FORGING A FRIENDSHIP by BLITZKRIEG

DISCLAIMER: The characters were used without permission. No copyright infringement was intended and no money was made.

The story is set a month after the events of “Stage Stop”, the first episode of “Laramie”, and contains references to and quotations from that story.

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A shirtless Slim Sherman, towel wrapped around his neck, was making his way across the yard from the outside shower he had rigged up. He was looking forward to the bacon, sausages and eggs that he knew Jonesy to be preparing. Even at that early hour, the sun had some heat in it and the day was going to be a hot one. Humming happily to himself, Slim was totally unprepared for what happened next.

Actually three things happened almost simultaneously. There was a shriek, an excited cry of “You’ve got him, Jess!” and something landed square on Slim’s head.

For a moment, Slim stood there in stunned surprise as black feathers fluttered around him and the body of a very large, very dead crow hit the ground. Then he gave a cry of rage and took off in the direction from which the shout had come.

There was no one in sight, but he knew his prey was concealed within the barn. “All right, come out!” he commanded.

There was no reply.

Slim waited until his eyes had adjusted to the dark and then inched forward, his eyes carefully flickering from side to side. Then he saw a shadow move in a supposedly empty stall. He turned purposefully towards it.

Glittering blue eyes also observed his change of gait from the hayloft above. With a cry of “Run, Andy!” a lithe figure leapt from the loft landing just behind Slim, who had whirled at the cry.

Seizing his chance, Slim’s young brother bolted from the stall and out into the daylight.

His saviour was not so lucky. As he started to follow, a large hand clamped onto his left shoulder, fingers digging in hard. He started to try to twist away, but a second hand grabbed his right wrist and twisted it up his back.

“Right, outside!” Slim said, shoving his captive ahead of him. Once out into the yard, he called, “Okay, Andy, you can come back now.”

“You don’t think he’s that stupid, do you?” Jess asked infuriatingly.

Propelling Jess ahead of him, Slim forced him up onto the house’s front porch, trapping him against the building. He released Jess’ arm and swung the smaller man to face him. “What the hell do you think you’re playing at?” he demanded.

“It was a good shot, wasn’t it?” Jess responded, surreptitiously rubbing his sore wrist.

“Just answer my question, Harper,” Slim growled, scowling.

Not at all intimidated by Slim’s glare, Jess suppressed a smile with no little difficulty and cheekily replied, “I thought I did.” His eyes were dancing mischievously. “You should have seen your face, Slim! God, you looked like you had been poleaxed. You were standing there with all those damned feathers floating around you.” Unable to contain himself any longer, he began to snigger.

Slim knew he should maintain his dignity and make it clear to the miscreant that such behaviour was not to be tolerated. It was very hard to do so as he pictured how he must have appeared, but firmness was necessary, as this was but one of an increasing number of ‘crimes’ his new hand had committed.

He had known from the first that Harper would be trouble. First, there had been that embarrassing incident by the river when the man had managed to disarm him and then he had arrived home to find Jess already ensconced there. To top it off, Harper had been engaged in teaching Andy some real cardsharp tricks. Oh, he had passed it off as a bit of fun and a way to ensure the boy would not be gulled by others, but it had not sat well with the rather moralistic Sherman.

Slim had been forced to grow up fast and to face responsibility early with the death of his father. Barely into his twenties, he had found himself with a ranch and relay station to run and a much younger brother to bring up. Being Slim, he had taken the challenge seriously, determined to do all his father would have expected of him and more. He had been particularly concerned to raise his brother right. Andy was going to grow into a law-abiding, hard-working man if his brother had anything to say about it.

Until the last few months he had silently congratulated himself on his achievements in that respect. He had basked in the compliments he had received on the boy’s bearing and manners on the few occasions that he had taken him into Laramie and had been pleased with the boy’s efforts to copy him and learn what he needed to know about ranch-work and the stage business.

However, over recent times, there had been a change in the boy. Instead of being the obedient and adoring younger brother, he had started to question Slim’s decisions. He no longer seemed to have the same goals that Slim had. It was almost as if the ranch meant nothing to him. Jonesy had calmly observed that Andy was growing up and he had to let the boy spread his wings a little, but Slim was unconvinced.

Then a new and disruptive element had entered their lives, in the form of a slender, young drifter. Suddenly, Andy’s yearnings had found a focus. Jess Harper was like a breath of fresh air to the lad. He represented the excitement of a much wider world, a world that lacked the black and white certainties of Slim’s more circumscribed existence.

Although not much younger than Slim in years, to the boy he seemed like a different generation to his somewhat staid older brother. Jess seemed to know exactly what boys liked to do and never seemed to worry about boring things like work and responsibility.

Andy had latched onto him immediately, and within minutes of making his acquaintance, had been prepared to take his eight dollars savings and his late father’s watch and follow the newcomer to the ends of the earth. It had been a bit of a disappointment when Jess did not seem to welcome the company and his confidence had been further shaken when Jess had initially hesitated in going to Slim’s assistance when the latter went in pursuit of Bud Carlin and his gang. However, all that had been forgotten in the rush of joy he had felt when he had learnt that Jess had not only changed his mind and gone to Slim’s aid, but was going to stay. Suddenly the ranch did not seem such a bad place to be.

The following month had done nothing to alter the boy’s glowing opinion of Jess. They had had such fun, in spite of Slim’s frequent strictures.

Of course, what Jess and Andy termed fun, Slim termed irresponsibility. After all, what else could you call it when a grown man initiated a game of ‘chicken’? This involved deliberately placing himself in the path of the incoming stagecoaches, as a challenge to the drivers as to how close they dared come to him and whether he or they should break first. Slim could not understand why the drivers’ took up the challenge with relish and seemed to think Harper was a great guy.

With such goings on, it was not surprising that, on several occasions, Slim wondered about the wisdom of his own uncharacteristically impulsive gesture in asking Jess to stay in the first place. Of course, Jess had probably saved his life in going to his assistance against Carlin and his men, and so Sherman had been feeling gratitude, but how had he allowed that to override commonsense?

Indeed, if Jess’ earlier behaviour had not been enough warning, the man’s comments when he had made the offer should have been. Slim had played the conversation over in his head several times:

Slim: We could use an extra hand around here. Wouldn’t pay much but …

Jess: I like being my own boss.

Slim: There’s a real future here, Jess. Finest cow country in Wyoming. What do you say? This could lead to something.

Jess: Yeah, sure could. Trouble!

Slim: Why don’t we take that chance?

Well, he had to admit Jess had not tried to hide his true nature. He *did* like being his own boss. He could follow instructions, when it suited him, but he was apt to question or to blatantly disregard any with which he disagreed. And he had certainly been accurate with his prediction of “Trouble!”

Harper seemed to attract trouble like a magnet and to relish it when it came as adding a zest to life. He never seemed worried about possible consequences. Slim would have said, and indeed had said in no uncertain terms, that Harper was irresponsible and just did not think. Jess’ attitude was always that one should do what one wanted to do and the devil take the hindmost. He was impulsive where Slim was cautious, easy-going where Slim was serious.

Why, only the previous week, Andy had looked enviously at Jess’ six-gun, while Harper was cleaning it, and had commented, “I wish I had a revolver. I know how to shoot a rifle, but I wish …”

He had not even completed voicing the thought when Jess said, “I’ll grab some cans and you can have a go at them.”

Slim was in town, so there was nobody to remind Andy that his brother reckoned he was too young to touch a revolver and that guns were not toys. Chores forgotten, they were soon having a great time blasting away. Andy was not only enjoying being allowed to use the weapon, but was in absolute awe at Jess’ speed and accuracy. Of course, he had observed Harper’s speed on the day they had met, when he had disturbed a dozing Jess and the latter had immediately roused and drawn his gun to confront a potential attacker, but he had never seen Jess actually fire.

The pair was so engrossed that neither heard Slim’s earlier than anticipated return and so they were caught totally by surprise by his shout of anger. Both had received the rough side of his tongue. Jess had tried to claim it had all been his idea, but though appreciating the gesture, Andy had been unable to let Jess shoulder all the blame and had admitted he was the one who broached the subject.

Jess had then changed tack and argued, “Anyway, a man should know how to use a revolver.”

Slim snapped back, “A man yes, but Andy is just a kid.”

“I carried one at his age,” Jess retorted, giving Andy another tantalising view of his colourful past.

“Be that as it may, Andy is *not* you. He’s *my* brother and I will decide when he’s old enough to do things. Understand?” He glared at Jess. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Jess to move on, but he sensed if that happened he would also lose his brother. Sure he could prevent the boy from physically leaving, but he feared the resultant rift might permanently sour their relationship.

Jess seemed to sense he had pushed Slim a mite too far so he curbed his unruly tongue and nodded, merely observing, “I guess I’d better get back to work. Stage’ll be here soon.”

So revolvers were temporarily out and other diversions had to be found. Today’s slingshots had been the latest answer to this need for entertainment.

A couple of days after the revolver incident, Andy had been watching the crows and had idly commented that he reckoned he could have hit one with Jess’ gun, if Slim had not prohibited him from using it.

Jess had immediately observed, “You don’t need a gun for that.”

“Are you thinking of a bow and arrows?” Andy asked.

“Nope! A sling-shot!” That had sparked Andy’s interest and the pair had immediately set to work to make some. They tacitly agreed that what Slim did not know would not hurt him and so had kept both construction and practice secret.

Slim had been suspicious that something was going on, but they had managed to evade his eagle eye, at least until today’s incident.

Now here was Slim fighting to control a desire to laugh, while simultaneously combating an urge to strangle the slender figure shaking with mirth before him.

Fortunately, he was saved from having to commit himself to either course of action when the front door swung open and an annoyed Jonesy stuck out his head and said loudly, “Breakfast will be ruined. I don’t know why I slave away to make delectable meals for such an unappreciative bunch.”

As Slim turned to placate him, Jess seized his chance and wriggled past his captor. “I’m sorry, Jonesy, I would have been on time, but old Slim just kept talking and ...” With impeccable timing, he ducked as Slim tried to clip him across the ear and slipped past Jonesy into the house.

Slim gave a long-suffering sigh and followed him in, to find Andy already seated, the boy having sneaked in the back way. Andy was keeping his head down, fair shovelling the food into his mouth in a great show of concentration.

The irrepressible Harper sat down, eyes twinkling. He looked at the top of Andy’s head and then at Slim and then he made a sudden squawking noise and gave a peal of laughter. Poor Andy was just in the process of taking a drink of milk and it sprayed everywhere.

He and Jess then fell into almost hysterical laughter, while an annoyed and confused Jonesy kept demanding to know what was wrong with the “two young idiots” as he phrased it. However, Slim could resist no longer and found himself laughing too, although in a somewhat saner manner and without the stomach-cramping consequences the pair suffered.

After the two had finally staggered outside, Jonesy turned to him and said, “It’s like having another kid around the place.” In truth, the older man was not really disapproving. He had watched Andy’s growing unhappiness and restlessness with some concern and had been pleased to see the new enthusiasm for life that Jess had sparked in the boy and went on to comment to that effect.

That got Slim thinking. It was pleasant to see the old happy Andy of past years’ back and there was no doubt who was responsible for that transformation. So the drifter’s influence was clearly not all bad. Indeed, he started to wonder whether he could in some way channel that influence into a force for good.

To get him on side, he really needed to get to know Jess better. Since employing the man he had kept somewhat aloof, apart from the all too frequent occasions when he had felt a need to lecture both him and Andy on the foolishness of their current prank. If the truth was known, by his standoffish attitude, he had assured that Harper should turn automatically to the boy for companionship. Okay, perhaps it was time to remedy that.

Accordingly, later that day, he surprised Jess by saying, “I thought I’d ride into Laramie this Saturday. Why don’t you join me? I could introduce you around and we could play a bit of poker with some of the guys.”

Jess stared at him as if uncertain that Slim was serious and then nodded. “Fine.”

“We can get a room at the hotel and stay overnight. Saves riding back in the dark.”

When Andy heard about the invitation he was amazed. “But Slim hardly ever stays in Laramie overnight,” he exclaimed. “What do you think he’s up to?”

“Don’t know. Perhaps he’s going to stray me,” Jess suggested. That set them both off laughing and making up more and more implausible reasons as to why Slim was going to stay in Laramie and how Jess fitted into his plans.

Over the three days before the trip, this provided the pair’s main source of entertainment. Slim and Jonesy were both mystified by the frequent outbursts of mirth and the former was particularly worried as to what new mischief the two might be hatching.

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However, Saturday finally rolled around without Slim finding anything seriously amiss. It was at last time to put his plan into operation and he was feeling slightly apprehensive as to his chance of success. Still, he hoped for the best.

He donned a clean shirt, string tie and his good jacket. He noticed Jess looking at him a bit uneasily. “What’s wrong?” he queried.

“How come you’re getting dressed up just to go into town?”

“Nothing wrong with tidying oneself up,” Slim replied. In truth, there was a young woman, recently employed by the saloon that he was hopeful of getting to know better.

“You’re not expecting me to get dressed up, are you? I *hate* wearing stupid ties like … I-I mean I don’t like dressing up,” he amended hurriedly. In spite of his joking with Andy about it, he had appreciated that Slim’s invitation to accompany him had been meant as a bit of an olive branch and felt he should not start off on the wrong foot.

“No need for you to,” Slim assured him. In truth, he had a feeling that Jess’ darkly handsome looks might well make him a potential rival, and so if he looked a bit on the scruffy side, it might be to Slim’s advantage.

The ride into town was peaceful and Slim looked forward to a pleasant time. He did not often indulge himself with overnight trips to Laramie, or indeed any visits there except on matters of business.

They left their horses at the livery stable and strolled along the main street. Several people greeted Slim and he made Jess known to them. Harper made an effort to be affable and was clearly making a good impression.

However, the first hint that all might not be plain sailing came when Slim gestured towards the sheriff’s office and said, “Let’s go in and I’ll introduce you to Sheriff Mort Corey.”

Jess looked a bit awkward and then said, “Do you mind if we give him a miss? I’m not too … um … I mean, lawmen and I don’t always … er … see eye to eye as it were.”

“Are you suggesting he might just have a picture of you in there?” Slim asked. His tone was light, but it was underlain by some degree of concern. An image of his first meeting with Jess flashed through his mind. Harper had actually tied his horse to the sign that read ‘Sherman Ranch - No Trespassing’. Of course, that bit of cheek was a long way removed from featuring on a wanted poster, but it did suggest a basic disregard for legal authority.

“D-Don’t think so, but you never know. There’s no sense tempting fate.”

Slim hesitated. Finding Jess was wanted would be a perfect excuse for telling him to move on, but he knew Andy would be furious and in a way he would miss the younger man. The ranch would be strangely quiet without him. He decided to give the visit a miss. Anyway, if Jess did start to cause real problems, he could always pay a call on Corey at that point.

They headed into the saloon. Four of Sherman’s friends called for the pair to join their poker game and Slim immediately wondered if he should have talked to Jess about that beforehand.

When he had originally suggested the town visit, he had mentioned poker automatically as it was the main entertainment there except on gala occasions. He had temporarily overlooked the fact that his young hand was something of a cardsharp. He recalled Jess’ skill in dealing off the bottom and setting Andy up with four queens and remembered the comments made by Harper and Jonesy when they had returned to the ranch after the fight with the Carlin gang:

Jess: All right, deal me in. We’ll play a hand or two and see how it works out.

Jonesy: Yeah, but don’t deal any off the bottom.

Now he wondered whether Harper would play a fair game. What would his friends think of him if they found he had introduced a cardsharp into their midst and, worse, had actually known the man was one?

Jess sensed his unease and smiled inwardly. He would never use his illegal skills, unless to combat such activities by another player, but of course Sherman did not know that. ‘Trust old Slim to fear the worst,’ he thought. ‘The man will die worrying. He needs to loosen up a bit.’

However, although Jess had made quite a game out of teasing Slim over the previous month, he had actually developed quite a secret respect for him. He had observed that Sherman was scrupulously fair in his dealings with others, always did his share and more when there was work to be done and, above all in importance in Jess’ eyes, genuinely wanted what was best, by his lights at least, for his younger brother.

Although on the occasion of their first meeting, he had suggested, in a moment of anger, that Slim wanted him to leave so he could beat Andy, it was clear that Sherman never laid a hand on the boy for all his threats. Indeed, Jess was honest enough to admit, to himself at least, that some of his own pranks in the subsequent period probably merited the back of Slim’s hand as well, but again Slim managed to contain himself in spite of considerable provocation. Possibly Slim’s blood pressure might well have benefited if he had surrendered to his impulses, but he was not that sort of man.

Indeed, Harper still found it somewhat hard to accept just what a decent, upright man he was. Jess had had so few experiences of such behaviour in his hard life. His father had been drunken and violent, with hardly a good word to say for anyone and none for his only son. Jess had left home before his teens with no regrets and never a backward glance. The only thing his father had given him, apart from numerous bruises, was a determination never to submit to any authority that was not merited.

Living in the Sherman household had given him his first real taste of what family life could be like and he was not about to do something that would result in Slim actually kicking him out if he could help it. He had never wanted to put down roots anywhere, but now he suddenly found himself too comfortable to be any hurry to move on.

So he sat down with every intention of losing what little money he had in his pocket if only to prove to Slim that he was not out to cheat his friends.

They had not long been at the table when Jess realized that Slim’s attention was wandering. He surreptitiously took a look to see what was engaging Sherman’s interest and spotted the saloon girl. She was cute enough, with her brown curls and pert figure, to have the attention of a number of the men present.

Jess could not fault Slim’s taste, but did not feel a like interest. He was always somewhat shy around women, having had little to do with them in his life. His mother had died when he was a toddler and no woman had been foolhardy enough to want to walk out with his father, let alone marry him. Then, after he had left home, Jess’ life had been too nomadic for him to form attachments with anyone.

He wondered if Slim had a chance with the girl. He supposed a rancher, with good-looks and prospects, would be a good catch for one in her position, but whether she would make a suitable rancher’s wife was another thing. He could not imagine the dainty girl getting involved in the frequently heavy and unpleasant chores that were the lot of such women. Still, that would be between her and Slim, so he resolved to make himself pleasant to her and to say nothing that might undermine the potential relationship.

A few minutes later, Slim caught her eye and she moved to join him, yellow satin skirts swishing gracefully, as she deftly avoided the men who reached for her en route. “Good evening, Mr Sherman,” she said. “How nice to see you again.”

“Good evening, Miss Butler. I would like to introduce you to my friend, Jess Harper. Jess, this is Miss Monica Butler.”

“Pleased to meet you, Ma’am,” Jess said, uncomfortably aware of her assessing gaze upon him. Although he was diffident with women, he knew only too well that they were often anything but when they had a target in mind. Sometimes they made him feel like he had a bull’s-eye plumb in the middle of his forehead. So he was more than somewhat relieved when Slim offered to buy Monica a drink and walked her off towards the bar. He just hoped she would fix her interest on Slim as the last thing he wanted to do was fall out with Slim over a woman, especially one that did not interest him.

Jess settled back down to the poker game and all was peaceful, insofar as the saloon could ever be so described on a Saturday night. Then suddenly Slim’s voice rang out, “Take your hands off her!”

Everyone turned to see what was going on. A large, rough-looking man had pulled Monica down onto his lap. One of the men at Jess’ table hissed, “Here’s trouble! That’s Dave Creedy. Man’s always making trouble. Saloon owner’s threatened to ban him more than once,” he explained for Jess’ benefit.

“Yeah,” another added, “and his friends aren’t much better. The other big guy is Jim Smith and he’s always ready for a scrap. Joe Black and Kev Johnson are often in strife too.”

Of course, men like Creedy were an occupational hazard for saloon girls and most were skilled in fending off their drunken attentions without leading to unpleasantness. Harper considered Sherman would have been well advised to leave Monica to do so, but he suspected, quite rightly, that it was not in Slim’s nature to abandon a woman.

“Whatcha gonna do about it, dude?” Creedy drawled, looking disdainfully at Slim’s good clothes.

“Get up and I’ll show you,” Slim retorted.

Creedy lurched to his feet, tipping Monica from his lap to the floor without a second glance. She landed with a shriek and a flurry of skirts, but knowing what was to come, was quickly up and hurrying out of the way.

Indeed, before Jess knew what she was about, she was across the room and clutching his arm. She was clearly not a girl to lose an opportunity, but if she thought that Jess was going to go into comfort mode, she had another think coming. Harper’s whole attention was on the combatants, who were both fronting up looking for an opening.

Although Slim was a big man, his opponent topped him by a couple of inches and was probably a good three stone heavier. However, Jess confidently expected that Slim would give a good account of himself. In truth, he was looking forward to the fight, not least because, for once, it was Slim involved in trouble not him.

He pictured their return to the relay station and imagined himself telling Andy and Jonesy, “I had a good time in Laramie. It’s a friendly sort of town Why the only trouble I saw was when Slim picked a fight in the saloon.” ‘That will surprise them,’ he thought, smiling inwardly at the scene he had conjured up. ‘It’ll be a bit harder for old Slim to lecture Andy and me for our misdeeds in future.’

He turned his attention back to the fight. Combat had been joined and Creedy had just swung a haymaker at Slim’s head. Sherman ducked, easily evading the wild blow, and then threw a hard left jab to Creedy’s midriff. The big man doubled over and Slim gave him an upper-cut to the jaw. Creedy staggered back into one of his seated friends.

Johnson swore and shoved Creedy back into the fray, before leaping up to join in. The two others at the table followed suit.

So much for Jess’ plan to remain a spectator. He could not leave Slim to face such odds alone. He shook off Monica’s clutching hand, raced across the room and launched himself into the fight, with a head-high tackle on the nearest man. Joe Black crashed to the floor, with Jess astride his stomach, and a quick right cross ensured that he was not going to get up in a hurry.

Before Jess could rise, he was seized by the scruff of the neck and one shoulder and hauled to his feet by Smith. He drove an elbow back into his attacker’s gut. The man grunted in pain and released his hold, only to fling his arms around Jess’ upper body in a crushing bear hug before Harper could twist away.

Arms pinned to his sides, Jess watched, apparently helpless, as Kev Johnson moved towards him. Harper glanced quickly in Slim’s direction, but the latter was too preoccupied with exchanging punches with Creedy to have noticed his plight and would have been too busy to do anything about it anyway.

Johnson moved in gloating at the thought of what he was about to do to this interfering cowboy. He was so confident that Harper was helpless in Smith’s grip that he came too close without care. Suddenly, instead of trying to pull away, Jess leaned back hard against Smith. Caught off-guard, Smith stumbled back slightly and Jess used him as a support while he swung up a foot, catching Johnson square in the crotch. Johnson gave a shrill scream and collapsed to his knees.

Shaken by the shriek, Smith loosened his hold. Jess jerked his body upwards, flinging his head back and catching his captor under the chin with a vicious head-butt. Smith’s head rocked back and blood began to trickle down his chin from damaged teeth.

Before he could recover, Jess stomped a boot heel down onto his foot, grinding it in as hard as he could. Swearing, Smith flung Jess away from him. Harper bounced off a spectator and turned in one swift movement. He flung himself at Smith, grasping his throat.

Smith flung up his arms against the underside of Jess’ forearms to break the hold, and then staggered back, desperate to get away from the smaller man. Jess followed him, a feral grin on his handsome face. Adrenalin was pumping through him and he would have dared any odds.

Recognizing his danger, Smith turned on his heels and ran. He had never run from a fight in his entire life, but there was a deadliness about his opponent that frankly terrified him. A ripple of derisive laughter from the amused onlookers followed him.

However, Jess had no time to savour his triumph. A flash of light had caught his eye and he turned to see Slim on his knees, head down, and a very battered looking Creedy approaching him, knife in hand.

“Slim! Look out!” Jess shouted, as he dived to intercept Creedy. Somehow he managed to get between Slim and Creedy and his left hand closed frantically on Creedy’s right wrist.

However, the big man was far stronger than Jess and had worked himself into a berserker rage. Unable to hold him, Harper was borne steadily backwards, fully anticipating that he would stumble into Slim at any moment, but unable to risk a glance behind him lest Creedy take advantage of his moment’s inattention.

Fortunately, unbeknownst to Jess, one of Slim’s friends observed the danger, and although he had had no desire to join the fight directly, was engaged in pulling him aside.

Finally, Jess’ thighs came up against a table that did not move an inch because it was hard up against a wall. Creedy forced him down on top of it, while trying to bring his knife to bear.

Jess locked his arm and struggled desperately to stop the blade’s seemingly inevitable descent into his chest. It seemed impossible that the much smaller man could hold out, but the fight with Slim had sapped Creedy’s normally formidable strength and a determined Harper knew his very life depended on his resistance.

Finding himself thwarted, Creedy twisted his wrist against Jess’ thumb, bending it back to break Harper’s grip. As he lost his hold, Jess did the only thing he could and closed his hand on the blade itself. It bit deeply into his palm. Blood immediately began to course down his wrist and drip onto the table.

Creedy laughed. There was no way that the bastard was going to stop him now. Eyes glinting with anticipation, he prepared to thrust the knife home.

He was so absorbed in what he was about to do that he was totally unprepared for the vicious rabbit-killer a recovering Sherman gave him to the back of his neck.

He collapsed forward on top of Jess. The additional weight was too much for the table and its legs gave way. Table and men landed with a resounding crash. Jess’ head hit the floor hard and he lost consciousness.

The sound of the fall was followed immediately by a gunshot. The room went silent as everyone wondered just who the victim might be. Sheriff Corey shouted, “It’s the law! Everyone stand where you are!” He moved authoritatively across the room, flanked by two deputies carrying drawn guns.

He looked down disdainfully at Creedy and his unknown opponent, observing the blood pooling between the pair. He nodded to his men, who moved forward to jerk the groaning Creedy none too gently to his feet. All three were very used to having to deal with that troublemaker. Still, at least, from his badly bruised face and bleeding nose, he had suffered somewhat more than he usually did.

The sheriff was solely concerned with the condition of Creedy’s latest victim and was relieved to see the blood was only coming from a hand injury. He turned back to the watching men and asked, “Who is he?”

Slim moved unsteadily forward. “He’s Jess Harper, Mort. He’s my new ranch-hand.”

Head thumping, Jess was just rousing when he heard Slim’s words. Hearing the name ‘Mort’, he immediately realized that the sheriff must be on the scene. Playing possum, he peeped up from under thick lashes to see how things stood before revealing his return to consciousness.

Corey looked surprised to see that the normally law-abiding Slim, by his battered appearance, had clearly been involved in the brawl, but supposed he must have gone to Harper’s assistance. “I’m surprised you’d employ a troublemaker, Slim,” he commented.

Slim had the grace to blush, not that it was obvious with his extensive collection of bruises. “It wasn’t Jess’ fault. I started it,” he admitted hurriedly. “Jess only came to my help when Creedy’s friends joined in.”

“Your fault?” Creedy queried, frankly dubious. “Well, Slim, you’d better take Harper along to the doc and then call over to the jail and give me your version.”

“Thanks, Mort.”

The sheriff headed out followed by Creedy, who was flanked by the deputies, while Slim squatted down beside Jess and ran a surprisingly gentle hand down his cheek. “Jess, can you hear me?”

Harper made a groaning sound and pretended that he was just coming to. It never paid to give one’s hand away. However, he had been impressed by the speed with which Slim had not only jumped to his defence, but had actually admitted he was the challenger rather than Creedy. Sherman could always be counted on to do the honourable thing, even if it might not be in his own best interests. More than ever, Jess thanked his lucky stars that he had fallen in with such a man.

“Jess, it’s Slim. Do you think you can stand? I want to take you to the doctor’s.”

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

Slim raised him to a sitting position. Jess reached gingerly for the back of his head. Slim moved around to investigate his hurt. He carefully parted Jess’ hair. “You’re going to have a bit of a bump there, pard,” he observed.

‘Pard’? Jess’ heart did a strange leap. Slim finally seemed to have accepted him. It was well worth a cut hand and an aching head to have apparently won his regard. Until that moment, Jess had not realized just how much he wanted to do that. Sure, he had recognized that he liked being part of a family, but he had not known exactly how important it had become to him to win Slim’s friendship. Of course, in many ways they were opposites, but if they could find some common ground what a team they could make!

However, there should still be room for independence in any good team and Jess never liked to rely on others if he could help it. “I can get up by myself,” he said.

“Maybe, but I’m right here to see you don’t go straight back down again,” Slim replied, keeping a steadying arm around Jess.

That strong arm stayed right there all the way to the doctor’s clinic and, in truth, Jess was glad of it, for all his protests, as he found the world had developed a strange tendency to spin and tilt.

The elderly doctor examined his head, but proclaimed it would not need a bandage, as the skin was unbroken. Then he cleaned the wound in Jess’ palm with stinging carbolic and began to stitch it closed. Jess winced and bit his lip, but managed to keep stoically silent during the unpleasant procedure.

Finally, the doctor was satisfied the wound was closed. “Keep an eye on that, boy,” he instructed. “You’ll need to be careful that infection does not set in.”

“I’ll see that he takes care,” Slim said. “Actually we’re staying in town overnight so I’ll bring him in so you can check it again before we head home tomorrow.”

“Fine.” As he spoke, he was wrapping a thick bandage around the hand. “I should probably give him a sling,” he observed to Slim. “The trouble with hand injuries is that people often forget them and then use the hand undoing all my good work.”

“Good idea,” Slim agreed.

“I don’t want one,” Jess said firmly. The two seemed to be ganging up a bit and deciding things as if he was a kid, so it was time to assert himself in his opinion.

The doctor and Slim exchanged glances, but tacitly agreed it was probably not worth the argument.

“If you change your mind about that, boy, I’ll give you one tomorrow,” the doctor said.

Jess privately resolved his hand would fall off before he made such a request.

“We’d better head across and see Mort,” Slim said. “He’s expecting us.”

“Perhaps I should head on to the hotel. He only asked for you,” Jess pointed out. The moment the words had left his lips, he inwardly cursed himself. He hoped Slim would be too preoccupied to notice his slip.

At first, it appeared that he had got away with it, as Slim started, ”No, I think you should …” However, dashing Jess’ hopes he broke off, exclaiming, “Wait a minute! I thought you didn’t come around until Mort had left.”

“Oh … um … I was … I was … I was just coming around and I-I … I felt a bit sick and didn’t feel up to joining the conversation just then,” he lied.

Slim looked at him, disbelief plain in his eyes, as he recalled the show of reviving the incorrigible Harper had given after the sheriff had departed. However, since he was aware that a blushing Jess knew he had been caught out, he resisted the temptation to make a comment on his ranch-hand’s behaviour. “Well, I hope you feel like doing so now,” he said, “because Mort will want to hear your version of events.”

Jess nodded reluctantly. In truth, he did not think Mort would be likely to know anything to his detriment, but he had sailed close to the wind at times and lawmen always made him feel uneasy.

They entered the sheriff’s office and Slim made the necessary introductions. Mort then gestured towards the backroom where the cells were located. “I’ve got Creedy locked up nice and tight,” he said. “I’ve heard what he has to say and I’d like to hear your side. Slim, you said something about being the one that started it and Creedy’s certainly laying the blame at your door.”

“I’m afraid that’s true, Mort. He grabbed hold of a lady I was talking to and I took exception to it.”

“A lady? One of the saloon girls?” Mort asked. His face plainly showed that he doubted whether the two terms could be used interchangeably. Jess inwardly agreed, but refrained from comment.

“Yes. Monica Butler. She’s new there.”

“So what happened to get Harper involved?”

Jess bristled. It appeared that the sheriff was going to be as bad as the doctor for ignoring him. Even though he had not really wanted to come to the sheriff’s notice in the first place, he still resented such treatment.

Corey clearly sensed the hostile reaction. “You’ll get your turn in a minute, Harper,” he promised. He turned back to Slim. “Well?”

“Johnson and the other two decided to join in. I didn’t actually see Jess get involved, but I guess he saw them getting stuck in and decided to help me.”

“That true, Harper?”

“Yeah, I figured Slim was a mite outnumbered with four against him.”

“Did you use any weapons?”

“No, Creedy had a knife, but I didn’t use any.”

“Yes, some witnesses have called in and told me you stopped him using it on Slim.”

“What?” Sherman asked.

“Didn’t you realize that, Slim?” Mort asked. “Bill Martin and a couple of others reckon that if Harper hadn’t flung himself between you and Creedy you’d have been knifed for sure.”

Up until this point, Slim had felt gratitude for Jess’ intervention on his side, but had not realized just how much he was in his ranch-hand’s debt. He had been virtually out to it when Jess had intercepted Creedy and, vision blurred, had not seen the weapon. When he recovered enough to rejoin the fight, he had assumed that Creedy had pulled the knife on Jess.

He turned and held out his hand to Jess. “I guess I owe you even more than I thought I did. Thank you, Jess,” he said, shaking his hand.

Jess coloured. “That’s okay, Slim,” he muttered in embarrassment. “You’d have done the same for me.” He had absolutely no doubt about that, It felt so strange, but so good, to realize that, for the first time in his life, he had somebody upon whom he could totally rely.

Mort said, “Well, Slim, since you’ve admitted causing the fight, even under provocation, I guess you’ll be calling on Mr Jameson at the saloon with a payment for damages.”

“Sure, Mort.”

“However, there’s a bit of difference between fist fighting and using a knife. Do you want to press charges, Harper?”

“Huh?” Jess was caught off-guard by the inquiry.

“You were the one he injured, so it’s up to you.”

“N-No, I don’t want to. I only got a cut hand.” It was bad enough dealing with sheriffs. He did not want to get involved with a judge and jury as well.

“But it could have been far more severe, Jess,” Slim pointed out.

“Yeah, but it wasn’t. It’s no big deal, Slim. Let’s forget it.”

“Does that sit right with you, Mort?” Slim asked.

“I suppose it will have to. Anyway, there’s always the chance the judge might feel you should be charged too. Yes, I know your reasons,” he said when he saw Slim was about to argue, “but a lot of men feel a woman who takes on that sort of job lets herself in for whatever happens to her. Be that as it may, you might find yourself with not much support in court.”

Jess nodded his agreement. The sheriff was no fool and he was starting to feel some respect for the man regardless of the badge.

“But it doesn’t seem right that Creedy is going to walk away scot-free,” Slim protested.

“Oh, he’s not getting away without penalty,” Corey said, grinning as he recalled the scene enacted a few minutes earlier in the jailhouse. “Mr Jameson has been in and told Creedy he’s banned from the saloon. He’s threatened him with that in the past, so it shouldn’t have surprised Creedy, but it certainly did. He looked absolutely gob-smacked.”

Slim smiled back. “Knowing him, that will hurt him far more than a fine or a few weeks in the cells.” He yawned and said, “If that’s all, Mort, we’ll head for the hotel. It’s been quite a night and I could do with some shut-eye.”

Little did he know, the night was far from over.

As soon as Slim and Jess had left, Mort had released Creedy. He had no justification for holding him as no charges had been made and he was not drunk enough to retain for his own good. In truth, Mort was happy enough to be shot of the man.

Creedy was in no mood to accept that he was lucky that to avoid charges. As far as he was concerned, he had been the innocent party. Sherman and that damned interfering friend of his were to blame. He would make them both pay, but his first target would be Jameson. Ban him from the saloon, would he? It would serve him right if he had no saloon at all.

Possessing a violent temper and always unstable, the night’s events had tipped him over the edge into the insanity always awaiting him.

He headed along to the street to his room, in the disreputable boarding house on the outskirts of town, thinking about what he would need. Once there he collected a crowbar, a large bottle of lamp oil, paper and matches. He placed these items in a bag and settled down to wait until the town was quiet.

An hour or so later, he slipped from his room and made his way stealthily along the rear of the buildings to the back of the saloon. He jemmied open a back window and swung a leg over the sill. Then he made his way silently through the building to the staircase.

Reaching his goal, he placed his newspaper on the stairs and liberally splashed the lamp oil onto it. Then he lit a match. The fire flared immediately, and smiling in triumph, Creedy beat a hasty retreat back the way he had come.

He moved quickly along behind the buildings and back to his room to stash his gear and then reemerged. He sat on the porch, waiting for the alarm to be raised, which hopefully would not happen until the building was well alight, ready to enjoy proceedings.

Meanwhile, Jess and Slim had gone to bed in their room at the hotel, across the street from the saloon. Slim had fallen asleep almost immediately, but the combination of an aching head and throbbing hand led Jess to find sleep elusive. He tossed and turned for what seemed like ages, but it was no use. Finally, he got up and walked to the window, drawing back the curtains.

To his surprise, he was met by a blaze of light. The saloon was ablaze, and judging by the lack of voices, nobody had realized it yet. He grabbed his gun from the bedside table, flung open the window, and fired a couple of attention-getting shots before shouting, “Fire!”

Poor Slim was so startled that he leaped out of bed before he was properly awake and nearly fell in a heap on the floor. He sat down hard on the bed. “What in blazes is going on?” he demanded.

“‘Blazes’ is the word, Slim,” Jess replied, as he struggled into his clothes. “The saloon’s on fire.”

In an instant, Slim was on his feet and dragging his trousers on.

With his head start, Jess already had his jeans and boots on. He grabbed his shirt and bandana, tossed his gun-belt onto the bed as unneeded and headed off, ignoring Sherman’s order to wait for him.

Other people, aroused by Jess’ shots and shout were starting to emerge. The deputy on night-duty was already starting to yell instructions about hoses, pumps and buckets and trying to get things organized.

A fire was bad enough anywhere, but in a town of close-packed wooden buildings it could spell major disaster. Fortunately there was a reasonably wide alley on one side of the saloon that might act as a firebreak, so the fire fighters could concentrate on the other side of the saloon.

The publican and his wife emerged from the saloon, both calling frantically for assistance. Their room was on the ground floor, but four of the girls they employed plus their two young daughters, slept upstairs and those stairs were impassable.

A couple of saloon-girls appeared on the balcony, clinging together, screaming for help. Jess shouted for them to lower themselves over the rail and drop, but one screamed, “I can’t! I can’t!”

The other called down, “I would, but I can’t leave Sally. She’s terrified of heights.”

Jess stood there wondering how in hell he could get to them. He glanced around looking for inspiration. He had just spotted what he needed, when he felt a strong hand settle on his shoulder and realized Slim had joined him.

He gestured towards the balcony. “One won’t jump and her friend won’t leave her. I’d better go up there.” He pointed at a flat-decked wagon along the street. “If we drag that along here and you stand on it, I should be able to grab the railing from your shoulders and pull myself up. Then I’ll lower the girls down to you.”

“Good idea, but with your hand injury it had better be me that goes up,” Slim replied, as they headed hurriedly for the wagon.

“What? Me have you on my shoulders? How do you imagine I could lift you?”

“I think you can probably do anything you *want* to do,” Slim retorted. He turned to a couple of men nearby and called, “Alan! Sam! Can you give us a hand to shift this?”

The four manoeuvred the wagon into position. Harper then quickly unwrapped his hand, as the bandage was too thick to allow for a decent grip. Slim squatted on the tray, while Jess climbed onto his broad shoulders. “Don’t drop me.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Sherman retorted, slowly standing up.

Alan and Sam each helped steady one of Jess’ legs, as he stood upright, swaying dangerously. Then he stretched up and grasped a balcony post with his good hand. “I’ve got a hold,” he announced and with that gave a quick bounce, that did nothing for Slim’s shoulders, and propelled himself upwards.

He managed to grab hold with his injured hand in spite of the pain, but then the real problem started. Somehow he had to take all his weight on that hand, while moving the other one higher.

Watching from below, Slim braced himself, in case he had to somehow try to break Jess’ fall. ‘I should have insisted on going up,’ he thought. ‘He’s not going to make it.’

However, he had reckoned without Jess’ reckless determination. Harper knew he had to move fast both for the sake of the women on the balcony and because, eventually, his strength would give out and it was a case of climb or fall. ‘I can’t give old Slim a chance to say, “I told you so”,’ he thought. Forcing himself to ignore the pain, he gritted his teeth, released his good hand and lunged upwards.

Somehow he got another grip, but could feel the stickiness of blood as his stitches had parted. He swore. The last thing he needed was a slippery hand.

Then he started as he felt a hand grip his shirt collar. The bolder of the two women had realized his plight and had put a hand between the balcony rails. Then her other hand snaked through under his right arm. Although she lacked the strength to pull him up, the support was enough. He gave another surge and managed to get a the tip of a knee on the narrow ledge that ran along outside the balcony.

He thrust his bleeding hand through a gap between the posts and locked his elbow around one. “Can you get my bandana off?” he gasped. “I need it wrapped once around the hand so I can get a grip.”

“I’ll have to let go of you,” she warned.

“That’s okay. I think I’m all right for a minute.”

She quickly removed the neckerchief, wrapped it across his palm and then tied it round his wrist.

“Right, here we go,” Jess announced. Supporting himself with his hooked elbow, he stretched his good hand as high as he could actually managed to grip the rail.

A quick pull and he had the toe of a boot on the ledge where his knee had been. Moments later, he was swinging awkwardly over the rail.

Slim breathed a sigh of relief. The climb had not taken long, but it had seemed to take ages.

“Okay, I’ll lower you down. There’s no risk. Slim Sherman and a couple of other men are there.”

“What about the others?” the woman who had helped him asked.

“Others?”

“Mr Jameson’s two daughters sleep upstairs and Monica and Judy are still in there. There’s a fire escape at the other end of the building, so they might have got out. I would have gone back to look, but Sally kept hanging onto me.”

“I’ll go and check, but we’d better lower Sally over first.”

He turned to the woman who had sunk down on her knees literally clinging to his helper’s legs. “C’mon, Sally, get up.” She ignored him. “Sally, others are in danger. We haven’t got time for this. C’mon, get up!”

“Noooooo! I’m not going over! I’m not! I’m not! Josie, tell him I’m not!”

It was hopeless. Jess did the only thing he could and clipped her on the jaw. With a small cry she lost consciousness. Then he and Josie lifted her onto the railing. Taking hold of her wrists, he leaned over as far as he could, while Josie clutched his belt to steady him. “Okay, Slim?” he called.

“Yes.”

He released her wrists and she fell into Slim’s arms.

Jess turned back to Josie. “You now?” he asked.

“No, I’ll wait. You might need help with the others.”

Jess leaned over the rail and called, “There are other people inside, Slim. I’m going to look for them.”

“Be careful.”

“Always.”

Pulling off his bloodstained bandana, he wrapped it over his nose and mouth as some protection against the smoke and headed inside. Visibility was dreadful and he was literally feeling his way. The first two rooms he tried appeared to be empty, but when he reached the third, he heard sobbing. “Where are you?” he called desperately, unable to see anyone.

The noise continued.

“I’m here <cough> to get you out. Where are you?”

Then a child’s voice replied, “We’re <cough> under the bed <cough>.”

“It’s okay. Come out.”

“My sister’s <cough> gone to sleep. <cough> She <cough> won’t wake up.”

Guided by the voice, Jess got down and crawled across the room. Reaching the bed, he gasped, “Okay, you <cough> come out and I’ll <cough> get her.”

A small girl scrambled out beside him. Lying flat on his stomach, Jess reached under and felt for the remaining child. Find a leg, he pulled her out and gathered her into his arms. Settling her on one hip, he reached for the first child. “Hold on to my hand,” he rasped.

Then he moved back towards the balcony as quickly as he could.

As he emerged, coughing and spluttering, Josie hastily moved forward to relieve him of the unconscious child and headed for the railing.

Realizing that she was intending to lower the child, Jess staggered forward. “Careful! Better let me. We <cough> can’t <cough> have you tipping over.”

Once both children had been successfully dropped, Jess turned back towards the door. Josie seized his arm and insisted, “You can’t go back in there.”

“I have to.”

“They might have got out.”

“But <cough> we <cough> don’t know.”

Josie ran back to the rail, “Mr Sherman!” she called. “Can you ask if anyone has seen Judy or Monica? They might have got down the fire escape at the back.”

Jess joined her, peering down at Slim. He knew that Slim would be concerned about anyone in the building, but that it would be worse for him knowing that one was Monica. “Don’t <cough> worry, Slim. I’m going <cough> to look for her.” With that he was gone.

Slim was torn. It was on the tip of his tongue to order Jess to give up, not that the contumacious ranch-hand was likely to obey, but how could he when Monica was one of the missing? He turned to Alan. “Could you ask around and see if anyone has seen them?”

“Sure! I’ll be right back.”

Minutes dragged by like hours. Josie and Slim looked at each other helplessly. Then Alan jogged up to the wagon. “I found Judy. She reckons they both got out. She’s helping the bucket-brigade, but I don’t know where Monica has gone.”

Slim looked up. “Did you hear that, Josie? Tell Jess.”

“Yes, I’ll call him.” She hurried back to the balcony door and shouted, “Jess! Jess! It’s okay! They’re safe!”

There was no response.

“JESS!” Josie was screaming now. “JESS!”

Jess shook his head, as he fought a wave of dizziness. Overcome by the smoke and heat, he was down on his hands and knees. He was wracked with coughing and his smoke-filled eyes were stinging so badly he could hardly open the lids. Then her distressed cry penetrated his fuzzy brain. “JESS!”

Josie was in trouble! Had the fire reached the balcony? With a strength he could not have found to help himself, he staggered to his feet to go to her assistance. Coughing and wheezing painfully, he stumbled along the corridor, trying desperately to call a reassurance to her, but unable to gain the breath to do so.

Tears coursing down her face, a stricken Josie was just giving him up for lost when she saw the faltering shape. Without hesitation, she hurried into the building, to wrap a supporting arm around him and guide him outside.

He leaned heavily against her and she feared he might collapse completely. She knew if he did they would be in major trouble, as she would not be able to carry him. “Keep going, Jess,” she urged. “Keep going.”

They tottered out onto the balcony and Josie managed to keep him moving over to the balcony railing. However, then he sank to his knees, coughing painfully. Josie shook him. “Jess, you can’t stop! We’ve got to get over the rail.” She looked down at Slim’s anxious face. “He’s just about out to it,” she called.

Slim did the only thing he could think of. He shouted, “C’mon, Harper! Stop playing around! The lady needs help! I thought you said you could do the job.”

As he hoped, his words penetrated. “I’m doing it. <cough> Don’t <cough> hassle me <cough>.” He pulled himself painfully upright, swaying dangerously. Josie put out a hand to steady him. “I-I don’t <cough> know if <cough> I can hold you long,” he gasped apologetically.

“I’m okay,” she replied. “Heights don’t bother me.” She added a silent ‘much’. As she spoke, she swung a leg over the rail.

He clutched her wrists and she thought, ‘It’s now or never’ and moved her other leg over. Jess was immediately in difficulties. She was heavier than the others had been and he had no one to help brace him. Worse, he was almost out on his feet. He lost his grip before he intended and she fell with a shriek.

Slim managed to break her fall, but went flat on his back with her on top of him. For a moment, it appeared to the anxious watchers that Harper was going to fall headfirst on top of both of them, as he swayed, his upper body over the railing, fighting to regain his feet.

Watching from across the street, Creedy realized that his enemies were in an exceptionally vulnerable position. What an opportunity to further his revenge! Without a second thought, he stepped out into the middle of the street, drew his revolver and fired up at Jess.

However, the result was not at all what Creedy had hoped. Firstly, the impact of the bullet was what actually saved Harper from falling. Throwing him backwards, it gave him the momentum he needed to regain his feet. The fact that he immediately collapsed in a heap did not matter, as he was safe on the balcony.

Secondly, in his eagerness he had exposed himself to full view. Seeing what he was about, the sheriff, who was just rounding the building, had grabbed for his own gun. “Creedy! Stop!” he shouted. He tried to get a bead on the man, but there were too many people in his line of sight, and he was forced to fire over Creedy’s head, his shot coming fractionally after Creedy’s.

Creedy swung around, looked at the sheriff, clearly debating throwing a shot in his direction. Those between the pair panicked uncertain where to run for safety. The sheriff tried to push through them, while keeping an eye on his target in the poor light. Then someone crashed into Mort almost knocking him over. He lost sight of Creedy and that was it. Presumably he had slipped into one of the buildings or alleys opposite. The sheriff briefly debated pursuing him, but the last thing he wanted was a gun battle, with the considerable danger to innocent bystanders, in the middle of all the other confusion.

A couple of minutes later, a townsman emerged with a long ladder, apologizing profusely that he had lent it out, and initially had forgotten to whom, or he would have had it there sooner.

Meanwhile, Slim had awkwardly extricated himself from beneath Josie. Both were bruised, but apart from that unscathed. Now he placed the ladder in position and climbed quickly, disappearing from sight over the rail. He emerged moments later with Jess slung over one shoulder.

He clambered down, readjusted his hold so Jess was in a more comfortable position in his arms, and then headed quickly to the doctor’s clinic for Harper’s second visit of the night.

The little girls that Jess had rescued were in a bed in another room, with the doctor’s wife watching over them. Both were still coughing periodically, but the doctor was sure they would be fine.

“Not him again!” the doctor exclaimed, when he observed Slim’s burden.

“I’m afraid so, doc.”

“Put him on that bed. What is it this time?”

“Bullet in the shoulder, smoke inhalation and, I’m afraid, he’s ruined your sewing.”

“I warned him about using that hand,” the doctor commented, as he started to unbutton Jess’ shirt.

“Yes, but if he hadn’t, your other patients wouldn’t be with us.”

“He was the one that saved them?”

“Yes and a couple of women.”

“I guess in that case I’d better not be too hard on him over the hand then.”

“No, there’s a few people who have good reason to be grateful to him tonight.”

“Someone wasn’t,” the doctor commented looking pointedly at the bullet wound.

“Dave Creedy again.”

“Am I going to have to patch him up too.”

“Nope, Mort couldn’t get a decent shot at him and he’s taken off. I guess the posse’ll be out after him tomorrow. Wouldn’t surprise me if he had something to do with the fire as well. We may never know, but it seems a bit much of a coincidence that the saloon burns down the night he gets banned from it.”

“Sounds like it,” the doctor agreed. “Can you help me raise him? Thanks. Ah, good, the bullet’s gone straight through, and from the looks of the position, it won’t have done any major damage. I’ll patch that up and then I’ll stitch that hand up again. It looks in far worse condition than when it was first hurt. He’s going to have a bit of trouble doing much for a few days, with both arms out of commission.”

“What about the effects of the smoke?”

“He’ll probably have a sore throat for a few days. I’ll give you some medicine to help with that. He’ll probably have quite a sore chest too, as he will be doing quite a bit of coughing after all that smoke he inhaled.”

“Still, it could have been a lot worse. I thought I’d lost him for a while there.” As he said it, Slim realized with a shock just how devastating that would have been. ‘When did he become so important to me?’ he wondered. Slim had always had a number of friends, but for some reason he did not feel as close to any of them as he did to the wild, young drifter that he had known for barely a month.

Fortunately, Jess did not rouse until the doctor had completed his work on his shoulder and hand, but when he did, he had a major coughing fit. Belatedly realizing what was about to happen, Slim barely managed to grab a bowl from the bedside table before Jess was violently sick. Slim supported him, until he had emptied his stomach, and then eased him back onto the pillows. He reached for a wash cloth and gently wiped Jess’ face before holding a glass of water to his lips.

“Th-Thanks, Slim <cough> you <cough> make a lovely nurse <cough>,” Jess managed, unable to resist teasing, even though he felt wretched.

Slim shook his head. He had never met someone like this new friend of his, so irrepressible, so irresponsible … so irreplaceable. Young Andy had proven himself a damn good judge of character after all.

The doctor came in with some laudanum at that point. “I think he’d better have some of this,” he said.

“Wh-What is it?” Jess asked suspiciously.

“Laudanum. It’ll help with the pain.”

“Don’t <cough> need any,” he announced recalcitrantly.

“Too bad, Jess. The doctor will decide what you need,” Slim announced. “Now, don’t make me force it into you. Don’t think I won’t,” he warned, seeing the stubborn look on Jess’ face.

Jess pouted, clearly debating whether to challenge that assertion, but uncomfortably aware that, for the moment at least, Slim probably did have the upper hand. The trouble was he really did feel too ill to argue and certainly was not up to a tussle. “Oh, go on. Get it <cough> over with <cough>,” he complained ungraciously. “I <cough> don’t suppose <cough> I’ll get any peace till I’ve <cough> had it.”

He swallowed it, pronounced it to be “yuk!” and then had another agonizing coughing fit. Slim winced at the painful sound. How helpless he felt! Unable to think of any other way to help, he sat by the bed and rested a hand on Jess’ good shoulder, remembering how, when he was ill as a child, he always felt comforted by his mother’s touch. He hoped Jess would feel better knowing that someone who was concerned about him was right there, but suspected that once he felt better, Harper would give him hell about it. Still, he could put up with that as long as Jess was okay.

Jess lay there, eyelids growing heavier as the drug claimed him, and said nothing. However, he was very aware of the gentle touch and Slim would have been stunned to know just how much he appreciated the gesture, being unable to recall any occasion where anybody else had genuinely cared a fig for his comfort and well-being. It was strange how he could feel so ill and yet so happy at the same time. With that confusing thought he drifted off.

When he awoke the next morning, he was momentarily disorientated. He came awake with a jolt, but lay still while he sorted out what was going on. He made a swift inventory of his aches and pains. His head was fuzzy, his eyes were stinging, his throat hoarse, his chest felt like a heavy object had crushed it, his left hand was throbbing and his right shoulder was sore as well. “I’m a bit of a mess,’ he mused, peering blearily around.

His eyes fell upon a snoring Slim Sherman, hunched uncomfortably in the chair alongside him. Jess smiled affectionately. ‘Trust old Slim to have sat with me all night. He really is a caring sort. I suppose I really should try to cause him less trouble,’ he mused, ‘but I don’t suppose I’ll manage that. Anyway, he’d probably just think I was plotting something.’

He reached out his heavily bandaged hand and tapped Slim on the thigh. Slim started. “Wh-What?” He turned hurriedly to Jess. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, f-fine,” Jess rasped.

“Sounds like you’d better have some water,” Slim said, hurriedly pouring a glass.

Jess went to take it and realized, with the thickness of his hand bandage and with the other arm in a sling, he could not do so. “Damn,” he muttered in frustration.

“Sorry, pard, you’re going to have to depend on me for a few days,” Slim said, as he used one arm to raise Jess and held the glass to his lips with the other. “Still, I guess it’ll keep you out of trouble.”

Hearing the last phrase, Jess recalled his recent thoughts and wondered apprehensively, ‘Hell, is he developing into a mind reader?’ He fervently hoped not. It was going to be bad enough being depended upon Slim without that.

Seeing the look of disquiet, and comprehending part of Harper’s concern, Slim hastened to reassure Jess that the doctor reckoned he’d be able to discard both sling and hand bandage in a week, but would still need to take care.

‘A week! How in hell can I last that long?’ Jess thought in horror.

Watching his worried face, Slim asked, “Are you okay, Jess? Do you want me to get the doctor to bring you more laudanum?”

“No, I’m okay. I was just <cough> wondering how you going to put up with <cough> helping me that long,” Jess said, slightly deviating from his main concern as to how he was going to cope with being so reliant on someone else.

“No trouble, Jess. After what you did for me and for the others last night, it will be my pleasure,” Slim responded sincerely.

“Not for long it won’t! <cough>. I’m <cough> kind of a bad patient, Slim,” Jess confessed.

Slim grinned. “You know I had my suspicions about that last night,” he said.

“Yeah, but <cough> you still stayed <cough>. Thank you, Slim, I am <cough> grateful, but <cough> I don’t know if you’ll still <cough> believe that in a week’s time,” he added honestly.

“I guess it will be a ‘interesting’ week for both of us.”

At that point, the doctor entered the room, ready to examine his patient. “You go and get some breakfast, Slim,” he suggested.

Slim got up and stretched awkwardly. He would not recommend that chair to anyone. “See you later, Jess. Be good!” he added and exited hurriedly before Harper could frame a retort.

His first stop was their hotel room for a wash. Then, feeling somewhat revived, he went downstairs to the dining room. The fire was the main topic of conversation. Looking out at the badly damaged saloon, Slim could only be grateful that no lives had been lost and that the townsfolk had managed to stop the fire spreading to other buildings.

Slim had just about completed his meal, when Mort entered the room. “Morning, Slim. How’s that ranch-hand of yours?”

“Sore, but hiding it. He’s still at the clinic, but Doc Wilson says he’ll be fine.”

“Good! That was a brave thing he did getting those people out and then for that damned Creedy to …”

Slim interrupted, “Have you found him?”

“Not yet, but we haven’t been out of the town yet. One of my deputies checked his room and found an empty bottle that had had lamp oil in it, matches and a crowbar. So it seems we can lay the fire at his door.”

“I thought he might have been responsible.”

“Yeah, it seemed too much of a coincidence to me too. I had a look around the saloon. Part of the ground floor survived and there’s a window at the back that looks like it was jemmied open by the marks on the sill.”

“When are you heading out after him?”

“In an hour or so. Everyone’s pretty bushed so we decided to leave it till about 9.30. You coming?”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll give it a miss, Mort. I think the doc might discharge Jess today and I want to get him home.”

However, the day did not go as either man hoped.

The doctor decided Jess needed a day in bed and announced he would not be discharging him until the Monday morning in spite of his vehement protests. Slim only managed to pacify him by promising to obtain tickets on the early stage.

The posse returned in the early evening, having found no trace of their quarry. Further, Mort had telegraphed a description of Creedy to all surrounding towns, but nobody had responded with any useful information.

Then to cap it off, Slim met Monica in the street and she blamed everything on him. “All my dresses are burnt and I’m out of a job,” she complained bitterly. “If you’d left Creedy alone none of this would have happened.”

Overhearing this, Josie and Judy had leapt to Slim’s defence. Josie pointed out to Monica, in no uncertain terms, that Slim had been trying to help her when he got into the fight.

“I’m sure I didn’t ask him to,” Monica whined.

“No, but you didn’t try to stop him either. You’re just a little troublemaker. I’ve watched you stirring up the men to fight over you.”

Then Judy added, “And as for your job, I didn’t see you carrying water to try to help stop the fire. You were down that fire escape and away up the street without a thought for anyone else. Even worse, you didn’t care who might be trapped. I know the top of the stairs turned out to be impassable, but you couldn’t have known that. You didn’t even try to get to the children like I did.”

Monica glared at the pair. A string of curses, that made Slim blush hotly, issued from her shapely lips and she turned on her heel and flounced off.

Josie put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry about that, Slim. I got the impression you might have been a little sweet on her, but it’s better you know what she’s really like.”

“I guess so. Nothing seems to have gone right for me on this visit. I think I should go back to the ranch and stay there for good,” he added ruefully.

“Don’t do that, Slim,” Judy said. “We’d miss you and Josie and I’d both like a chance to get to know your friend too.”

“Speaking of Jess, I’d better go and check that the doc hasn’t strangled him. He’s not the best of patients.”

He bade the women goodnight and walked towards the clinic, reflecting that actually one good thing had come out of the fiasco. He and Jess had forged what he hoped would be a lasting friendship. Certainly, if it could survive the trials that he envisaged in the week to come, it would be a friendship that could survive anything.

*******************

Sunday had come and gone. Andy had spent the day eagerly anticipating the return of Jess and Slim. The driver of the only stage that passed through Laramie told them there had been a fire and the saloon had been badly damaged.

“I wonder how Jess caused that,” Jonesy joked, as they watched the stage drive away.

“Aw, Jonesy, you’re getting as bad as Slim for blaming Jess for things,” Andy protested.

“Anyway, I guess they’ve probably got involved with the fire-fighting and clean-up, so that would explain why they’re late.”

“You don’t think they could have got hurt or anything, do you, Jonesy?”

“No, Slim would have taken care. Your brother’s sensible.”

“What about Jess?”

“Now he’s different. If there was trouble, he would have found it.”

“Don’t you like Jess, Jonesy?”

“I never said that.”

They went on with their chores. By bedtime, Jonesy was also starting to get worried, but hid 

it from the boy.

***********************

However, the early stage on Monday, put a whole new perspective on things. Andy saw it coming down the hill and gave an excited whoop as he realized Slim and Jess’ horses were tied behind it. “Jonesy, Slim and Jess must be on the stage!” he shouted with delight.

The stage stopped and Andy tore open the door. Slim emerged and Andy and Jonesy stared at his bruised countenance. Andy turned to Jonesy and said, “I thought you reckoned Slim would be the one that stayed out of trouble?”

Slim turned back and helped Jess down. Both stared at the battered figure, moving awkwardly, with his left-hand heavily bandaged and right arm in a sling. “Was I wrong?” Jonesy asked Andy.

The irrepressible Jess grinned and rasped painfully, “Yep! You <cough> might have trouble <cough> believing this, but all this happened <cough> because Slim picked a fight in a <cough> saloon. Let me tell you about it.”

“You’re not telling anyone anything. It’s bed for you. Doctor’s orders,” Slim announced, wrapping an arm around Jess’ shoulders and steering him towards the house.

Andy looked at Jonesy. “Slim didn’t deny it,” Andy whispered in some surprise. “Anyway it looks like they’re getting on fine now,” he added.

Both smiled as they watched a protesting Jess Harper being gently but firmly shepherded towards the house by a determined Slim Sherman.

THE END.

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