Misery

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May Round-up Challenge

by jfclover

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No one should get beaten and thrown into the street like a stray that spooked a fine mount, but that’s what happened to me yesterday.  Comparing myself to a mangy dog was the best I could do.  And though I hadn’t voiced my opinion aloud, Roy Coffee came by the house last night for a statement, but I chose not to go into detail. 

“It was a bad night in town.  Nothing more.” 

The sheriff wasn’t happy with my answer, but it was time to move on.  There was no reason to go on about an incident I could do nothing about.  Jake Simms didn’t like the way I bossed the drive to Sacramento, but it started before we ever left the ranch.  I should’ve fired him during round-up, but we were short on hands.  The man liked his whiskey and drank more than he should.  We had rules that he wouldn’t follow.  My father would’ve fired him and been down a man, but I gave him a chance to toe the line.  I was wrong.  I made a mistake by keeping him on board, and he returned the favor by beating the crap out of me a week after arriving home.

Even though Hoss hadn’t gone with me to town, he’d been with me on the drive and had a good idea who beat me up.  In fact, he warned me to stay clear of Jake Simms, but what was I supposed to do?  Hide under my bed?  Not leave my room?  I’m not that kind of guy. Hoss wasn’t either, and he would respect my wishes.  If I didn’t want to tell Roy who the culprit was, my brother would honor my desire to remain silent and keep his thoughts to himself.  What I didn’t realize was that Jake Simms wasn’t finished with me.  Anger showed in his eyes.  A younger man bossing a seasoned cowpoke lay heavy.

My father was a cautious man, and when Hop Sing needed more supplies, Pa wasn’t about to let me head to Virginia City alone, and he sent Hoss as my bodyguard.  I didn’t argue.  My father wasn’t about to change his mind, so why bother?  Besides, I enjoyed my brother’s company.

Hoss knew the odds were against me, and he’d do anything he could to save my hide. Although I’d come away from last week’s tussle without any broken bones, I favored bruised ribs and a sore left wrist. Hoss took the reins.  I was in no condition to do much of anything, much less take on a man who outweighed me by fifty or sixty pounds.   

I prayed he’d left town to find work on someone else’s ranch.  He had my blessing as long as I never had to lay eyes on him again.  He was a brute, a loudmouth bully.  A man who had to use his fists to solve a problem was no friend of mine.

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Hoss and I jump down from the buckboard and make our way up the boardwalk to the mercantile.  Hoss holds the list, and while he hands it over to Jake, I scan C Street for … let’s just say I take in the sights and sounds of our booming metropolis.  Perhaps I’ve become as cautious as my father.  And when I try to take a deep breath and clear the incident from my mind, my ribs burn with the memory of that day.

I’m not the same man.  Jake Simms damaged something inside me.  He’s taken away the confidence that a man carries if he’s any kind of a man.  He’s made me wary of every movement and every subtle commotion or stony silence that normal living brings. And though backing down from a fight isn’t my way, I wonder if he’s out there.  Is he watching and waiting?

I walk closer to Hoss than normal.  I don’t think he notices, and I don’t want to be seen as a coward, but this kind of feeling over what might happen is making me more miserable than a man ought to be.

“You wanna go pick up the mail?  I need to stop in at the Saddlery before we head back.”

“We’ve got time.  I’ll go with you.”

“You sure, Little Brother?”

“I’m sure.”

God knows I don’t want to march around Virginia City alone, at least not until I’m one hundred percent again.  There’s no way I can tangle with Simms in this condition.  If I give him half a chance, the man will see me dead before lunchtime.

I follow Hoss inside the store.  His old harness was beyond repair, and he needs something sturdy for Chubb.  I glance at bridles that will fit Cooch, but my mind is elsewhere.  I can’t concentrate on harnesses or bridles or anything else my brother finds entertaining.  He chats up old Charlie, who stands behind the counter and is tickled by Hoss’s comments, but any humor is lost on me.  I can’t seem to grasp anything.  Jake Simms has blinded me from thinking or feeling anything else.

After Hoss pays for his new harness, we plow out into the sunshine only to see Roy Coffee waving his hat over his head.  “Hoss!  Little Joe!”

“Wonder what’s up?”

I glance up at Hoss, but my thoughts are a million miles away.  The misery I feel is turning me into a scared little boy who can’t be bothered by anything else.

“I have some news for you fellas.”

“What’s that, Roy?”

“Jake Simms is dead.”

“Dead?”

“Yeah.  Pulled a gun on the wrong man.  Got shot dead in his tracks.”

“Son-of-a-gun.”

“Didn’t you boys have some trouble with him?”

“Some,” I said.  “He was no good.”

“I got that same feeling, Little Joe.”

Even though my legs nearly gave out, I kept steady on my feet, but speechless.  And though God might strike me dead, I’ve never been so relieved to hear about a man’s demise before.

Hoss nudged me.  “Let’s go home.”

The End

5 – 2026