At some time during the night when Robert woke to relieve his bladder of the few beers he had earlier, he thought he heard a strange noise coming from the bathroom below, so he went downstairs to investigate.
He found Rip sitting on the floor between the toilet and the wash hand basin with his back against the cold tiles of the bathroom wall, looking weak and as pale as the tiles behind him. The smell in the room told him that the boy had been getting sick.
"Hey buddy. What's up?" Robert asked as he knelt in front of him.
"I don't know, Robert. I think I just fainted," Rip replied weakly, "every time I try to get up, I get all dizzy and have to sit back down again."
Robert helped him up and brought him back to his bed, then left to fetch his father.
Despite it being an unusually warm night for this time of year, and having put on several layers of clothing, Rip was shivering and complaint about feeling cold. Mr Dutton insisted he take off some of the clothes and made him drink a glass of water, after which Rip felt a little better and went back to sleep. His sleep however was restless, trashing about in his bed and moaning in discomfort. They looked for fever medication but realised that they had run out. They couldn't find a thermometer either, but the boy was hot to touch.
"Should we get the doctor for him?" Robert asked his father somewhat worried as they both watched over the restlessly sleeping boy.
"Whenever one of you were sick, your mother used to say that as long as you guys managed to keep the fluids down, you were going to be okay. So, let's just wait and see. We should try and get that fever down though. He looks very uncomfortable with it. Go get me a bowl of warm water and a sponge," he instructed his son.
By the time Robert had come back Rip's fever was sky high and his discomfort was escalating. It was hard to tell whether he was asleep or awake, as he complaint about a venomous snake in his bed that was trying to bite him and fears of being crushed by a monster. He called first for his father then his mother for help and sobbed when he realised, they weren't going to come to save him. Mr Dutton hid his disappointment that he didn't call for him but tried his best to sooth the boy, "I am here son. I am here. You are safe! I won't let anyone hurt you."
Remembering how Dante, their vet talked Rip through the procedure when he tended to the boy's dislocated shoulder, Mr Dutton talked soothingly to the boy as he tried to strip him down to his boxers. It was clear the boy felt threatened by this, as he begged him to stop and started to lash out aimlessly at his uncle and calling him horrible names. Apart from the one scratch on the neck that Rip was able to land with the fingernails of his right hand, the boy's efforts were largely futile though, as he had no strength left in him. He looked as if he was trying to swat away imaginary flies.
"Father, should we be doing this?" Robert asked anxiously. The old man looked at him in surprise. "Father look at him, he is terrified. This can't be good for him," Robert pleaded.
"Don't be stupid Robert," Mr Dutton gave out. "Can't you see, he's hallucinating? It's the fever that has him in this state, and I am trying to get it down. When one of your calves gets tangled up in barbed wire, I would hope you get in there and take charge to cut it loose, no matter how freaked out the poor animal is by you. Now, don't just stand there and give me a hand. We need to get this fever down," the old man scolded his son, making him feel like a teenager again. He wanted to tell his father that of course he would be able to get right in there and had done so many times but that this was entirely different. He decided to keep stumm however as this was neither the time nor the place to have it out with him, and on top of that, he had to admit his father was right.
Robert sat down at the end of Rip's bed and pulled the boy up into a sitting position. Despite Rip trying to defend himself against his constraint, he pulled the boy in and held him close, with Rip's back against his chest and his arms crossed over, holding the boy's wrists across his bony chest in front of him. In spite of their attempts to sooth him, the boy continued to struggle and did not calm down. "Robert, please, don't let him hurt me, I'll be good, I try harder, please Robert, please," Rip started to sob bitterly, begging them not to hurt him and to let him go. It broke Robert's heart to see him like this, even more so because he felt he was the cause of his distress.
At last Mr Dutton was able to begin to sponge the boy down, which quickly brought the desired effect. Rip's breathing became more regular and deeper. He calmed down and it seemed he slowly regained consciousness. Rip looked at him exhausted and somewhat confused. "There you are son. Back with the living, huh?" Mr Dutton said relieved as the boy gave him a weak smile. He continued to speak soothingly to Rip as he explained to him what he was doing and why, all the while he kept sponging him down. Rip no longer seemed to mind the procedure, as Robert helped him to lie down on the bed. He let his uncle passively sponge him down and soon drifted quietly into a peaceful and calm sleep.
"Was that it?" Robert asked, as he watched his father cover Rip with a light blanket. "I doubt it, but who knows?" his father replied.
Both Robert and his father stayed at the boy's bedside for the rest of that night. At one point the fever again rose to an uncomfortable level where Rip trashed his body about and screamed in terror after which they repeated the procedure with the same result. Again, Robert had to help his father restrain the boy, but found it a bit easier this time as they responded earlier, and he had done it before. The boy again calmed down quick enough and fell back into a peaceful slumber in Robert's strong arms.
"Father, I know of course this is completely different, but... I could never understand how you could do this," Robert said cautiously. Mr Dutton looked at him inquisitively. "How you could pull us over your knee or bend us over the workbench and calmly give us a spanking. Take charge as you call it when we were upset and besides ourselves with fear," Robert sighed as he was looking at the sleeping child in front of them, avoiding his father's gaze. The old man did not reply right away. He looked at the boy in front of him wiping the long curls out of the sleeping boy's face. "I suppose I thought I was doing the right thing, Robert," the old man simply replied without looking at his son. They remained at the boy's bedside for the night and shared a few beers and good memories.
By the morning the fever had broken and only a slightly raised temperature and nauseousness was left from the worrying night that they had with him. The boy was still exhausted though and so were the two men.
The old family doctor was called, and he told them to let the boy rest and to make him drink plenty of fluids. He left them some fever medication but also told them that he would prefer they would not use it but to do the same they did the night before, sponging him down regularly to keep him comfortable should the fever return. He was old fashioned that way and felt the fever had a job to do. He preferred him to be comfortable but not completely fever free.
He enquired about the boy's general health and asked if there were any other symptoms and since there were not, he put it down to emotional stress. Despite the fact that the diagnosis fit, Mr Dutton was sceptical about it but when the old doctor suggested that this was an opportunity for the boy to experience his fatherly love and care, it hit a nerve.
He had Bernard make chicken soup and creamed rice, something his wife used to make for his children when they were sick, and he continued to do after she was gone. The boy slept most of the day, but when he was awake, he encouraged him to eat and drink. He also read aloud to him. Something he always enjoyed doing for his children and they still, even now as adults, occasionally appreciated him doing, on the long winter evenings on the ranch.
Rip was a model patient and quietly lapped it all up. He obediently stayed in bed and ate his food and drank all the water Mr Dutton gave him. It was obvious he enjoyed the story Mr Dutton read to him as he listened with closed eyes lying on his back in his bed, his fingers interlocked behind him, cradling his head in his hands as if he was sunbathing on a beach. He let his uncle regularly check his temperature gently touching his forehead with the back of his hand. Mr Dutton never did find the family's thermometer but used the boy's level of comfort to gauge when to intervene and bring down the boy's temperature. When the fever did return in the late afternoon and during the night, Rip laid still and let the old man sponge him down keeping the fever at a stable low. Mr Dutton slept when the boy slept.
Three days and three nights, the fever came and went in waves during which Mr Dutton slept on a spare mattress on the floor in Rip's room and did nothing else than tend to the boy while Rip quietly soaked up the warm feeling that wrapped itself around him because of it.
By Wednesday morning Rip seemed to have finally fully recovered, but as the doctor had told Mr Dutton that he wanted his patient to continue to rest and be at least three days fever free before he was to go back to school or do any work, Rip was still in bed when Jacob came to see him, enquiring how he was but then getting straight to it.
"Rip, I came to say goodbye. I am going to move in with Monica on the reservation," Jacob said as he sat down on the side of Rip's bed. Rip looked at him saddened and wishing it was not true. "Why?" Rip asked quietly despite being worried about the answer he might be given. "Monica is pregnant, we are going to have a baby. She wants to stay with her family and doesn't want to live here, so I am going to move in with her", he told Rip, but Rip suspected that this was only half the truth.
"And what about the horses, who is looking after them?" Rip asked after a few moments of silence. "Father put Frank in charge, and he wants you to keep helping him the way you helped me," Jacob explained. Rip did not like what he was hearing. "Frank, why him? I can't stand him, he's an arsehole," Rip protested and glared at Jacob. "Rip, don't talk like that about Frank. He is as good as family and deserves your respect. I expect you to help him. I've learnt a lot from him and so will you. He's in charge, understood?" Jacob spoke sternly, but Rip rolled his eyes. "Rip, I am warning you. He's in charge. You need to listen to him!" Jacob tried again to be firm. "Phew, I am not making no promises," Rip countered, "and what about Thunder. What will happen to him?" Rip asked, his tone of voice showing his annoyance with Jacob's plans. "I need to get settled first, but I will come and get him when I am set up over there. In the meantime, I want you to make sure he is looked after. Don't go and try and train him or anything. Just make sure he has enough food and water. Talk to Frank and call Dante if something is amiss. Spend a bit of time near him but don't get too close, you hear me Rip. Just stay at the fence or near the food trough for a bit each day. He needs some human contact, so he doesn't get all scared again. Don't do anything that spooks him, just see if he comes to you when you feed him," Jacob suggested. The boy nodded. At least he knew Jacob still trusted him with Thunder.
He turned his back to the man, nevertheless, staring at the wall and protecting himself that way from crying. Jacob sighed. "Rip don't be like that. It's not that far away. I'll be visiting, and you can come and visit us as well, buddy," he tried to pat the boy's shoulder, but Rip jerked it away, letting him know that this was unwanted. Jacob said one final goodbye to which Rip did not reply, before leaving the room and shortly after that Rip heard the truck roll out of the ranch below his window. Rip wanted to cry but couldn't.
A short time after that Robert came into his bedroom. He sat down where Jacob had been sitting only moments earlier and asked Rip why he had not come down to see Jacob off properly, but Rip who was still facing the wall just shrugged so Robert got up to leave again.
"When did Jacob decide to move out, Robert?" Rip asked when Robert was already almost halfway to the door. Robert returned. "Father and he talked Saturday night, why?" Robert asked as he sat back down on the bed beside Rip, who continued to stare at the wall instead of turning around to Robert. "Huh, Saturday," Rip went, and then after a long pause added, "today is what? Wednesday?" he stated the obvious. "Rip you weren't well enough. There was no point of telling you any earlier," Robert said and would have liked to add that if it hadn't been for him, Jacob would have left without saying Goodbye to him at all, as he had done plenty of times before when he disappeared for months on end.
Jacob didn't do goodbyes. The past three years were the longest stretch that Jacob had stayed on the ranch in one go since his first disappearing act when he was nineteen, when they were sent postcards from Europe.
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