what was happening, look into his eyes when she asked him why he was doing this, hear his own words explaining his actions. But then, knowing Jess, he'd simply give her that look she knew so well, the one that was determination and regret and sorrow all tangled up with manly pride, and he would be hopelessly unable to find the words to explain himself.
But if she could only look into his eyes she'd know if somehow the darkness of his past had reclaimed him, overwhelming him and drawing him back to his old life and his old ways.
Choking back a sob, Daisy laid his shirt carefully on the bed. Jess would be back to wear it again. He would. She could let herself believe nothing else. And yet, she had believed with all her heart that her son would return from the war. She had been sure that fate could not be so cruel as to take her only child from her.
And she'd been wrong.
Could fate be so cruel as to destroy her second family, too?
Picking up the shirt, Daisy shook off her gloomy thoughts and resolutely carried it and the bedding outside. She dumped the items into the tub of wash water, scrubbing them up and down the wash board until her hands were red and her shoulders ached.
While the clothes dried on the line and the endless minutes of the fateful day dragged on and on, Daisy dusted and swept every inch of the house until it was spotless, and then she dusted and swept it all once more.
oOoOoOo
It was nearly suppertime, the sun low in the western sky when she finally heard the sound of hoof beats in the yard. Daisy's throat constricted and her heart began thundering in her chest, and she found she suddenly couldn't bear to know, so much so that she couldn't make herself look out the window to see who was there. Was it one of the boys, Slim or Jess? Or both, praise God? Or was it Sheriff Cory, come to tell her that they were hurt, or worse? No, she ordered herself firmly, she wasn't going to let herself even consider any such thing. They were all right, all of them, Slim and Jess and Mort and even that new deputy, too, the one all this commotion was about.
Her boys were both coming home.
There could be no other outcome.
That was the way it had to be. She couldn't lose this family like she'd lost her first one.
She picked up the spoon and began vigorously stirring the stew, the rich scent of meat and potatoes and onions drifting upward from the pot.
Behind her, the kitchen door slowly opened, the hinges squeaking slightly, the sound of scuffing boots and jingling spurs signaling that someone had walked in.
Her hand stopped, the spoon raised above the simmering stewpot. It was as if all the air had been sucked out of the room and she couldn't breathe.
She had to know, and she didn't want to know.
The single second of silence lasted a lifetime.
Please Lord, let them both be here, she prayed silently.
"Daisy."
That was Slim's voice, and Daisy raised her eyes in a moment of silent, fervent thanks before turning around to look at him. He looked tired, but she was relieved to see that he had no apparent injuries, no bandages, no bullet holes.
Quickly, he moved to her side and bending down, wordlessly hugged her tightly. Her hands patted his back, and then he released her and straightened.
Already she was peering around him, out the door, her expression both hopeful and fearful.
She heard the scuffing sound of more footsteps, hesitant and unsure.
And then Jess was there, pausing in the doorway as if he wasn't certain he was welcome inside, his hat in his hands, his eyes downcast and refusing to meet hers. "Daisy," he said in his gruff voice.
"Oh!" her hand flew to her mouth, and then she stepped forward, throwing her arms around the prodigal son returned. A look of surprise flashed across his face, and then he was hugging her back, so tightly it seemed to her as if his very life depended on holding on.
She hugged him a long time - she knew he needed it as much as she did. Finally, Daisy felt him take a long deep breath and let it out slow and then he lifted his head and pulled back, his eyes still not willing to meet hers.
She kept her hands on his arms, reassuring herself that he was truly there and real and whole, her gaze tilted upward to study his face.
"Daisy, I, I --" he stammered and stopped and couldn't go on.
"You're back, both of you. That's all that counts." She stated matter of factly, looking over at Slim, and then up at Jess, smiling at one and then the other.
They were here.
They were home.
Her family was intact.
oOoOoOo
That night, after stew and apple pie and only after Mike was tucked into bed, they gathered in front of the fireplace, and Jess began to talk.
His voice shook as he told them about the prison camp, every dirty, ugly, horror-filled detail, about the suffering and the dying. About holding tight to Andy Bishop as his best friend slowly died from an infected wound. About Seth Johnson growing weaker day by day, inexorably starving to death. About Danny Pellman one day just lying down and giving up, refusing to eat or drink and drifting silently away in his sleep, wrapped in his threadbare blanket. About Cal Ellis, who used to go fishing with Jess when they were boys down in the panhandle, coughing desperately until he couldn't draw another breath into his pneumonia-choked lungs.
It was like he could see it all again, smell the rotten stink of the place, the stench of death and despair; see the dirt and the filth and the gaunt, hollow-eyed faces; hear the moans of the dying, and the silence of the dead.
In a voice raw with emotion he told them about digging graves for his friends with his bare hands. About cutting a single slice of hard, mold-riddled bread into five pieces and sharing it among the last remaining survivors from that ill-fated patrol. About being alive only because he'd been too sick to go with the others on the last fateful escape attempt where Knute had failed to kill the guard and the re-captured men had been marched back-well, at least those who had survived the guards' murderous volley of gunfire.
About wondering which one of them would die next.
About wondering whether the dead weren't actually the lucky ones.
About letting his hatred be the thing that kept him alive.
He poured it all out to them in a voice that shook with the horror of it, even after six years. They were things he had never told anyone, things he hadn't let himself remember or think about in all that time. Things he had long buried in the deepest, darkest corners of his mind, except when they awakened him in the night in the throes of vicious nightmares that left him sweating and shaken.
As he talked, Jess didn't look at them, he couldn't. He stared into the fire, his fingers knotting and unknotting even after he was done and silence held sway.
The crackling of the flames was the only sound until he heard Daisy clear her throat, and her soft, gentle hand was laid over his restless ones.
The comfort of that simple gesture tore his breath away and brought tears to his eyes. Overcome, Jess lunged for the door and hurried outside to the porch, gulping in the fresh, sage scented air of Wyoming.
After a moment, Slim followed him outside. The tall man paused to stand silently beside him, waiting until he was sure that Jess was okay.
"Thank you for telling us," Slim said softly. "I know it wasn't easy."
Jess looked up into the night sky. "I still wonder why I lived, and they died," he muttered in an agonized voice.
"All of us who were in the war wonder that, Jess."
The cowboy was quiet for long moments. "I lived and they died, and I reckoned I owed them for that. That's why I did what I did."
Slim didn't have an answer, he just patiently waited for Jess to say what he needed to say.
Jess' shoulders slumped. "I'm thinkin' I'll ride out in the morning."
"Well, that'd be a darn fool thing to do."
Jess stood stubbornly silent.
Slim sighed. "All right. If you really want to go, Jess, you go, you know I can't stop you. But don't do it because of me, or because of what happened in town today. I've forgiven you before and I reckon I'll have to do it again but that's the way life is. And Mort, well, he didn't throw you in jail, so I reckon he can forget it, too. He's a pretty fair minded man. And Daisy, she'll forgive you almost anything. But Jess, this ain't just about us forgivin' you. This is about you forgivin' yourself, and none of us can do that for you."
Jess' voice was filled with regret and heavy with sadness. "Then I guess I'll move on."
Slim had only one card left to play, one last hope to trump Jess' stubbornness. "I didn't think you were selfish enough to turn your back on Mike. And Daisy."
"I'm not turnin' my back on 'em!"
"That's exactly what you'll be doin' if you ride away from here," the tall man answered vehemently. "That boy in there, he doesn't care what happened six years ago - the war is ancient history to Mike, somethin' he'll read about in his school books some day. He only cares that we're here for him now, that you're here. He's already lost one family, he doesn't deserve to lose another. And Daisy," Slim paused, fighting down the anger rising in his voice, "so help me Jess, if you break Daisy's heart," Slim stopped. "I've never seen her so scared as she was when I left here this morning."
Jess was staring down at the ground. "Slim, I--"
"You don't owe me nothin', Jess, not one single thing, but you do owe her an apology. If you're man enough to give one to her." And with that, Slim turned away and started across the yard. "I'm goin' out to check on the horses."
oOoOoOo
Jess stood alone in the darkness thinking about what Slim had said and knowing how right his friend was. Finally, he sighed. He'd faced gun battles with less foreboding than he was feeling now as he turned back to the house and opened the door.
Steeling his resolve, he stepped back inside. The room was empty, but there were faint noises coming from the kitchen. He crossed the main room and walked around the corner to find Daisy with her hands deep in a basin of soapy dishwater. She looked tired, exhausted actually, and for the first time, he thought about how hard life must have been for her, losing her son and then her husband-- a woman alone, no longer young, having no one, coming all the way out West to start a new life. They took her for granted, he realized suddenly, her inherent cheerfulness and all of her hard work, the meals she made for them, the way she fussed over them like they were her own.
Because they were all she had.
Without saying a word, he picked up a towel and began to wipe the wet plates stacked on the kitchen table.
They worked without talking until finally it was Daisy who broke the heavy silence. "Jess." She said his name softly, filling it with affection and a hint of reprimand and more patience than anyone had granted him since his mother's death.
He looked over at her, the expression on his face recalling to her mind's eye the long-ago day when her young son had broken her most prized possession, the music box her parents had given her for her sixteenth birthday. Her boy's face that day had been a combination of shame and contrition and regret, and all those expressions, and more, played across Jess' face now, along with what she convinced herself was a hint of hopefulness.
He was staring down at the china coffee cup he was wiping when he said, "Daisy, I--"
"You don't have to apologize to me," she stopped him, her voice weary. "Oh, I'm sure Slim said you should, but you don't. Really."
"I do," he contradicted.
"Jess, if you want to apologize to someone, it's Slim you should be talking to. What you forced him to do today, to step into that street, against you," she stopped and shook her head. "Brother against brother, it's a terrible thing. It was wrong ten years ago in the war and it's even more wrong now, Jess. All that killing proved nothing, except what fools we all were."
His voice was soft. "I know that."
"I think now you do," she agreed, washing the last of the plates.
He set down the blue and white cup and picked up another, and tried to explain. "I made promises back then, to those men. I gave my word. It's hard for a man to go back on that."
There was no judgment in her voice, only gentleness. "Even when you know you were wrong?"
He shook his head ruefully. "Admittin' that's tough."
"But it's the right thing to do."
"Yes, it is."
Her smile was sad. "I think it's called maturity, Jess, and wisdom."
"Something I'll never have," he replied with a sad smile.
"You're wrong again," she contradicted him firmly. "I'd say you got a good start on both today."
The coffee cups dried, Jess picked up a plate, wiping the cloth slowly across it. "So, we're okay, Daisy?"
She smiled up at him. "Yes. We will be, Jess, all of us will be, with a little time."
"Thank you." He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "We don't deserve ya, Daisy. But we sure do need ya."
No more than I need you, she thought but didn't say out loud. "That's what makes us a family, Jess. We all need each other. And there's no replacement for family."
oOoOoOo-- The End --oOoOoOo

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