Laramie Swimming Lesson

I've always found it difficult to believe that someone as physically competent as Jess actually doesn't have the key survival skill of being able to swim. It gives rise to some laughs, but has never really rung true for me. So, if he can swim, why does he say he can't? And what prompts him to finally admit the truth? This story attempts a possible explanation. It obviously picks up on the end of 'Fugitive Road' and also links briefly to 'The Run to Tumavaca'. (Thanks to everyone who's done different takes on the latter!).

The great stories and characters of the original series are hereby gratefully acknowledged – all power to the writers and actors who gave us so much to work our imaginations on! I haven't read everything everyone else has written (give me time!), so any overlap of ideas is entirely accidental and unintentional, although I must be indebted to someone, somewhere, for naming the horse!

Is the explanation for the apparent lie a plausible one? Well, be generous - logic was never Jess's strong point! And it was just fun working it out!

**Swimming Lesson**

Jantallian

"You know your chores, Andy!" Slim Sherman set down his coffee with a decisiveness that brooked no argument. The sun was pushing the horizon at the dawn of another hot summer's day and there was so much to be done.

"Sure," Andy responded, "but I reckon teachin' Jess to swim ought to count as a chore –"

"Thanks! I thought you hated chores?" growled Jess.

He was on his third coffee and looked slightly less black-dog than he had when he had dragged himself reluctantly from his comfortable bunk half an hour ago, but the household had already learnt to walk warily around the young Texan until well after he had despatched a sound and hearty breakfast.

Jonesy shook his head at Andy warningly. Slim shifted his chair back from the table, ready to provide rescue, if need be, should Jess's irritation explode, as it so often did, into something more drastic. It would be interesting to see how he balanced his pride and his temper against his obvious affection for Andy. And Andy was certainly asking for some retribution – he was taking shameless advantage of the frequent ribbing that Jess had put up with from all of them on the subject of swimming.

"After all, Slim," Andy continued blithely, 'you said yourself, if a man can't swim when he's grown –"

"Once more crack from you, Tiger, and you'll be swimmin' in the horse-trough!" Jess's threat was delivered with ferocious-looking scowl, but Slim thought he could detect just a glint of amusement in the other man's bright blue eyes. Slim eased forward in his chair and picked up his cup again. Nothing was going to happen to his younger brother that he did not richly deserved.

"An' you can stay wet all day, too!" Jonesy added his piece. "Thems clean clothes and you ain't getting' no more for a week."

"I guess I'll be wet all week anyway." Andy retorted, then added, unwisely, "It's taken more'n a week to get him to take one foot off the bottom!"

"Andy!" Slim intervened, but his brother continued recklessly," It's true and you said no Sherman is afraid of the truth! Jess is takin' longer'n anyone I ever knew to learn."

There was a slightly ominous pause.

"Don't kick a man when he's down!" Jess muttered. "You weren't goin' to tell!" He was looking down into the coffee cup in front of him, masking the grin that was trying to match the glint in his eyes. Two sets of caught breath were released thankfully: conversation with Jess was liable to be like picking your way over primed cases of dynamite. Andy, however, had no such inhibitions.

"Slim's a right to know – he told me to teach you."

"Not if you both skip off the chores – " Slim began, but Jess cut swiftly across him to demand of Andy: "You want me to duck him instead of you?"

"Well, you're too slow to catch anyone but him!" With this last insult and a quick look at Jess's face, Andy sprang to his feet and took a vault out of the open window into the yard. Jess's movement as he slammed out of the door after him was almost too quick to follow.

Jonesy and Slim looked at each other. They heard two pairs of boots thud across the yard, then there was the sound of scuffle and a muffled yelp from Andy, followed by one set of steps that receded in the direction of the said water-trough. They held their breath and their laughter. In the distance, Jess's gravelly tones demanded, "Now you give me one good reason why I shouldn't do this!"

"Put me down!" Andy sounded as if he was struggling with laughter as well as his captive position. "You can't do this, Jess – you heard what Jonesy said."

"One good reason!"

"'Cause you'll sure as hell be left to drown if you do!"

There was a splash and another yelp from Andy, then they heard Jess growl, "That was for swearin' – which saves you from a tongue-lashin' from Slim." This was followed by the sound of the low chuckle that they had come to recognise was his own mocking of himself. "I don't doubt you'll save me from drownin', Tiger, but just let me keep my bad habits to myself."

Jonesy caught Slim's eye meaningfully, but the young rancher looked away almost immediately. Then the door opened and Jess propelled Andy in – a wet Andy, but only his head and shoulders. They were both grinning.

"Glad to see you take some notice of what I say 'bout the washin'," Jonesy remarked, taking in Andy's relatively dry condition. "Neat job, Jess."

"He picked me up by the heels!" Andy's explanation was half laughing, half chagrined.

"Serve you right," his brother told him. He shot Jess a look of thanks, as the younger man picked up his coffee again: it cost something to admit your swearing was not to the good and he appreciated Jess backing his house rules. But the sun was above the horizon now and a long day ahead. "Work," Slim said firmly, "and no fooling!"

The sun was well past noon when Jess had completed his share of the work. He had retrieved the strays who had taken advantage of a broken fence on the south-west boundary, and mended the fence with some difficulty, as it wasn't really a one-man task. Then he disposed of the cause of the problem, a huge rotten tree brought down by some recent lightning, even though this meant returning to the ranch for an axe and saw – never something with which a horseman would willing encumber himself.

He was thirsty, back-sore and covered in sawdust and earth from his struggle with the tree, but the neat stack of logs gave him an unexpected sensation of satisfaction. Now though, with the tree cleared, there was no shade. Traveller, standing patiently by the fence, rested a back hoof and shook his head against the flies, which were beginning to take an interest in Jess's sweaty condition too.

"Need waterin', both of us," Jess told the horse. Traveller snorted in agreement and butted his owner firmly in the stomach. "Water" was one of the words Jess had taught him to recognise. Another butt was followed by taking a mouthful of Jess's shirt and giving a firm tug. There was a ripping sound and Jess cursed under his breath, then laughed.

"All right, you old devil – we ain't that far from the top lake. Could do with a swim."

Once mounted, though, he took a good look round the place, noting that the steers were already drifting away to find some shade in which to pass the heat of the afternoon. He checked the fence in both directions, before turning Traveller uphill towards the slip-rails some way above. The horse needed no urging but picked his way eagerly up the rough mountainside in a direction they both knew well.

The top lake was not strictly on Sherman land, unlike the lower one at which Jess and Slim had had their first and hardly amicable encounter. Jess grinned to himself at the memory. He'd been a fool to relax that close to the road and had most certainly deserved to be caught napping by Slim. It had just seemed like a good place at the time. That was something Slim said often – a good place – this ranch and maybe this territory. But right now, Jess was heading for something preferable. This lake, unlike most open water, was no-one's particular claim. It was small and set in a little south-facing valley, whose sides were so steep that no-one in their right mind would try to get more than a single animal down to it. Added to this, as Jess had quickly discovered, it was very deep almost from the edge and this again made it little use for large-scale watering of herds. There were no trails anywhere near and the valley mouth looked out to a wide horizon that seemed, on a clear day, to stretch all the way to Texas.

Jess stretched thankfully, his sore muscles reminding him that this bout of tree-chopping had not been powered by the usual burst of bad temper needed to get him started on such a task. He could sure do with a soak and shedding some of the debris that was clinging to him. But first he watered Traveller, while restraining the horse from plunging into the lake. Trav also relished a good swim but Jess was not sure he'd get out again up the steeply shelving bank. Instead he stripped off saddle and bridle and, with the help of his hat, splashed as much water as he could over the horse, a process which resulted in them both dripping copiously. At this point, he decided he might as well swill off his wet clothes in the lake too, but first he made sure Traveller understood that he was to stay in the shade of the small clump of trees that edged the bluff and its little lawn of deep, soft grass. The horse appeared to have no objection, but lifted his head once or twice to watch as Jess built a small fire and put some coffee on to heat. Satisfied that they were staying a while, Traveller turned his full attention the grass, which was unexpectedly lush for full summer.

Meanwhile, Jess had stripped off, dunked his denims and shirt in the lake until they were relatively clean, though probably not up to Jonesy's standard, and spread them to dry next to his hat on the hot rocks nearby. He hesitated a moment over keeping his drawers on. Jess had no particular issue with nakedness, but he did have a rooted objection to the advantage it gave other people, particularly if they were shooting at him. Not that this seemed likely in the circumstances. The valley was so well-hidden and isolated that the likelihood of being jumped was small and in all the times he'd been there, he'd never seen another living soul. That was why he liked to come there. Quiet and no-one asking questions, not to mention the opportunity for a real swim. And his gun was carefully concealed within grabbing distance of the water's edge. On the other hand, you never knew …

There was a swift flurry of movement and Traveller flung up his head and snorted. His owner's lean body arched in a shallow dive from the little bluff they were on and disappeared without a splash into the calm waters of the lake. When his head broke the surface some moments later, the horse had already dropped its own and was making the most of the grass.

Treading water, Jess shook the drops out of his eyes, relishing the smooth caress of the clear water against his sweaty skin and the sensation of being clean again. But it was a mountain lake and not one to linger about in treading water, even in summer. He rolled over and struck out for the head of the lake, moving with a smooth and powerful over-arm stroke that scarcely broke the surface of the water, a long ripple being the only trace of his passage.

He'd swum maybe two or three times round the lake – being so small it wasn't much of a challenge just down the length – and then turned on his back, floating and watching the sky turn dark turquoise, almost the colour of his own eyes, and shimmering with the full heat of the afternoon. Not a bird cut the sky nor any cloud moving. Time for a siesta, a smoke and a coffee, before heading back to the next round of inevitable work. Jess drifted lazily, giving an occasional leg-kick to keep himself on course along the shore, but in no particular hurry to make landfall again. Sometimes he wondered why he'd ever signed up for this regular work stuff with its interminable chores, when he could be making out like this on his own.

His peaceful thoughts were abruptly shattered by an alert from Traveller, who threw up his head and whinnied, his ears pricked in the direction of the upward path to the lake. There was no mistaking – this was a greeting to another horse he knew well. There was no mistaking either when the familiar chestnut coat of Alamo flashed over the lip of the valley and paused as his rider surveyed the lake.

"Hell 'n damnation" Jess said.

Heading down towards the south-west boundary, Slim was whistling softly under his breath, well content with the way the morning's work had gone. The morning stage had been serviced through promptly, with no hitches, and Andy was really pulling his young weight, determined to prove that he could do the job as well as Slim or, more probably, Jess. The ranch chores were finished and Slim's own particular tasks in the blacksmithing line completed and the forge shut down and cooled well before the sun's heat really began to strike at noon. Andy and Jonesy were both ready to head for the house and a well-earned sleep in the heat of the day. For Wyoming, it was going to be real hot.

Slim pushed back his hat, wiped away the sweat and jammed it back on again. He could have stayed at the ranch and rested, but he wanted to see how Jess had made out – that boundary break was a lot for one man. If they finished it together, maybe they could cool off in the little lake above, provided - reminding himself that it was pretty deep - he took care to make sure Jess didn't drown. He remembered vividly the time he'd pulled Jess out of that river on the Lolo trail, and offered thanks that, despite their heavy clothing and boots, he'd been able to manoeuvre them both to safety. He remembered Jess struggling to breathe and remembered as well his struggle to explain, with unexpected humility, 'One thing I never learned how to do was to swim.' If he was honest – and Slim was nothing if not honest – he'd been pleased to find something Jess couldn't do with that taut, laconic grace that characterised his every movement. Pleased too that he was temporarily humbled and coughing his lungs out, even though Slim had been quick to reprimand himself for this uncharitable reaction.

He whistled softly as he considered the place this volatile young drifter was carving for himself among them. Every stage seemed to be fraught with potential misunderstandings and often with outright fights. Slim was under no illusion that the outcome of these was predictable and had learnt early on that Jess was a formidable and none too scrupulous fighter, who, despite an apparent slightness of physique, could hold his own against considerable odds. That he was stubborn and loyal to exasperating extremes had become all too apparent and also that he clearly had trouble with the notion that others might accept him and be willing to take risks for him. Slim's whistling was interrupted by a gusty sigh – then there was the problem of Andy. Maybe he shouldn't have let Andy bait Jess, even if the outcome hadn't damaged anyone this morning. He didn't think – no, he _knew_ somehow – that Jess would never willing hurt or endanger Andy, but he had not considered so far how much Andy might be hurting Jess. No man who had such a realistic estimate of and justifiable pride in his own physical skills should be subjected to constant reminders of the one area in which he was not proficient. Slim sighed again and then grinned to himself – maybe he'd better take a hand and make sure Jess made some positive progress in the water – maybe this afternoon was a good time for a swimming lesson. After all, that was what he'd joked about when he'd saved Jess that time.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a good size bunch of steers, bedded down in the shade of a bushy gully. Looked as if Jess had got them all back in, he noted with approval, as he counted them swiftly. Shortly after this, he hit the boundary fence line, turned Alamo up hill and came to the where the break had been. He reined in and surveyed the site closely, noting the well-mended fence and the neat log pile. He was impressed at the amount of work that had been completed. Time for some appreciation of a job well done. But where on earth was Jess when he deserved to be appreciated?

Slim scanned the mountainside in both directions, but there was no sign of the bay horse or its erstwhile owner. Nothing moved except the shimmer of the heat-haze. Not even a cloud or the slightest breeze broke the deep, turquoise blue of the afternoon sky. Now what did that remind him of? Turquoise – and still. He recalled his intention to swim in the lake. Well, even without Jess, he'd head up there and cool off. Heaven only knew where an experienced drifter would hole up for the heat of the day, but it would undoubtedly be shady and well-hidden. He shrugged and urged Alamo upward.

He hadn't travelled far the other slide of the slip-rails before he realised another horse had been up there before them. His tracking skills were nowhere near as good as Jess's, but whoever had made this trail was not attempting to hide it. Slip marks on the rocks and fresh divots of earth confirmed that the other horse was not far in front of them. Slim eased his rifle ready for action and paid closer attention to making a quiet passage for him and his mount. After all, you never knew …

"Hell 'n damnation!" Jess let himself float almost under the surface of the water and considered his options. Slim was too far away to have spotted him yet, but it could only be a short time before he found Traveller, the fire and Jess's clothing. Then there would be all hell to pay! There was no way Slim was going to accept any explanation for what he would consider blatant lying. Especially where Andy and the swimming lessons were concerned.

Jess sighed, forgot to shut his mouth and got a throat-full of water. Spitting it out gave him an idea. After all, Slim had not actually seen him swimming. What Slim would undoubtedly see was him drowning. Drowning yourself wasn't much of an option, but it was a whole lot better than another fight about their concepts of truth. He hated the idea of being rescued – again! - but was driven on by the subconscious fear that Slim might turn him off the ranch, unable to stomach the very real differences in their respective attitudes to life.

He sucked in a breath, submerged and swam in close to the shore, where he thought he'd seen something that might just help. Sure enough, there was a little log jam, brought down by one of the feeder streams in winter and conveniently caught against a rocky projection. With some difficulty, Jess forced out a sturdy branch. Hitching his arms over it, he began, with a lot of very inept and splashy leg kicks, to propel himself back toward the bluff.

"Easy, Trav!" Slim extended a hand to the star-faced bay, who, after a moment's consideration, ducked his head and lipped the hand hopefully in search of some oats or maybe a sliver of apple. Slim duly supplied a reward with that hand and ran the other down the horse's neck and flank. He was cool, so he'd been here some time, but slightly damp, as if … as if he'd been swimming! Surely Jess had more sense than to ride a horse into a deep lake like this, especially as he couldn't swim, or if he didn't, surely Traveller had?

"Where is he?" Slim asked softly, but Trav simply nudged him for further apple and, when this was not forthcoming, turned his attention back to the grass. Slim ran his eye over the little lawn with its fringe of trees and deep grass. There was a saddle slung over a branch, with the bridle hitched nearby, but Traveller hadn't broken loose. Jess never hobbled or tied him, saying that the horse understood what his rider wanted him to do and could be trusted further than many men.

"Okay, he trusts you," Slim told the horse. "I wish I knew if he feels the same about me." But to this heartfelt wish, he received only a non-committal snort from Jess's closest companion.

"Where is he?" Slim asked again, scanning the area. There was a very small fire of wood so dry that only the aroma showed the presence of smoke. Balanced on the stones that surrounded it was the inevitable coffee pot – sure proof that Jess must be somewhere around. He was about to yell out a greeting when he saw, beyond the fire, spread out on a rock, a blue shirt with a predictable rip in it, a battered pair of denims and an all too familiar black hat. What in …?

His heart contracted in painful fear and he ran to the edge of the bluff and looked out over the lake. There was a frantic splashing below him and he had a blurred impression of someone with dark hair clinging desperately to a sinking log. Slim slung his hat and gun-belt away and, without even waiting to pull off his boots, dived expertly into the water.

Jess, steeling himself for the inevitable rescue, inhaled deeply and let himself sink. The water was clear and he could have seen what was happening, but he reckoned that if he was really drowning, he'd probably have his eyes shut and thrash around some. Consequently he found all too soon that he had misjudged his distance from the shore and, far from being rescued in a quiet orderly way, he was suddenly hit violently in the ribs, and, with the air driven out of his lungs, found himself going down into blackness in earnest. Slim had come straight to the rescue, but only at the cost of slamming into Jess with the full power of his dive.

From Slim's point of view, it felt more like a fight than a rescue and a fight that he was by no means certain to win. Even a drowning Jess still struck out with enough force to seriously disable attempts to pull him to the surface. His skin was smooth and slippery and his muscles twisted and slid out of Slim's grasp as if they had been oiled. There was no collar to grab hold of this time and precious little else by way of clothing. In a moment of surprising lucidity, Slim figured that anything Jess wore, including his underwear, was bound to rip due to sheer wear and tear. In desperation, he got one arm round the struggling Texan's throat and kicked vigorously upwards.

Rescuer and victim broke the surface in a flurry of spray and swearing. Jess made no attempt to keep either of them afloat, but, although he was only semi-conscious, just fought like a demon to get free. Slim, driven by fear that their tangled limbs would drag them both to the bottom, grabbed a handful of strong, black hair and hit him as hard as he could. Having momentarily put a stop to Jess's furious struggles, he used the brief respite to get them both to the blessed land. He crawled up the shallow ledge at the water's edge, dragging Jess by his hair and one arm. Once there, he was able to regain his feet and, getting both arms round Jess's waist, hauled him on to dry land. Jess slumped against Slim's chest, coughing violently and still swearing on every other breath. Slim, fearing to fall back into the water, tightened his grip on the slippery, uncooperative and distinctly ungrateful body, lifted the younger man forcibly off his feet and staggered up the grass, panting with exhaustion.

There were ten seconds of profound confusion and fury. Slim, caught between fear, anger and relief, wanted nothing so much as to shake Jess until his teeth rattled. Then he suddenly realised what he was doing - grappling the prickly Texan to him with an iron-grip – and a next-to-naked Texan at that - the drifter whose fierce independence kept everyone at more than just arm's length - the hair-trigger gunman into whose personal space you crowded at your peril. Jess, who had swallowed at least two more lungfuls of water than he had bargained for, was choking from a combination of lack of air, disgust at himself for getting into this stupid situation again and a totally unreasonable rage at the advantage in inches which enabled Slim to lift him right off his feet. In a furious convulsive movement, Jess struggled to regain his footing and Slim to grab him by his shoulders. The result was that Jess flew backward, struck his head hard on the ground, and rolled over several times to end up face down on the turf.

"What the hell did you think you were doing?" Slim demanded, standing glowering over him.

Jess muttered something indistinct.

"What the hell …"

Jess spat out a mouthful of grass and growled "Water-trough!"

"Don't you dare -" Slim had been going to yell 'lecture me', but his innate honesty forced him admit that the implied rebuke was justified. If he couldn't keep his own rules, then who could he expect to follow them? Instead he said between gritted teeth "This lake's a sight deeper than a water trough! Have you taken leave of your senses?"

Jess coughed violently and rasped back "Which ones? M' lungs are full of water, m' lip's split an' I feel like some damn'd mule just kicked me in the ribs!"

"Serve you right!" Slim retorted. "What the … what were you doing in the water out here where there's no chance one of us can haul you out when you start drowning?"

Since the response 'having a nice, quiet swim' was hardly likely to improve the situation, Jess contented himself with a muttered 'practising' and another fit of coughing. He badly needed to think and quickly came to the conclusion that, much though he loathed it, helplessness and inaction might buy him some time to engage in this uncongenial activity.

Slim glared at him, started to formulate a diatribe on what Andy would feel if this contradictory Texan really did managed to drown himself, realised that it would give Jess an emotional advantage and thought the better of it. Instead he hauled off his wet shirt, wrung it out and slung it on the rock next to Jess's. With controlled fury, he pulled off each boot in turn, emptied out the water and put them to dry too. Ruined boots were an expense that he could well do without. His hat and belt joined the boots, but not until he had fingered the belt with narrowed eyes and an uncharacteristically grim expression. It sometimes seemed that the only way would be to beat some sense into Jess.

Jess was still lying on his face, coughing sporadically, but he didn't sound as if he was actually going to die, which, Slim realised with resentment, came as a relief. All the same, he must be shaken up – Jess would never allow anyone to have so much of an advantage over him if he were in his right mind. Slim had seen him flat out, asleep, plenty of times, but always on his left side, one knee hitched ready for action and one arm free and flexed for his gun. Thinking of which, where was his gun? Jess without a gun was like … well, like Jess was out of his mind. But Jess's mind was working overtime on how to break it to Slim that his ideas about swimming were totally wrong. The fact that their current situation was bordering on the farcical did not help, as Slim's principles frequently outweighed his sense of humour, whereas Jess could feel a potential earthquake of laughter shaking him somewhere below his aching rib-cage. There were a number of good reasons why he chose to remain face down, not least because that way Slim couldn't see his expression. Slim hesitated, decided the rocks were too hot to sit on, and dropped to the grass next to him.

There was a lengthy and rather ominous pause.

After a while, however, Slim's basic good-nature and sense of responsibility for everyone reasserted itself. He stretched out a hand to touch Jess on the shoulder, but stopped abruptly. Maybe not. He decided instead on an obvious question.

"Hey, Jess …"

There was a non-committal grunt.

"How're you feeling now?"

The slurred reply was not encouraging. "Sleepy. 'S tirin' work, swimmin'." Jess stretched and yawned, but showed no further sign of moving from his spread-eagled position. Slim squinted at the cloudless sky and then down at the deeply tanned back below him, from which the last drops of water were rapidly evaporating. Soon Jess was going to be as hot as that rock. Slim's common sense took charge.

"Well, I didn't save you from drowning to have you die of sunstroke! If you're going to lie there like that, at least put your hat on!"

Given the minimal protection afforded by his only article of clothing, this struck Jess as ludicrously funny. Struggling to keep the laughter out of his voice, he muttered "You get it –'m too tired."

Things hung in the balance for a moment, until Slim, who had a vivid apprehension of what dealing with a delirious Jess might entail, resignedly retrieved the offending hat and tossed it neatly over the dark, wet hair and bare neck. Under the welcome cover, Jess allowed himself to grin. Then he growled in muffled, sleepy tones, "Thanks. Watch m' back, will y'?"

_Watch my back, will you?_

Jess had acquired, in the course of learning any number of useful survival skills, the ability to play dead. It served him well now. Knowing that the least tension would be clearly visible on his bare skin, he deliberately relaxed all his muscles and let himself melt into the grass. It would be his own fault if this swimming deception wrecked the fragile relationship that seemed to be growing between them. He really had to establish some unmistakable evidence of trust with Slim before this tangle of confusion could be sorted out. In a fight, you automatically covered the back of the man fighting next to you. In day-to-day life, though, you didn't so easily give charge of your security to anyone. Or at least, it was Jess's experience that doing so didn't generally pay off.

_Watch my back, will you?_

So he was putting himself entirely in Slim's hands. Well, not entirely, because Jess was automatically conscious of every sound and movement in the near vicinity, the location of the nearest cover, the proximity of his boot knife and gun, and the exact distance and time that would get him on Trav. But verbally, he had committed himself to Slim's care and could only hope that the young rancher would recognise what he had done, as a preliminary to recognising the truth of the glitch in their communication on the subject of swimming. This time it had to pay off!

_Watch my back, will you?_

But the fact remained that Slim was not going to appreciate how they'd arrived at this stupid situation in the first place and there was no easy way that he would accept a truth that had deceived him and was in a fair way to making him look a fool. Jess considered briefly the idea of just blurting out the real facts as quickly as possible and taking the consequences – but the consequences might hurt too much and even prove the final fault that would drive him from this place he was beginning to want to love.

Or maybe he could start putting it right where it began, in the water? After all, Slim had been the one to give him his first 'lesson'. He could become an awfully quick learner all of a sudden. All he needed to do was to take things nice and peaceful, wait till Slim calmed down and let him think he had succeeded in giving the swimming lesson to end all lessons. The fact that this proposal was another deception, with the potential to lead to even more trouble, did not cross Jess's mind. He rarely planned his actions with in-depth regard to the outcome, being a firm believer that the future could take care of itself, provided you lived vitally and immediately in the present moment. Exactly the philosophy that had led to his present predicament.

All he had to do, he thought hopefully, was to keep the present moment peaceful. The sun was blessedly hot on his bare back and he felt really warm for the first time since he arrived in Wyoming. It almost felt like Texas, like … home? He relaxed further down into the soft grass and dozed in earnest.

_Watch my back, will you?_

If he had been able to see, Jess might have thought that Slim was taking his request rather literally. Far from keeping an eye on the surroundings, Slim's gaze was focused on lean, brown back stretched out beside him, as he wrestled with the dilemma with which the owner of that back kept presenting him.

It wasn't fair. Jess, as he slept, had all the abandon and innocence of a child or a young animal. He looked as if he was utterly secure and nothing could possibly disturb him. He looked almost as young and vulnerable as Andy. Slim had to remind himself forcibly that he was nothing of the sort. He was a veteran of too many fights, too many killings, too much lawlessness for comfort.

_Watch my back, will you?_

Deceptively, that back presented smooth skin and strongly moulded muscle, relatively unmarked by the scars that would have been evident if he turned over. On the upper arms and shoulders there were some marks of bullet wounds, both entrance and exit, and there was a faint scar, maybe a rope burn, on the curve of his neck. The left side of the gently rising and falling rib-cage showed signs of an old break. The ribs themselves were better fleshed than they had been when he first arrived at the relay station, but were still too evident. Otherwise the smooth slide of the dark skin was broken only by some thin, faint scars below the shoulder-blades – probably from an old lashing. Jess had taken whatever his rough life had thrown at him face on. His back revealed what he did not easily show to anyone.

_Watch my back, will you?_

It wasn't fair – Slim was a firm believer in justice and it did not seem just that he should have this human dynamite thrown into his hard-working life and the security of his family. It didn't matter how charming Jess could be when it suited him, he was just trouble, starting with his reckless propensity for fighting and going on through a number of habits like his casual, habitual swearing to the reprehensible nature of his disreputable friends. Well, mostly disreputable – suddenly, for some reason, Slim found himself thinking of Laurel de Walt.

_Watch my back, will you?_

The impact of that woman was enough to take anyone's breath away, Slim's included, but she was far from disreputable, just devastatingly beautiful and totally immoral. It didn't take much imagination to understand Jess's reluctant compliance with her demands and his commitment to escorting her on her dangerous journey. A journey through wild, uninhabited country, far from the beaten trails, over-nighting in places as lonely and secret as this hidden bluff. Slim looked down at the lean, muscular body with its innate power and grace, and felt no surprise that Laurel had clearly not been averse to making use of Jess again. The sight of him lying there so contentedly made Slim wonder about those long nights on the trail, places like this with soft grass and relative security – but he brought himself up short, aghast and ashamed at himself for indulging in such personal speculation.

_Watch my back, will you?_

Besides, he had ridden back from Tumavaca with Jess – a hard, silent journey in which the Texan rode like a ghost, not speaking or eating, hardly drinking and scarcely aware even of the direction in which they were heading. If he had been, Slim was certain he would never have allowed himself to be guided back to the Sherman Relay Station. As it was, it was not until they were almost there, one night when the lift of the hills was familiar and the air laden with the smell of home, that something had broken. That night Jess had suddenly talked – disjointed, inarticulate words spilling out into the darkness as if he was scarcely aware that anyone was listening. Torn by loss and bitterness and self-loathing that shook his slight frame with a physical force like vomiting, he talked to tear out and bury the emotions that had betrayed him. Talked, too, as if someone heard who would not compound that betrayal with another of their own.

_Watch my back, will you?_

Did he trust Slim that night? Was he trusting him now? One moment it seemed to be the truth, the next that it could all be an illusion. This was not what Slim's upbringing and experience had led him to expect from someone to whom he'd offered friendship and the switchback emotions just didn't seem fair. But it didn't matter - Slim mentally caught himself firmly by the collar and self-administered at good shaking. He was an adult. He'd made a resolution not to let Jess's past affect his place with them, so what was he doing, whining about fairness? What really mattered was that Andy didn't get hurt through the avoidable demise by drowning of this human stray of his.

At least there was something he could do about that. Slim jumped to his feet with his customary decisiveness. He reached down and inadvisedly seized Jess's arm, to haul him to his feet. "C'm on, get up, there's work to be done! Only first, I came up here to give you a proper swimming lesson and that's what I intend to do!"

Shaken unexpectedly out his comfortable doze and none too pleased to hear the word 'work', Jess's good intentions evaporated like water on a hot rock and his never very reliable patience deserted him completely. With his free hand, he grabbed Slim's ankle and yanked him over in a heap. Before the surprised rancher realised what was happening, the younger man had leapt to his feet and was running down the steep lawn.

"You'll have to catch me first!"

Slim scrambled to his feet in pursuit, but it was too late. There was no chance of stopping Jess as he raced towards the edge of the bluff. Slim watched in horror as he hit the edge, poised for a moment as his leg muscles contracted for action, and then sprang outward in an elegant dive, his arched body describing a perfect semi-circle against the blazing blue of the sky. He seemed to hang in the air for a long moment before cutting through the surface of the water like a thrown knife.

Looking back afterwards, Slim was baffled by his own obtuseness at this point and his total inability to see the facts that were clearly staring him in the face. How on earth Jess had managed to pull off that dive he had no idea, but he was still convinced that the Texan was in imminent danger of drowning. To give him his due, though, Slim had twice saved Jess from that exact fate and in addition he had witnessed the singular lack of success of Andy's teaching.

At the time he thought of none of this. He ran to the edge and scanned the water urgently. For a long, long moment, there was no sign of anything, not even a ripple. Then he saw the briefest flicker that might have been a head breaking the surface but almost immediately sinking again. Slim took a sight on the spot and dived in.

The dive took him slicing down through the clear water but he couldn't see Jess anywhere. Running out of breath and trying hard not to panic, Slim surfaced, grabbed a deep breath and swam under again. It was a hopeless task. The water was twenty or thirty feet deep at this point and the translucent depths were full of shadows and movement. Where in the name of Providence was Jess? He couldn't survive long in these chilly waters, slowly suffocating as the air left his lungs.

Slim was about to surface again when the truth of this hit him - literally. There was a sensation of powerful movement right in front of him and something hard slammed with brutal force into his solar plexus. He gasped, choked, the water flooding into his mouth and filling his air-ways relentlessly. Like many good swimmers, Slim had never considered the primordial power that water has over man. Now he was learning the hard way. He could feel himself losing control of his body, there was a roaring like a tornado in his ears and the light was going from his eyes, a blackness sucking him down, down, inescapably down.

Something iron-hard was round his neck, adding to the choking. Something clenched painfully in his thick, fair hair. For a moment he was suspended between life and death, then he felt himself being pulled inexorably upward. After what seemed a lifetime, he broke the surface, half-conscious that someone had shifted their grip from around his neck and that two strong arms had caught him under the shoulders, turned him onto his back and were supporting him easily and safely in the water. He could see nothing but sky. He wanted to float, to swim, but skill had deserted him, he couldn't even breathe and his mind refused to make his body make the right motions. Against his back he could feel the strong thud of his rescuer's heart-beat and around his shoulders the inescapable grip of their hands. Envisioning, as he did, that Jess was somewhere, helpless, lifeless, at the bottom of that twenty feet of water, he wanted to shout and struggle, to fight to swim away, but he was tangled in weakness and confusion. It seemed the ultimate irony that Jess should drown while he, who could swim, was being saved by some third person, whose presence in the lake was a total mystery.

Dazedly, he felt this other swimmer, whoever he was, kick powerfully towards the shore. With every kick, the rib-cage against which Slim rested heaved with the effort. And with every pause of the in-drawn breath, explosive words grated in his ear: "Should … have … drowned … you … in the … damned … horse-trough … this mornin'!"

"J – j – ess?" Slim tried to speak and got another mouthful of water for his pains.

"Shut up!" A fist caught him on chin and sent him under again. There was a lurch as they hit the shallows together, but Slim was quite unable to stand. He was dimly aware of Jess's vice-like grip hauling him into a sitting position, but his body still stubbornly refused to obey him and his head was spinning from the blow and sheer lack of oxygen.

Jess stood over him, breathing hard. Slim had never really been in any danger, but teaching him the meaning of that word 'drowning' and repaying some of the indignities to which he himself had been subjected gave Jess immense satisfaction. His anger might be dissipating but he was not easily going to forget being hoisted off his feet and _carried_. Their relative difference in height and weight actually made no difference at all. Jess had been hefting timber and bull-dogging steers since he was much younger than Andy. It was just a matter of technique that enabled him to sling Slim unceremoniously over his shoulder, carry him up the lawn and deposit him on the grass with rather more force than was absolutely necessary.

"Now you know how it feels to be rescued from drownin'!"

"Don't kick a man when he's down!" Slim groaned. He shook his head, trying desperately to clear the water from his eyes and the fog from his ideas.

"Serve you right if I did! Of all the stupid, unnecessary –"

"But you can't swim!" Slim protested.

"Slim Sherman, are you blind or stupid or just so damn sure you're right that you can't see what's hittin' you in the face?" Jess sounded as if, without much more provocation, that was exactly what he would do.

"But you can't swim!"

"I was doin' just fine," Jess retorted angrily, "till some idiot rammed into me and near drowned me - twice!"

"But –"

"Don't give me any buts, mister. How the hell do you think I just pulled you out of that lake if I can't swim?" the Texan yelled in exasperation. "I suppose I ran along the bottom until I got to the edge, is that it?"

He stamped over to the horses, grabbed a saddle-blanket and flung it with considerable force and accuracy in Slim's face. "Get dried. I didn't rescue you from drownin' to have you catch some god-damn chill!"

Slim realised for himself what Jess had seen at once: that he was shivering uncontrollably, his teeth were rattling and his breathe was still coming in those ragged gulps and coughs that he'd watched earlier in the other man. Unlike Jess, he had had very little experience of being physically helpless and the impact had shaken him to the core of his being. He huddled thankfully into the blanket, trying to stop his head throbbing so that he could think, could understand how his view of the situation had been so suddenly turned upside down. His thoughts were not pleasant.

Jess hauled on his denims and his boots, regardless of the water still running off his body. He felt he had had quite enough for one day of giving anyone an advantage over him. He retrieved his gun-belt from its hiding place, his fingers automatically checking the loading and action of his gun, but did not put it on. There was going to be no good place for a gun in the ensuing conversation. He picked up his fallen hat and tossed it on top of the gun-belt, before turning to face Slim again. As usual, he was beginning to regret his impetuous actions and the exasperation that had driven him to administer this unnecessarily brutal lesson. He realised with a sinking heart that he had just run out of options.

Slim was looking at him with an expression that Jess recognised only too well. The light blue eyes were fierce with condemnation, but what really hurt was the pain and disappointment showing in the narrow line of his compressed lips.

"Slim, I – "

"You lied." The tone was as cold as the look. "You lied to me. And you lied to Andy!"

"Andy'll understand –" Jess began rashly, but he didn't get a chance to finish the statement.

"Yes, I bet he will. But he never understood lying before you can along – that's something you deliberately taught him!" Slim's voice was like steel and just as cutting.

"I didn't!"

"You did. This whole business is just one big lie. And you still expect me to trust you?"

"No - - - yes! Look, Slim, the truth ain't as simple as you think it is!"

"Truth?" Slim snarled. "What would a good for nothing gunslick like you know about the truth? You wouldn't recognise the truth if you were standing knee-deep in it!"

"An' you'll never recognise anything except your own damn self-righteousness!"

The pause this time was an ugly one. They'd both said more than they'd meant to. Slim was bitterly aware that he was going back on his own decision not to throw Jess's past in his face. Jess was cursing himself for using one of the things he actually admired about Slim as a weapon to attack him. They glared at one another furiously, both of them trembling with the violence of having said things they never intended. Then Jess half-turned away, with a shrug of resignation, as if the concept of truth meant nothing to him. Goaded beyond endurance, Slim finally lost control of his temper.

"Maybe the only truth you understand is when someone has forced you to give in to it!" He grabbed the younger man round the knees, toppled him to the ground and caught him with a haymaker on the way down. After that he proceeded to lay into him with all the strength he could muster. His first couple of blows were hard enough, but he was still weakened by shock of near-drowning and his actions, unlike his intentions, lacked something of their usual force.

"You and whose army?" Jess's contempt was obvious as he blocked the next punch, twisted the arm he had caught in a vicious grip and pinned Slim down with a little trouble as if he were throwing a calf for branding. The twisted arm was trapped under Slim's back and Jess's whole weight was thrown across his chest. Strong fingers lay lightly on his throat, but Slim was under no illusions about what damage those fingers could do should the owner choose to tighten them.

"Just for once," Jess told him quietly, "you are goin' to listen to me." He sounded more determined than angry, but Slim was in no mood to be discriminating about tones of voice.

"You've got nothing to say that I want to listen to!"

"You're goin' to listen." Jess repeated softly. "You'll listen if I have to beat the hell out of you just to make you do it!"

"And you think that would convince me?" Slim retorted. "Go head – get as violent as you want – it's the only thing you know!"

Jess favoured him with a sardonic grin. "I wonder just how often you've been beaten? Really beaten – the way I understand the word." He paused to let this sink in. Then he continued gently, "You're wrong, Slim. Wrong about the lyin' and wrong about what I said and wrong about pretty near every damn thing you think you know about this. If you're so keen on the truth, then hear what I've got to say." His left hand slammed against Slim's head, forcing him to look straight into those relentless blue eyes. The power of the blow made Slim bite his lip, but he was not going to give in. He spat away the blood and spat out his answer.

"I think I heard enough from you on the road back from Tumavaca!"

Jess's jaw clenched and his head jerked aside as if Slim had hit him in the face. He made an inarticulate sound and the steely fingers at Slim's throat tightened convulsively. The weight across his chest felt as if a mustang had decided to stomp on him. Darkness stifled him as it had when he thought he was drowning and lights flashed across his vision. He choked and struggled, knowing that it was useless. He'd witnessed this cold fury of Jess's once before - nothing short of a knock-out blow would make him break his grip.

Abruptly the grip slackened and the weight shifted as Jess got unexpectedly to his feet and walked away. For one horrifying moment, Slim thought he was going for his gun, but he knew in his heart that Jess would despise shooting any helpless, unarmed man, still less one who might once or twice have counted as a friend. From a little distance Slim heard him say through those clenched teeth, "I guess I asked for that."

There was a prolonged silence.

Then Slim heard the sound of shuffling over near the fire and the clink of a cup against the coffee pot. Jess's voice enquired in its perfectly normal gravelly drawl: "Coffee? It's a bit stewed."

Slim struggled into a sitting position, still gasping, and reached out for the proffered mug. His eyes blurred and refocused a couple of times as the coffee scalded down his aching throat. Jess was calmly rolling himself a cigarette. Then he lit up and reached for his own mug. "Throat still capable of swallowin'?" he asked casually.

"I'll live - just." Slim accept the tacit apology in the spirit in which it was probably meant, and added: "At least this tastes better than lake water."

"Yeah. I guess I owe you some kind of explanation for that."

"I already had it," Slim pointed out dryly, "when you were yelling that you could swim. I've told you enough times, you can save the rest!" His voice was still cold and his expression closed. Nothing could alter the fact that Jess had lied to him and, worse, to Andy. The subject might be trivial but the principle was not.

Jess looked sideways at him with that slight crooked smile that usually meant that he was up to some devilry or other. "You needn't bother arguing your way out of this one!" Slim snapped. He knew only too well the way that persuasive Texan drawl could make black seem white if the speaker wanted it to.

Jess sighed, balanced the half-smoked cigarette on a stone, took the empty mug from Slim's hand and busied himself with a refill. His real determination to sort out this stupid misunderstanding had reasserted itself through the welter of other raw emotions. It was a ridiculous situation and all his own fault in the first place. It was so idiotic that it still made him want to collapse into helpless laughter, but that certainly wouldn't help, as he doubted if Slim would see the joke. Andy would - Jess's expression softened as he thought of the kid - but never his ultra-serious elder brother. So the problem was how to get the real facts into Slim's stubborn mind without, Jess told himself severely, doing some permanent damage to him or his principles in the process. It would be no problem telling Andy, he thought in frustration - why would it be so much easier to get the true story across to a kid than to an adult ...?

He handed the full mug back to Slim, absently picked up the cigarette again and sprawled comfortably back on the grass, once more thinking hard – never an preferred option for him and one of which he had had entirely too much that afternoon. Deep inside him he could still feel that treacherous little spring of laughter bubbling up again, tickling him like Andy when he got teasing for another yarn ...

He looked sideways at Slim, who had downed the second coffee almost in one, and was half sitting, half-lying, propped up on his elbow. Jess leaned over and gave him a gentle shove in the chest. Answering Slim's challenge of several minutes before, he said: "Lay easy, Slim. I ain't gonna argue with you. I'm just gonna yarn."

Slim glared suspiciously at him, unable to work out what on earth this unexpected turn of the fight could mean. Why should Jess given in so suddenly? How was another tall tale going to help things? Or was it his way of trying to defuse the tension and overcome the hurt they'd undoubtedly caused each other? Defused or not, Slim was determined that he was not going to sacrifice his principles. But, said his sense of fair play, you can at least listen. He shrugged, then lay back thankfully on the soft grass, suddenly aware that the physical strains of their recent activities had his whole body begging for some rest.

While these thoughts were racing through Slim's mind, Jess continued quietly smoking. Presently he stubbed out the butt carefully, then drew himself up and settled into a cross-legged sitting position. He sat quite still for some moments, his vivid gaze fixed on a far point across the lake, maybe even in the land beyond. Then a trace of a shiver ran through him, he took a deep breath and began to yarn in the soft, deliberate and almost unaccented tones that were so different from his usual Texan drawl.

_I'd been drifting slowly north, stopping every once in a while, work here, place there, fight somewhere else. New places, new folks, but never anywhere for long. There were good folks and bad folks, but, you know, there's one thing I've found – they all see the truth of things from the point of view of where they're standing. Their spread, their saloon, their gang, their sheriff's badge, their ranch, their women, their family. Always from where they're standing. _

_I guess that's fair enough. _

_When you're on the drift, there are places and places, bosses and bosses – some honest, some crooked, just like folks. A drifter rides in, he's useful about the place, gets taken on. But then after a while he comes into focus – in relation to where that person, that boss, is standing and what that stand means to them. A gunman more so, of course, because no-one's ever really easy around a hair-trigger. So no matter what the truth of that drifter really is, that's how they see him. From where they're standing, he has no rights, no ties, no-one need take a risk for him. Truth is, he's the risk, from where they're standing._

Slim caught his breath painfully, knowing it was all too applicable to what his own reaction had often been.

_Anyway, I drifted north. Came one day on a little spread. Kid there offered me a meal. I hadn't eaten but cold rabbit and stale bread for three days and not much of that, so the offer was welcome. Nice kid – well-mannered, curious like any kid would be, seemed to see this stranger was weary and looking to stop for a while. Good place, good people, good boss – fair and honest. A place you could be useful around. So I stopped._

There was a pause. Slim wondered that he could encompass so much feeling and so many events so simply. Presently Jess went on:

_Then came a time when I had to move on again. A man can't choose between his kin and others. It was needful, but surely no pleasure to me. It was a hard parting and a bad one and I didn't look to do anything but keep moving on after it. Then the trail got rough._

Again he paused, a sardonic expression twisting his eyebrows and mouth.

_There's kin and kin. Some good, some bad, like other folks. This one was a damn bad climber! We came to a place on the trail where you couldn't take a horse, could barely squeeze one man onto the path, but it was the only way to cross that river for miles. Up the cliff and over, along the top of the waterfall. Wet rock and crumpling hand-holds. No place for a bad climber._

He chuckled unexpectedly.

_Guess I should have taken my boots off! Should know better than to risk not being able to feel the next footing. Because that's where the bad climber lost his. Made a grab at me. We were both falling. But he was above me and kicking and screaming. Kicked me right in the head and had me seeing stars, maybe even blacked out second or two. When I hit the water, I hit it badly. Knocked all the breath out of me. With that and the kick in the head, I was in no condition to swim. I was going down, blackness all around me._

Slim suppressed a shudder, recalling his own sensations.

_I don't know if there was a chance I'd have made it. Probably. I don't kill easy. But it wasn't left to chance. I was trying to swim somehow, when someone slammed into me. Knocked all the breath that was left out of me. If I hadn't been drowning before, I was then. But someone grabbed me by the collar, hauled me to the surface, got us both to the edge and out. The first thing I thought, before ever I started breathing properly again, was 'The damn fool didn't even take his boots off!'_

He paused, his gaze momentarily resting on the pair of boots drying on the rock. Then it returned to the far horizon.

_When I could breathe again, I nearly choked myself with shock. It was the boss of that little spread. He'd dived in, boots and all, taken the risk of dying, for someone who had no rights, no ties, nothing ... _

Silence.

_After I'd finished crawling out, I lay there, trying to figure out what it meant. And it seemed to me that it meant he wasn't letting me go, not letting me keep moving on. Now to understand the next bit, you have to understand that little spread, those good people, from where__ I __was standing. _

Another wry expression flashed across his face.

_A drifter's not a hero. I can do most things I need to, but I'm not perfect._

_I didn't want to be a hero. Not someone who can do just about anything like an expert. But I know what I'm good at and I know it can seem that way sometimes, especially with a gun. If I was going to be standing in that good place, I didn't want any of this hero stuff, even from the kid. So I wanted to give those good people something that said 'He's just a Texan, he can't do everything!' Some skill that they could teach me how to do better so they'd know that we were equal, that we were all standing together. And it came to me that I could have drowned and there'd be no going anywhere and no standing anywhere either, if it hadn't been for that boss and his boots, risking everything. So I said 'One thing I never learned how to do was to swim!'_

Abruptly Jess turned to Slim and waited until the other man was prepared to look him straight in the face. When he did, Jess said quietly: "It's true. I didn't _learn_ to swim, any more'n I learned to run or ride or breathe! Can't remember a time when I couldn't. Oh, I remember book learnin' and learnin' to read a trail, learnin' to cook a rabbit and learnin' to sew up a wound, learnin' to gentle a horse and to deal off the bottom of the deck. But it's no lie – I never did _learn_ to swim!"

"You never – learnt – to swim?"

"I guess someone must have dropped me in a horse trough when I was too small to remember." There was a deep, reminiscent chuckle. "Some elder brother, maybe, with the notion that I needed a swimmin' lesson. There _is_ water in Texas, y'know."

"I see." The coldness had left Slim's voice, but his tone was non-committal.

"People see what they want to see from wherever they happen to be standin'," Jess repeated firmly. "When you were up on this bluff, you didn't see me swimmin'. You saw, from where you were standin', 'he's drowning!' And," he relaxed into a huge grin, "you didn't take your damn boots off again!"

Slim looked at the boots and then at Jess. The deep and wry amusement, the appreciation and acceptance of the joke on himself, was clear in his face, but Slim's conscience was still smitten by the memory of all the times the three of them had laughed at him. Knowing the Texan's pride, he recalled his thoughts earlier in the day – just how badly had they hurt him?

"And you were willing to take … all that?" he said cautiously, feeling his way through the cases of dynamite again. "All that ribbing …. all the things we said … those lessons … knowing that you could really swim?" He thought of Jess's dive and the power of his rescue. "Swim as well at that!"

"It was such a small price to pay for lettin' those good folk have somethin' –" Jess hesitated and then went on very softly, "to have _something else_ they could teach me. It was worth it because, from where I'm standin' now, the truth of the matter is that if the same fool in the same boots is willin' to take the same risks again, knowin' so much more than he did, then that's a better lesson than any truth about swimmin'."

Their eyes locked again for a long moment, testing this. Then Jess began in earnest to shake with silent laughter.

"What's so funny?" Slim demanded.

Jess was chuckling so much he could hardly get the words out. "It was all my own fault – it just seemed like a good idea at the time!"

At last, Slim started to laugh too. "Next time, spare me your good ideas!" he told Jess with feeling. "There's not one yet, but that's led to trouble!"

"Only if you spare me your damn righteous lecturing!" The growl of amusement took the sting from the words.

"Not until you quit swearing!" Slim lunged suddenly at Jess, taking the surprised Texan in a swift neck-lock that had him flat on his back before he could think. Relishing this momentary victory, Slim pinned him down ruthlessly, saying as he did so ""Now you give me one good reason why I shouldn't lay here holding you down until you do!"

"Chores!"

"Chores?" Slim was so taken aback that he forgot to pay attention to what he was doing. The next thing he knew, the scenery was whirling past his face and he landed heavily on his own back, with the breath momentarily knocked out of him yet again.

"Yeah, chores, Slim. You know that fair boss in the yarn I told you? I guess he'd have been sayin' 'get on home and get those evening chores done by sundown'." Jess stretched out a hand and pulled his stunned employer to his feet. He squinted up at the sun, gauging the time, then reached absent-mindedly for the two half-dried shirts on the rock.

"Catch!" He tossed Slim's over to him, adding mischievously, "The colour o' that blanket don't suit y' all that good." Slim's gun-belt and hat followed the shirt in short order.

"Jonesy's going to have something to say about this." Slim became aware that between the swimming and the fighting, their clothes had come out very much the worse for wear.

"You reckon?" Jess had quickly belted on his gun and was methodically packing up his gear, emptying the dregs of the coffee on the ashes of the fire, scattering the stone surround and replacing the cut turf in its place. He did not seem particularly concerned, but then Jonesy had always had a soft spot and quick understanding for the young drifter. Besides, the state of Jess's clothes right now was nothing out of the ordinary.

As he thoughtfully pulled his boots on, something else was bothering Slim. "Are you going to tell the truth to Andy?"

Jess reached for Traveller's bridle and the bay came ambling over and ducked his head into it. "Why not?" He notched the throat-lash and then hefted his saddle deftly on to the waiting back. "I reckon he's already figured out that no one on this earth could really be as bad at swimmin' as I've been in those lessons. Anyway," he seemed to be quoting: "he's a Sherman and no Sherman is afraid of the truth!"

"Even when he only knows the half of it!" The admission cost Slim something, but once it was out, he knew he felt at peace with himself again.

"Just half? I thought you were always right the whole time!" Jess was joking, but it was an acceptance of the implied apology. He picked up his hat, hopped lightly into the saddle and turned Traveller towards the downward path.

Slim unhitched Alamo, tightened the cinch and vaulted astride to follow him. Settling into the saddle, he said honestly. "Seems to be a habit I maybe need to shake."

"Are you crazy? Forget it! You keep your bad habits and I'll keep mine. That way, we're even!"

"Even?" Slim shook the reins and urged his sure-footed horse ahead. "You think that short-legged animal of yours can beat Alamo home?"

There was a laugh in the shadows under the trees, a rattle of stones and a reckless thudding of hooves as the challenge was taken. The sounds gradually receded into the distance, occasionally punctuated by a whoop or a yell. Stillness settled back and the little lake lay glinting peacefully in the evening sun. A gentle breeze ruffled its surface. It might have been winking.


End file.
