The Cat

Slim realized he was talking to himself. Jess had checked out of the conversation and Slim was still nattering on. He smiled at himself. He was relieved. More than that, the fear that tied a giant knot in his belly was beginning to loosen its grip.

When he had finally gotten Jess back to the line shack after over an hour of slow plodding across rough terrain, he had struggled to get him inside. Finally resorting to picking him up and carrying him in. At that point, Jess hadn�t been able to contribute anything. Once Slim got him inside, he had to go back out to take care of the stock, and then he could concentrate on the matter at hand. There was a small barn. A very small one, not much more than a shed really, but at least it would provide some shelter for the horses. There was some oats left over from last year in the bins. They�d be okay for a few days.

When he had cut Jess� pant leg and removed his boot, what he had feared was staring him in the face. The leg was grossly misshapen, broken in more than one place. The ragged edges of the bones were displaced by an inch in some places. Most of Jess� pain was caused by that. If he could get the bones aligned and then splinted tightly, the pain would be minimal. The fever was worrisome, but Slim could see no infection, no wounds at all. Spending a freezing night out in the open and not being able to move didn�t help the situation.

Slim had labored for hours on the leg. He had set bones before, but only arms and the occasional finger. He didn�t realize how much strength it took to set leg bones. It was a two-person job, and he was exhausted when he finally finished. Slim had made Jess drink as much of the whisky as he could stomach. Jess had finally started feeling sick, so Slim had to stop. He didn�t need him throwing up on top of everything else. Taking his boot off had been the last insult Jess could handle. He had gracefully passed out, for which Slim was exceedingly grateful.

Even though he was exhausted, he hadn�t been able to sleep. He kept watch to be sure the fever didn�t get out of hand, and to keep replacing the oilcloth pouches he�d fashioned to hold the snow for Jess� leg. Frostbite was one more thing they didn�t need, so he had to keep the snow off of the exposed skin. He replaced the pouches every hour or so, and watched the swelling. It seemed to have stalled after ballooning up when the boot came off.

Slim knew he could rest now. Jess would probably sleep all night. Slim went back to the stove where he had been working before Jess called him. He gave the stew he had heated one last stir and then dished it up on a plate and added a hot biscuit. He took his small glass of water, and the plate and sat at the rough wooden table in the center of the room to eat. He wanted some of that whisky, but decided he�d better save it for Jess if he needed it.

Jess shifted in his sleep, trying to turn over. Jess had always been a side-sleeper, but the heavy, tucked-in blankets prevented him from moving very much. Slim smiled and resumed eating his dinner. They had eaten many good meals in this cabin. This wasn�t a particularly memorable one, but being the only thing Slim had eaten all day, it was a feast.

He began thinking about Daisy and Mike. They�d be worried sick if he didn�t come back with Jess soon. But Jess wouldn�t be able to ride for at least several days. Once the fever was gone, and he had gained some strength back, it would just be a matter of getting him up on a horse. He wouldn�t have to get down until they got home. He wished there was a way to get word to Daisy.

Tomorrow, he was going to have to release the cattle that Jess had rounded up, or they�d starve in the corral. They�d have to take their chances with the snow and the mountain lion. He hated to lose them, but he couldn�t get himself and Jess home and drive fourteen or fifteen head of cattle at the same time.

After he finished eating, Slim got up and put his dishes in the sink. He�d take care of those tomorrow. He put some more wood in the fireplace and in the stove and then dimmed the two lanterns that hung over the table, lighting the room. He went over to Jess and felt his forehead. No better, but no worse either.

He dimmed the lamp by the bed and then went to lie down on the second bunk. He took his boots off and swung his long legs up, putting his hands behind his head and looking up at the ceiling. It was a dry cabin, and it was warm. There were no windows, but there were thick walls, a front door, and a small back door for emergencies. His father and him had built it to last and had used it once or twice a year.

He glanced over at the main post that supported the roof in the middle of the small room. In the dim light, he could just make out the initials carved in it. MS was up high, and then SS was a bit lower. One year he had told Jess to carve his initials too, but Jess had refused saying it was for the builders. He was just a visitor.

He was more than that. Slim knew it, and he hoped that Jess knew it too. He wished his father had been able to meet Jess. He knew that Matt would�ve counted him as another son, just as Slim counted him as a second brother. Slim was the only Sherman left on the Sherman Ranch, but he and Jess and Daisy and Mike were as much a family as if they all had the same last name.

Slim hoped that his father would be proud of what they had built. Without the stage line contract, the ranch would�ve folded years ago. But above that, he and Jess had worked hard and now the ranch was self-sustaining. They no longer had to have the stage contract. It helped of course. Certain times of the year could still be tough, and it would take one catastrophic winter or year-long drought to do them in, but such was the gamble of this life. But it was a life Slim loved, and wouldn�t trade for life in a town.

What happened to Jess today was a hazard of ranch life. He didn�t know exactly what happened, but it didn�t matter. Jess could take care of himself, he�d proven that many times, but accidents will happen. That�s why they had each other, to back each other, to help and to care what happens. That�s what families do.

Slim closed his eyes and listened to the sounds outside the walls of the cabin. The walls were thick, but he could hear the movements and the low moos of the cows in the corral right on the other side of the wall. He heard the occasional coyote and then, as if answering, he heard the call of the mountain lion. It was close, and the cattle were nervous. He listened for a few more minutes and didn�t hear any more. The cattle were quiet, and even the coyotes had settled down. The cat may have encountered enough humans to know that he should stay away. The cabin was obviously occupied, so maybe he wandered off to safer areas.

One thing he remembered his daddy teaching him was that mountain lions weren�t stupid. They normally weren�t man-killers and would leave you alone, if you left them alone. He didn�t understand men who went out hunting them for the sport of it. They didn�t eat them, just wanted a rug for their house.

No matter what happened yesterday, the lion could have killed Jess, and didn�t. For that, he was content to allow it to roam and live off his land for as long as it could. He promised himself that before he left this year, he�d post no-hunting signs up in the area. He knew it probably wouldn�t do any good, but it would make him feel like he gave something back.