It was a truly magnificent early spring morning. A morning made all the more special by the
fact that it followed the toughest and most brutal winter anyone who had lived
in the Wyoming territories for the past thirty years could recall. It had taken its toll on animal and human
alike. As the willows and cottonwoods transformed themselves into
the glowing soft greens that would soon herald summer, the hearts and minds of
all creatures – animal, bird and human, warmed by the strengthening sun and
lengthening days, were drawn as they had since the very beginning of time to
the most fundamental of prime directives– the urge to reproduce. In a large, sturdily fenced in corral just beyond the main
barn of the Sherman ranch, the young stallion, just entering his fourth spring,
snorted and postured in hopes of catching the attention of the relay mares in
the lower field. He threw his thick
wavy black tail up over his back, arched his long elegant neck and pranced up
and down the fence line. Rapidly
becoming bored with this, he dug in his powerful hind legs and galloped with
youthful abandon, kicking out from time to time at imaginary obstacles in his
way. He was proud, magnificent and full
of himself. He was the first son of the
renowned Fly or as she was known around the area, “The Sherman Mare” - the
greatest trotting horse the territory had ever seen and the Morgan stallion
known as General Bob both direct descendants of the very first Morgan horse –
the legendary Justin Morgan himself. Both his sire and his dam had passed on to him their kind
natures and intelligence. From his
mother he had inherited also her incredible speed and beauty and from his
father, his impressive size. While
Morgan horses tended to be fairly small, he like his father stood nearly 16
hands high. Both had managed to attain
this height without sacrificing any of the power and strength that Morgans were
famous for. He was a fitting tribute to
his parents and to his breed. His name
was Flash and it wouldn’t be long before he would be as famous as his
mother. But he would do it his way and
in his own time. “He has a good look about him,” Slim Sherman thought idly to
himself. Now where the heck had that
come from, he mused. Then he recalled
that was what his pa always said about a horse he was especially taken
with. Only Slim Sherman wasn’t watching
any horse. He was standing on the
sidelines of the first town dance of the spring, enjoying a glass of punch and
the sight of Jess Harper expertly guiding yet another of the local beauties
around the makeshift pavilion in the center of town. It never failed to amaze him that Jess, his friend and partner of
the last five years, could be so wary and shy around the ladies most of the
time and then turn into nothing less than pure poetry on the dance floor. Even after all this time, he was still
discovering new and fascinating sides to his complex and often contradictory
companion. First there was his
appearance. Just looking at him at
ease, he appeared almost angelic – what with those deep blue eyes and
impossibly long thick eyelashes. He
wasn’t overly tall or heavy but rather possessed a neat, lithe compact body
capable of performing the ranch work of any three ordinary men. His normal bent was to be kind and polite, if perhaps a tad
skittish where the ladies were concerned.
He was a fiercely loyal friend and the best drinking buddy a fellow
could ever ask for. But stir him to
anger and you had a tornado on your hands.
How those blue eyes could blaze!
And he would wade into a fight with a whole crowd of men twice his size
and as often as not come out on top.
He’d beat them back with sheer guts and determination. He was now much slower to take umbrage than
he had been when they had first met, but when he did go into battle, he’d see
it through to the bitter end. “Hey, these ladies can’t read minds ya know.” Jess slapped his partner on the shoulder
jolting him out of his wool gathering.
“If you want one to dance with ya, you’re going to hafta’ ask one and
not just stare at her.” “Mortified, Slim tried desperately not to blush. What would Jess think if he knew whom he’d
actually been staring at? He looked
around in some desperation, his eyes finally fixing on the young Miss Abigail
Warner. Without further delay, he
gallantly took her arm and ushered her towards the punch bowl. “Ya know, Slim,” Jess leaned towards his partner, slurring
his words slightly, “these wimmin ain’t got but one idea in their heads these
days and that’s to rope, hogtie and put their brand on the two of us.” “Now maybe it’s somethin’ in the water but
it just seems to me that gals that just the other day were perfectly normal
like, an’ now they got that crazed look in their eye. Like you and me was some kinda prized bulls or somethin’.” “Well, Jess,” Slim replied.
“Speaking strictly for myself, I guess I can kinda understand how they
might wanta use the word bull an’ me in the same sentence.” Jess chuckled and began to choke on his beer winding up with
a resounding belch. “Slim, I’m sure
there’s many a heifer out on the range that looks to you with lust in her heart
but when the ladies here are daydreamin’ about their perfect man, it’s about
me.” Slim laughed until his sides ached. “Daisy is going to have our hides if we
don’t get headin’ home soon. You know
she’s mad as a wet hen if we make her stay up half the night waiting to let us
in.” The two men settled their bar bill, passionately kissed the
saloon girls goodnight and headed out into the dark Laramie street to search
out their horses. Finally finding said
horses and after having tried with varying degrees of success to out do the
other in the area of creative mounting techniques, they loped happily out the
Laramie road towards home. “Damn it, Jess,” Slim grumbled as he tromped into the
bedroom. “You know damned well that it
was your damned turn to take care of the damned horses.” He paused as he stumbled over a boot left in
the middle of the floor. When the only
response he got for his tirade was a soft snore, he glanced over at the far
bunk only to see Jess sprawled fully dressed with one boot on and one boot off,
sound asleep. Plopping himself down on
the edge of the bunk, he vainly tried to rouse his partner. All he got for his trouble was a bit of
unintelligible grumbling. Giving up, he
rolled him over on his back. “You know
how Daisy feels about boots in bed,” he admonished as he struggled with the
remaining boot. It suddenly came free
and he was aware of drowsy blue eyes peering out at him from under thick
lashes. “An’ I know your fakin’ – don’t
you go thinkin’ I can’t tell” With that, Jess abruptly pulled up the covers and rolled
over on his side. Slim gave him a
good-natured swat on the backside and returned to his own bunk. This ritual had played itself out with
numerous variations many times over the years that they had been friends. No matter how exasperated he became with
Jess, his antics never failed to make him smile. Ever since that first morning when he discovered the dark haired
stranger dozing next to the creek with his horse tied right up to his no
trespassing sign, his normally serious nature had been constantly at odds with
Jess’s teasing and irreverence. It
occurred to him, as he drifted off to sleep, how dreadfully he would miss him
if ever he were to go away. “Slim! Jess!” Daisy
called in alarm. As the men came
running from the barn, Daisy Cooper tried vainly to chase off the marauding
young stallion by flapping her apron at him.
He stood expectantly by the kitchen door with the remains of a
clothesline and a generously cut pair of lady’s bloomers entangled around his
ears and neck. “This is the second time
in a week he’s jumped out of his corral and it’s got to stop!” “There, there, Miss Daisy,” Slim soothed. “He’s just lookin’ for some more of those
apple peelin’s you used to give him when he was a baby.” “Well he’s no baby now,” Daisy retorted. “its high time one of you got him broken to
saddle and out there working. This is
what happens when a youngster has too much time on his hands – er hooves.” She laughed in spite of herself and standing
on tiptoes, retrieved the bloomers. Jess clipped a lead-shank to Flash’s halter and led him back
to his corral with Slim following close behind. “Daisy’s right ya know,” Jess said, stroking Flash’s soft
silky nose. “He’s as ready as he’s goin’ to be. One of us needs to be getting’ on him.” “I know,” Slim replied.
“The way I see it, his owner by rights ought to be the one to back him.”
“Well, I guess then, that’d be you since you won his mom in
that poker game.” “Yup,” Slim said softly.
“That’s about how I figure it.
And as his owner, I’m giving him to you. I’ve had the pleasure these past few years of ownin’ Fly – now
it’s your turn. “ ‘Sides, he’s
been considerin’ you his ever since he first laid eyes on ya.” Jess stared at him open mouthed. “An don’t you be givin’ me any grief. You’ve got a mornin’s worth of work to do
repairin’ Daisy’s clothesline and adding more rails to the corral – an’ Mike
an’ me have got some serious fishin’ ahead of us.” With that he smiled broadly, punched his partner in the arm
and wandered off towards the house in search of Mike. Jess gazed up into Flash’s huge expressive eyes. “Well fella, looks like it’s you an me. I just hope I’m good enough for you.” Jess stepped back to admire his handiwork and to wipe the
sweat from his brow. The new
clothesline was a masterpiece if he did say so himself. Startled, he felt a small hand on his arm. “I’ve brought you some lemonade,” Daisy said
brightly. “You were so engrossed in
your work, you never even heard me.” “Thanks,” he replied, drinking it down in one long
gulp. “That sure hit the spot. Say, did Slim happen to mention anything to
you about givin’ me Flash?” “Oh, well not exactly but I know that’s always been his
intention. There’s been a strong
connection between you and that horse – like the two of you were meant to be
together - right along with Slim and Mike and me,” she said laughing. Then giving him a quick hug, she said,
“come on in and have some lunch. You’re
going to need all the strength you can get if you’re planning to ride that
creature.” “Jess! Jess! Look what I caught!” Jess had tied Flash to the
hitching post by the barn and had been brushing him when Mike came galloping
down the drive brandishing a string of fresh caught trout. “Good goin’, Tiger.
Didja’ leave any back in the creek for the rest of us?” “Weeell, Slim says I musta got ‘em all since there weren’t
any left for him but I think he just fell asleep and forgot to put his line in
the water.” “That’s our Slim for ya,” Jess replied. “Guess I musta kept him out too late last
night.” Slim came jogging up a few moments later. “Mike, you take those fish up to the house –
Daisy’ll help you clean ‘em.” Then
seeing that Jess had brought out the old saddle they used for breaking colts,
“you fixin’ to ride him?” “Seems like as good a day as any.” “Need a hand?” “Naw, I should be ok – wouldn’t mind if you hung around a
bit though, you know, just in case.” Slim smiled. He knew
Jess would never come right out and ask for help and he also knew that few men
in the territory were more capable of doing the job right than Jess was. He was unaccountably pleased that Jess had
asked him to stick around. Flash had worn a saddle many times over the last year. Slim and Jess, when they had a moment, would
gently place it on his back and slowly cinch it up. Then they would lead him around, letting him get accustomed to
the feel of it. As Jess put it on him
now, he simply gazed calmly ahead. This
was no big deal. When Jess slipped the
light snaffle bit between his teeth and pulled the bridle up over his ears, he
still stood quietly for he had also worn it before. When Jess led him to the corral, he still remained unfazed. Heck, this was old hat. It was only when Jess carefully tightened
the cinch a bit more that his senses became aroused. He had come to know Jess so well that he could feel the
anticipation and excitement in him and maybe, just maybe, a tiny bit of worry. Jess stroked the great bay stallions neck and spoke
soothingly to him. He glanced over to
Slim who was sitting on the corral fence, made brief eye contact and then when
Slim nodded his encouragement, he placed his foot in the stirrup and swung
easily and lightly into the saddle. For the smallest of moments Flash was confused. First Jess had been there and then he was
gone. Then when Jess spoke to him again
and continued to stroke his neck from up on him, he relaxed. He was aware of the additional weight on his
back but it caused him no concern. As
long as his Jess spoke to him and touched him, he would be just fine. “Okay fella,” Jess said softly as he gently applied a quiet
leg pressure. “Let’s walk on.” Flash took his first steps awkwardly, trying to balance
himself with his rider. Jess sat
quietly and within a few more strides Flash began walking more and more
confidently, his ears flickering forward and back constantly seeking Jess’s
voice. Jess kept the lightest of hold on the reins and guided him
around the corral just using his legs.
The reining would be training for another day. After about ten minutes of walking in circles, Jess gave a
little chirp and applied a bit more leg pressure. Flash got the idea at once and moved into a slow and somewhat
uneven jog. Again, Jess gave him the
time he needed to adjust himself and soon his jog smoothed out and became more
regular. As both horse and rider
relaxed, Flash’s ears slowed their restless flickering and pricked straight
ahead. This was the beginning of the
rest of his life. What he was bred to
do – to work and to be a partner with his human. He was now a horse with a job and that was just fine. Slim watched on in awe.
No matter how many times he had watched Jess work with young horses, he
never ceased to be amazed at the trust and confidence they had in him. There was never any loud yelling or macho
posturing. Just firm kindness and
patience. It was no wonder that a
respected selling point for a horse were the words, “Jess Harper broke
him.” Even with all that, the obvious
rapport between the spirited young stallion, the son of his beloved Fly, and
his partner and best friend was such a joy to behold that he knew he’d be
smiling about it for a long time to come. As the weeks stretched into months and the spring to summer,
young Flash received the education he would need to be real working ranch
horse. It would not be enough that he
be a sire of beautiful horses. In the
west of the 1870’s, all horses needed to be able to work – there was no room
for pets or pretty playthings. Flash learned to obey his rider’s most subtle commands
without question. To hold perfectly
still while his rider fired a rifle pointed practically between his ears. To stare down the most recalcitrant
cow. To be steady and brave and always
a gentleman. His only fault appeared to
be his boundless enthusiasm and passionate desire to please his owner. If Jess asked for a lope, he galloped. If Jess pointed him at a maverick steer, he
would chase it to the end of the earth if that was what Jess wanted. Jess found himself, more often reining in
his star pupil than encouraging him.
The bond between them grew stronger and stronger as they worked
together. The ever-faithful Traveler now became Mike’s horse. Mike had grown up considerably that summer
and was beginning to be a real partner in the ranch operation. Traveler took great care of him and many
remarked that Mike rode him exactly the way Jess had. Fly watched all these goings on from her pasture behind the
house with a serene sense of pride.
Every spring since Flash’s birth she had bestowed upon her owner one
fine baby after another. The Sherman
barn was beginning to accumulate an impressive row of kind, well-built Morgans
– the very image of their famous dam.
This year’s offspring was a doe eyed filly that Slim had aptly named
“Fancy”. Flash’s reputation had started to grow as well and it wasn’t
long before ranchers from all over the territory – some from as far away as
Denver – had dropped by to see “that colt outta the Sherman Mare”. It also wasn’t long before they began
inquiring as to when they could bring their mares to him and how much it would
cost. Slim and Jess discussed the subject in depth as they held
their “business meetings” boots up on the railing of the front porch of the
ranch house. Not strictly limited to
business, these meetings were one of their favorite ways to pass an evening
over coffee after the chores and hard work of the day were done. After careful consideration they decided that they would
limit Flash’s first year to just ten mares – mares of their choosing. The fee would be low as Flash was untried
but hopefully they would breed him to mares of such quality that it would
justify a much higher fee in future years.
One half of the proceeds would go into the general ranch coffers with
the balance being placed in a fund to purchase purebred unrelated mares for
their herd. Dave Hutchinson, the owner of Flash’s sire had taken a
particular interest in all of this. As
a result of Flash’s reputation, his stallion’s stud fee had risen
considerably. A fine horseman in his
own right, Dave saw the value both short and long term of Flash having an
opportunity to breed to only the finest mares possible. Not only had he promised to put Jess and
Slim in touch with Morgan breeders that he knew in New England, he also made
arrangements for no fewer than three of his finest purebred mares to visit
Flash in the spring. Thus as the long languid days of summer shortened into the
crisp golden days of autumn, a general sense of hopeful and happy anticipation
settled over the small household of the Sherman Ranch. It was a chilly overcast September morning when Dirk
Ingraham came calling to the Sherman Ranch.
Mike was at school, Daisy in the kitchen baking bread and Slim and Jess
were just sending the morning stage on its way. Dirk and the men of
the Sherman ranch had a long history.
The scion of a family who had made their fortune in the China trade,
Dirk was a weak, poor excuse of a man.
Never having had to work or show any sort of accountability for his own
actions, he had grown up wild and mean.
His own family had sent him west after he had become involved in a
scandalous affair in Boston involving both an upstairs maid and the daughter of
a prominent local politician. The original idea had been that Dirks father would send him
some of his best breeding stock from his racing stable on the north shore. Out in Wyoming where grassland was
plentiful, Dirk was to breed the mares with local stock in hopes of ultimately
breeding a racehorse both fast enough and strong enough to take on the best the
east had to offer. That had been the plan.
In actuality Dirk had proved himself to be not only a dreadful horseman
but also a remarkably bad judge of horseflesh.
Foal crop after foal crop was a disappointment. And to top it all off, he brought with him
his crude and uncouth ways with the ladies.
He soon became a persona non grata with every self-respecting family in
the territory. The legendary encounter he had had several years prior with
his father’s best trotter and Slim and Jess with their Morgan mare had really
sealed things. From that day on he had
vowed to get even. Now with the
pressure on from his father to arrange to breed their best mare to a stallion
standing at the Sherman ranch, young Dirk was both livid and spoiling for a
fight. As he reined in his lanky chestnut, Dirk regarded the
immediate environs of the Sherman Ranch with disdain. It galled him no end that he was here in the first place. It seemed almost as if it were yesterday
that Sherman and that hired hand, Harper he recalled, had so beaten and
embarrassed him and his champion trotter with that damned Morgan pony of theirs
– and right in front of the widow Fowler to boot! He’d give a lot to get even and he was sure his time would come
but for now he had more pressing business. “Hey you, Harper!” he yelled. Jess froze and then slowly turned around. “Yeah.” My pa sent me over to deliver you a message. Says he’s willin’ to breed Pandora to your
stud. Now bear in mind that I’m totally
against this but he says if you was to bring that stud over to our place next
week, he’d return him when he was through.
We wouldn’t expect to pay you nothin’ of course seein’ it’s our champion
mare.” Jess took a deep breath and sauntered slowly over to
Dirk. “With all due respect,” he
drawled. “Flash’s book is filled for
next year and even if we had an openin’ Pandora ain’t the type of mare we’d be
looking to breed him to.” Dirk leapt off his gelding and stalked stiff legged up to
Jess. “Just whata’ you sayin’ boy? You sayin’ our mare ain’t good enough for
your stud?” “Ain’t a matter of good enough or not,” Jess replied
calmly. “First of all it appears as
like you an’ your pa are breeding strictly for speed and we ain’t in the racin’
business. Secondly, everything you bred
so far is all legs and no bone. Sure
they’re fast when they’re young but they ain’t got the bone to support them
bodies – one wrong step an’ those legs shatter like glass. Slim and I are breeding horses for workin’
cattle and providin’ remounts to the cavalry – fancy racehorses like yours
don’t have no place around here.” Dirk took a deep breath – oh how he’d love to wipe that self
satisfied smile off that cowpoke’s face.
“Okay, Harper, I’m a reasonable man.
If you don’t want to breed your stud to our mare, then just name a price
and my pa and I will buy him – we’ll be sort of doin’ you a favor for all
you’ve done for the community.” “He ain’t for sale – not to you and not for any price. Now me an’ Slim got work to do so if you’ll
excuse us.” With that, Jess turned his
back and strolled off to join his partner. Dirk stood for a moment fuming and then snatched up the
reins of his nervous gelding – climbed awkwardly aboard and galloped off, arms
flapping. He’d get even. It was the opening day of Laramie’s very first harvest
celebration. The entire town was
atwitter. There would be all the usual
contests – pie bakin’ , pumpkin growin’ – pickles, moonshine. If it could be grown or made they’d have a
competition for it. There’d also be
tests of strength and speed for the young men and for the more adventuresome, a
good old fashioned flat out no holds barred horse race. The race would start at the hotel – go
straight out Main Street, make a large loop around the church and then charge
back up Main Street and end in front of the Courthouse. Even though the entries were far from
confirmed, betting was fast and furious. Daisy had made herself busy with the women’s club booth and
Mike had caught up with a group of his school friends. Slim and Jess sat astride Alamo and Flash
observing the festivities. “Ya know
this town’s come a long way, Jess,” Slim remarked. “When I was a kid, this
street was always six inches in mud and God knows what else. You wouldn’t even think of comin’ this far
without your hand on a loaded gun – just look at it now –we’re in some danger
of getting’ civilized.” Jess laughed as he waved to one of the saloon girls. “Thank goodness somethings never change –
what would we do without them gals?” “Get hitched I suspect,” Slim responded dryly and together
they jogged up the street. Down by the hotel the horse race was just getting
organized. Last minute entries were
paying their fees and runners were going up and down the street collecting
bets. “Hey, Harper,” a voice called out. “How’s about a little side bet – all or nothin’?” Jess looked behind him to see Dirk coming up
behind him riding his father’s gray thoroughbred stallion, Apollo. Coming up very close so that no one else could hear, he
said, “It’s really very simple. You
enter your stud in this race. If I win,
I get him and no harm comes to that kid of yours – if you win, no harm comes to
that kid of yours – like I said, real simple.” “What have you done with Mike?” Jess hissed. “He’s safe enough – for now. Whattya say?” Jess glanced over to Slim who was presently engaged with
chatting with a number of the local townsfolk. “Okay Dirk”, Jess said evenly, feigning a far more casual
attitude than he felt. “Jes supposin’ I
go along with ya – what happens after the race?” “Why you get Mike back and this little chat we’re havin’
never happened,” Dirk replied with a sneer.
Jess searched with his eyes frantically up and down the
street but there was no sign of Mike. The race was quickly assembling. He thought frantically.
There was no time. No time to
search. No time to think. He just couldn’t – wouldn’t take a chance
where Mike was concerned. Running his
fingers through Flash’s thick mane, he finally made up his mind. Wheeling the stallion around, he joined the
other contestants at the end of the street. The riders sat their dancing horses at the start line. The head of the city council held his
revolver up over his head and pausing just a moment the better to sustain the
suspense, fired. Flash couldn’t believe this was happening. All he had to do was run his heart out and
his rider would be happy. Rarely had
his directives been so simple. As the
adrenalin rushed through his veins, he leapt forward – gravel flying behind him
and set his sights on the tall gray stallion leading the pack. As the pack neared the church the leaders surged forward
leaving the many stragglers behind.
With his powerful hindquarters, Flash dug in around the turn and emerged
back onto Main Street solidly in the lead. Dirk’s Apollo, though faster on the straightaway, lost
considerable ground on the turn. Jess guided him grimly.
He knew the thoroughbred was by far the more experienced racer. He also knew his Flash possessed power and
drive that was thus far untested.
Keeping him in perfect control as they cleared the church, he then
leaned forward and urged the young stud to go for it. Flash responded with an amazing surge of speed and strength
easily outdistancing Dirk’s mount. As
they streaked towards the finish line, Jess was horrified to see straight ahead
of them, a small child pull away from his parent’s hand and run directly into
the street. Sitting up straight he
yelled “Whoa!” Responding valiantly as
he had been taught, Flash sat back on his haunches and began to slide to a
halt. Seeing an opening, Dirk pushed
his mount in front of Flash. As the
child suddenly appeared in front of him, Apollo shied violently to one side missing
him. As he came down on his right
foreleg, the toothpick thin limb snapped and the huge stallion cartwheeled
against the blue September sky. Unable
to avoid him, Flash crashed against him with a sickening thud of flesh and
bone. Dirk was thrown clear and landed
with his neck at a decidedly unnatural angle.
Both horses rolled heavily over Jess’s prone body with Apollo winding up
lying still and unmoving, his back broken.
Flash struggled to his feet and stood on three legs, his sides heaving,
and his body white with foam. Horrified, Slim ran to his fallen partner. As he reached him, Jess was just regaining
consciousness. Seth Andrews, their
friend and family doctor arrived at exactly the same time. Looking up at Slim, Jess frantically
implored, “Where’s Mike?” Laying a strong hand on Jess’s chest, Seth said, “Don’t try
moving. Just tell me where it hurts.” “Mike, where’s Mike?” Jess demanded frantically. “He’s right over there with Mose and Daisy – he’s fine –
he’s been there right along,” Slim assured him. “And Dirk?” “He’s dead,” Slim replied softly. “And Flash?” Slim stood up and went over to where several bystanders were
holding him. He was obviously in deep
shock – a huge gash opened up across his shoulder exposing torn muscle and
bone. He was shaking, his great eyes
reflecting the incredible pain he was feeling. Slowly he went back to where Jess lay writhing
uncomfortably. Seth was examining him
and it didn’t look like he was pleased with what he was finding. Seth looked up at him.
“I think his pelvis is broken – it’s important that we don’t shift him
around any more than we have to.” And more quietly, “he can’t move his legs.” “Slim!” Jess called out weakly. “What about Flash?” Slim crouched down beside his friend, grasped his hand and
said in a voice filled with grief, “Not good Jess – he took a hard hit.” Several men had taken down a door from one of the local
establishments and were carrying it to where Jess lay. As they prepared to lift him onto it, Jess
looked up at Slim and with all the courage he could muster implored of his
friend, “Don’t let Flash suffer – promise me you won’t let him suffer.” Solemnly Slim nodded his head and wearily rising up took
Flash’s rein and slowly led him, hobbling behind the livery stable. Drawing his revolver, he carefully took aim
at the spot just above the eye and prepared to fire the shot that would end the
fine horse’s suffering forever. The
brave horse gazed calmly at him with kind understanding - forgiving eyes. The sound of the shot echoed off the surrounding hills and
reverberated right through Jess’s soul.
It was the last sound he heard before the huge dose of laudanum that
Seth had given him took effect. Seth Andrews sat with Slim Sherman and Daisy Cooper in his
small office. “I only wish there was
more I could tell you. Jess is extremely
fortunate in that there don’t appear to be any internal injuries. In accidents like the one he’s just been
through, this is quite rare. His pelvis
is definitely broken along with several ribs but there seems to be no
displacement. All we can do for him at
this point is to keep him totally immobilized for a period of four to six
weeks.” “What about his legs?” Daisy inquired. “You had said earlier that he couldn’t move
them.” “I don’t think he can now either but we can’t know for sure
without risking further damage to his pelvis,” Seth continued. “There’s so much we don’t know. He may have sustained some nerve damage and
that damage may be permanent or it may heal itself over time. At any rate, all we can do for him now is
keep him quiet and comfortable while he mends.” “When can we take him home?” Slim asked. Seth thought a moment.
“He’s going to require a lot of care.
Daisy, there’s no one around better to do that than you. I should think in a day or two. I just want to be sure he isn’t bleeding
anywhere he shouldn’t be first.” Daisy and Slim both nodded in agreement. “Well, that’s it then,” Seth concluded
abruptly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I
have another patient to tend to.” He
looked meaningfully at Slim but Slim avoided his eyes. Daisy looked on perplexed but made no
comment. Jess arrived home three days later in the back of Caleb
Haskin’s hearse. Under any different
circumstances, Slim was sure Jess would have found great humor in this but as
it was, it was merely the safest and most practical way for him to make the
twelve mile journey. Slim sincerely
hoped they wouldn’t be requiring Caleb’s services again for a very long time. Daisy pushed back an errant lock of gray hair and wiped her
hands on her apron. The past two weeks
had been for her a constantly changing prism of emotions. Jess, heavily medicated and snuggly wrapped
in wide wool bandages mostly slept.
With Slim’s help she kept him clean and got as much nutrition into him
as she could. Seth had assured her that
he was healing well and for this she was grateful. She had been totally unprepared for the amazing outpouring
of help and support from the neighbors and townsfolk. Twice a day crews from the nearby ranches arrived to help with
the stages. Others helped Mike with the
barn chores and as roundup time approached Slim had been assured that his stock
would be taken care of. Taking her
aside one morning when he found her weeping quietly, Mort Corey had explained
that these people were only too happy to have finally found a way to in some
part repay all the kindness and generosity the folks of the Sherman Ranch had
bestowed on them over the years. Her greatest concern at the moment was Slim. He had been acting strangely ever since the
accident. He hardly spoke and rarely ate.
He was growing startlingly thin.
Even more puzzling was that every night after dinner when he was sure
Jess was settled, he’d mount Alamo and disappear often not returning until
dawn. He became tense and moody. It all came to a head when Mike had
innocently asked him where Flash was buried.
To Mike’s shock and horror, Slim had virtually exploded, lashing out at
the hapless boy with words that hurt him far more than a hand could. He had then bolted from the house slamming
the door behind him. Daisy had found him up on the hill crouched beside his
father’s grave. She had knelt beside
him and wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly until the great
shuddering sobs had quieted. “Slim, it’s going to be alright. Jess is getting better.
You need to rest.” Slim shook his head.
“No Daisy, you don’t understand.
I’ve done a bad thing – an unforgivable thing. I just can’t talk about it now.” He stood up and gazed for a long time out over the ranch he
loved so much. Looking back at Daisy he
asked, “Mike in the house?” When she nodded, he walked of in the direction of the ranch
house. Later she saw him sitting with
Mike on the porch talking. She figured
that part at least was fixed. Jess had floated through the last weeks in a soft drug
induced haze. He was vaguely aware of
being touched and fed and talked to but all sense of time and place eluded
him. These were the good times. The bad times came later when the laudanum
thinned in his bloodstream and the echo of that last shot came back to haunt
him. The great gray horse flying
against the sky – Flash’s groan when he was hit and the sound of the shot –
always that dreadful final sound – the death of his friend, the death of his
dream. These scenes replayed
themselves over and over again until he felt Daisy put the spoon to his lips,
felt the sharp tasting fluid slide down his throat and then blessed
nothingness. “Daisy, its time we started backing him off the laudanum,”
Seth remarked as he put away his stethoscope.
“We’re going to have us an addict on our hands if we don’t.” Daisy nodded in agreement for she had seen all too often in
the army hospitals she’d worked in during the war, the ravages of opium
addiction. “Now this isn’t going to be easy,” Seth was continuing. “He still needs to stay quiet for another
two or three weeks. He’s going to be
anxious about his legs but he’s going to have to wait a while.” *************************************************************** “Don’t you think it’s about time for my medicine?” Jess
asked hopefully as Daisy settled herself by his bed with a bowl of gruel in her
hands. Daisy smiled at him and gave his arm a squeeze. “No you’re all set for now. You just need to get some food in you so you
can get your strength back.” Jess narrowed his eyes as the significance of her words sunk
in. “Daisy, it don’t take no strength
for me to lie here in this bed.” “But you won’t be in that bed much longer. Seth says that you can try sitting up next
week and the week after that; if you’re strong enough we may be able to try
getting you out of here. You must be
very sick of these four walls by now.” “You seem to be missin’ one small thing. I ain’t about to be walkin’ anywhere – not
now – not next week – not ever. Now are
you gonna get me that medicine or aincha?”
With that he turned his head away from her, bitter tears running down
his hollow cheeks. “Easy there, Jess,” Daisy cautioned as Slim propped him up
in bed with a number of pillows behind his back. “You’re bound to feel a little dizzy at first. Just close your eyes and it will pass.” Jess did as he was told and after a few bad moments the
light-headed feeling did go away. He
glanced briefly at Slim and Daisy’s anxious faces and then stubbornly turned
his face to the wall, maintaining a stubborn silence. “Well if you don’t feel like talkin’ then we’ll just leave
ya be for a while,” Slim said as he ushered Daisy from the room. “We’ll be
close by if you need any thing.” “Need anything! Now
that’s a laugh,” Jess thought. What he needed right now was a bullet – a bullet
right in the head, just like Flash.
Trouble was, he couldn’t get out of the damned bed and it was a darned
site unlikely anyone was about to leave a loaded firearm within his reach. He’d tried refusing food but Daisy hadn’t
been about to let him starve himself and consumed as he was with self pity, he
still couldn’t bring himself to hurt her feelings any more than he’d probably
already had. And damned if he didn’t feel crummy. Since the bandages had been removed, his
hips had hurt like a toothache. He knew
it was a waste of breath to ask for his pain medicine so for the last few days
he’d been suffering in silence. Finally
curiosity getting the better of him, he reached down and gingerly lifted up the
covers. He was appalled by what he
saw. His legs looked like matchsticks –
they looked worse than the legs of Dirk Ingraham’s racehorses. As quickly as the thought of Dirk and his
horses entered his mind, he quickly dismissed it, adding it to the growing list
of things he couldn’t bear to think about. His big toe began to itch and instinctively he turned his
foot so he could rub the offending toe against the sheets. As he did so a searing pain shot up his leg
and through his hip. He groaned and
then his eyes flew open wide as he realized what had just happened. Tentatively he tried bending his knee. Again the pain was fierce but the knee bent
– just like he’d asked it to. Could it be that Seth had spoken the truth? He’d been so angry and yes, he had to admit
it, scared that he’d shut out the possibility of any sort of a happy ending to
this whole sorry time. He sat there for a very long time thinking and when Daisy
came in later to check on him, he’d drifted off to sleep. Slim Sherman wearily sat his horse trying desperately to
stay awake. Alamo, now accustomed to
this routine, headed directly home and stopped obediently in front of the
barn. It was nearly dawn and once
again, there would be no time for Slim to grab any sleep before starting the
morning chores. After turning Alamo out in his corral and securing a cup of
coffee from the kitchen, he returned to the barn. As he often did nowadays, he
stood by Fly’s stall sipping his coffee seeking solace in her kind, quiet
presence. “Oh girl,” he said.
“What have I done? What am I
gonna do?” The beautiful dark mare sighed softly and pressed her head
against his arm. They stood like that,
man and horse, in the dark fragrant stable watching as the dawn turned to
morning. Finally Slim looked down at her and said, “Fly, you always
know just what to say.” With that he squared his tired shoulders and marched into
the house. “Daisy! Mike!” he
called. “Come here. I have something to tell you.” That evening under cover of darkness a strange wagon came
rumbling down the drive. It was a low
covered affair obviously makeshift. Jess was roused from his uneasy sleep by the noise of the
wagon and the murmur of voices. He
thought it odd but then dismissed it and went back to sleep dreaming a pleasant
dream of dark horses and endless western prairies. He awoke in the morning feeling strangely happy and well
rested. And something else
besides. A feeling in the air that he
couldn’t quite put his finger on. A
sense of anticipation maybe. At any
rate, he was also hungry and as the smells of breakfast drifted in, he
struggled to pull himself up into a sitting position, actually looking forward
to eating. “Why, Jess,” Daisy exclaimed with pleasure. “I haven’t seen you eat like that since…”
she trailed off and quickly changing the subject said, “Slim has something for
you – he went to a lot of trouble to find it.” Before she could go any further, Slim appeared in the
doorway pushing a strange looking object.
“What’s that?” Jess asked, eyeing the contraption suspiciously. Slim whipped off the blanket that covered it to reveal a
somewhat battered and obviously much used wheelchair. Jess stiffened immediately.
“If you think I’m getting’ into that thing, you gotta another thing
comin’,” he growled. “I knew you’d be ornery about this,” Slim said evenly, “and
you just go ahead but if you think I’m going to pick you up and carry you
around this place while you finish getting better, you got another think
comin’.” Jess knew he had a point but if he got in that thing, well
heck, he might just as well hang a sign saying “cripple” around his neck. “And what make’s you think I’m getting better,” he
retorted. “Well you ain’t getting worse are ya?” As Jess pondered that last comment, Slim continued, “I know
when you’re fakin’ and pard, you’re fakin’ right now. I know you want to get out of that bed and get outside. You been stuck in here for over six weeks
now and that’s a long time for an outdoors boy like you. Now, are you going to get in this peaceably
or am I going to have to wrestle ya?” Jess chuckled in spite of himself. “Ya going ta put some clothes on me first?” he asked. It sure felt good to be outside, Jess thought. Feeling the thin November sun on his
face. The smells of wood smoke and
horses – amazing he could now think of horses without waves of grief washing
over him. How he’d missed all
this. How glad he was to be back out
here even if he was in this damned chair all covered up by heavy blankets. He took a deep breath and looked up to his
partner and grinned. Slim grinned back at him.
He had his partner back at last – at least for the moment. Would he forgive him when he found out about
the secret? The only thing in all the
years they’d been friends that he’d ever kept from him. Well he’d gone this far; he might as well go
the rest of the way. As they neared the barn door, both men grew anxious. Jess dreading the sight of what wouldn’t be
there – Slim dreading him seeing what was. As Slim pushed him down the center aisle past Alamo and
Traveler, towards Fly’s stall, the little mare stuck her head out and nickered
an eager welcome. Jess held out a
trembling hand and stroked her nose. It
felt so good – so familiar – so like… well he guessed he still couldn’t quite
think about that. At the far end of the barn was a large corner box stall –
Flash’s stall. Jess was surprised as
Slim continued to push him towards it.
He looked up at him questioningly but Slim was staring grimly ahead and
said nothing but kept pushing. And then time stopped.
As they approached the stall a head appeared over the door ears pricked
with interest. A fine dark muzzle
pushed forward and a pair of huge intelligent eyes glowed with recognition and
happiness as they fixed themselves upon the man in the wheelchair. Jess was stunned.
Laying a hand on his shoulder, Slim said gently, “You need to see this.” He opened the door and pushed Jess forward so that he could
get a better look. The stallion
nickered a deep low rumble and pressed his nose into Jess’s hand. At first Jess just sat there gazing at his
horse’s face. Then he lifted his eyes
and took in the entire scene. It was
Flash alright but he was painfully thin, his once glistening coat now
dull. Slashing across his now wasted
shoulder was a raw pink hairless new scar. Jess sat quietly, never taking his hand from Flash’s
nose. Then he looked at Slim and asked
the question Slim at been dreading.
“Why?” Slim stared out the barn door and struggled to get his
emotions under control. Finally he
knelt down in front of Jess and laying his hands on his knees said in a voice
rough with sadness and worry, “When I made you that promise not to let Flash
suffer – when I went to put him out of his misery – I failed. I couldn’t do it. I fired that shot up into the air and then hid him in the livery
stable. I didn’t tell you because I
really didn’t think he was going to make it.
It’s been real uncertain right up until now. I couldn’t bear to have you lose him twice.” Jess continued to stroke his horse’s face. “But how – how
did you manage all this?” “I had a lot of help.
Seth actually sewed him up and made up the poultices and all. Mort and Mose and Ben – even the gals from
the saloon all took turns tending him during the day – they were the only other
ones who knew. I’d head out after
dinner and tend him through the night.
Sometimes it got real bad, Jess.
Real bad. But he kept comin’
back and he fought with everything he had.
So that’s it. I just hope you’ll
come to understand – and forgive me. I
figure from this point on the two of you can finish up your mendin’ together.” From that point on both horse and man mended quickly each
drawing new strength from the other.
Every morning Jess needed less and less help from Slim to get dressed
and into his wheelchair. Slim had
rigged a series of ropes in the barn that Jess could use to pull him self up
with. Holding the rope with one hand,
he would stand brushing Flash for ever longer periods of time. It wasn’t long before Flash’s dull coat
attained its former gloss. As Jess’s legs grew stronger with use, so did Flash’s
shoulder. As soon as he could manage
it, Jess began leading him around the corral, steadying himself first on Slim
and later by using the fence. Finally one day in late January, Jess found himself alone in
the barn with Flash. Daisy and Mike had
gone to town and Slim was repairing some fence up behind the house. On an impulse he took down Flash’s bridle
and slipped it on him. Then looking
about outside for something to stand on, he led Flash to an overturned wooden
box. Flash stood perfectly still like
he’d been taught as Jess slowly and painfully climbed up onto his bare back. “We must be a sight,” Jess thought. “Skinny, battered and bruised but heck we’re
still standin’.” He slowly walked him up to the house and then up to where
Slim was just gathering up his tools.
He walked him right up to Slim, looked him in the eye and quietly said,
“Thanks, pard.” If you were to travel to the National Museum of the Morgan
Horse in Shelburne Vermont, you’d find hanging on the wall in an obscure
corner, a framed and yellowed photograph of a large handsome Morgan stallion
being ridden by an equally handsome cowboy.
The cowboy is staring at the camera – possibly the first time he’s ever
seen such a contraption – with a mixture of good humor and curiosity. Behind them stretches a vast western
prairie. The picture is labeled “Harper’s
Morgan 592” and is from a collection of early western Morgan memorabilia
donated by the estate of the late Caroline Sherman Worthington of Laramie
Wyoming. Now if no one is looking and you are very careful, you can
take down this picture and turn it over.
On the back, written in a spidery hand, are the words, “Jess and Flash
1886” Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter 12
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter 14
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
The End
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