By Shellie Williams

January 12, 2000

Thanks, Sandy and Eden.

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JD Dunne pulled back sharply on his horse’s reins. He was barely four miles from home, four miles from a hearty meal and a warm bed. A flash of light through dusk’s gathering gloom arrested his attention. Curiosity warred with caution, but he decided to investigate. Someone might need help.

Leaving his horse tethered to a nearby tree, he stepped carefully into the woods. Several yards in, a glade opened up and he saw a crackling fire sitting unattended. He’d just stepped into the clearing when he thought he heard a noise.

Pain exploded with white light in his skull. He slumped forward and fell to his knees. He brought both hands up to his head in agony. His vision blurred when he opened his eyes. Buckskin clad legs walked around in front of him. He struggled to lift his head. The setting sun glared just behind the stranger’s left shoulder, keeping his features from view.

"Well now, looky what we got here, fellers: another present. What’s say we unwrap it?"

Hands reached down and grabbed his shoulders. JD let go of his head to push away from the man. Weakness loosened his grip and he flailed uselessly.

A laugh burst from the man’s mouth near his ear. JD grimaced when the harsh sound compounded the painful throbbing in his head.

Agony brightened abruptly in a hard ball of force in his gut. He bent over the fist still buried in his stomach and groaned, clinging helplessly to his attacker.

"Ohhh! I think he likes that!" Another voice sounded from his right, but JD lacked the strength to look. "Hit him again, Timbo."

The support he leaned against was removed. JD wobbled dangerously before hard knuckles cut low into his abdomen again. Pain knifed his gut and he folded over. An arm caught him and squeezed relentlessly around his body until he gasped. He was released and dropped to the ground to land on his back. The blunt meeting with hard earth forced air from his lungs. He rolled to his side and labored to suck oxygen into his body. Dust choked him and he coughed miserably.

Rank darkness descended, fogging his mind with confusion. Hands grabbed him, tore his clothes from his body, hurt him, and wouldn’t let him go. Incredible pain vied with the shame and grief twisting inside him. He desperately tried to ignore the indignity of the attack, shutting it away, closing it off in his mind.

Blackness edged his vision and he gave himself willingly to it, melting away into darkness.

Several hours of a lifetime later, he opened his eyes to grayness. He held still for a moment, holding his breath, listening for any sound of his attackers. The only sound that greeted him was the rustle of leaves and wind through the trees, and the distant sound of a stream. A breeze blew low into his face, pushing his mussed hair away from his forehead. He closed his eyes. Silence. He was alone. JD gave into the pain that clawed at him. Tears sprang to his eyes and streamed down his face.

Rolling slowly to his side, he gasped and clutched his belly. Pieces of sheered rope fell from his wrists, but he didn’t notice. His whole body ached and he curled up on his side. He folded his arms across his chest and slowly brought his knees up till he’d formed a tight ball. He began trembling and shivering, but could not find the will to move, to get up and get dressed. His mind drifted and he deliberately thought of home, of his friends, and his own room waiting for him, ignoring the memories that threatened to crowd out his sanity.

Finally the cold penetrated too deep to withstand and JD carefully straightened up. Moving slowly, he made it to his hands and knees. A nearby white shape caught his attention. Crawling, he reached out and pulled the material closer. It was his shirt. The familiar garment brought on more tears. He collapsed to his side again, helpless under the onslaught.

Wrapping the shirt around himself, he hugged it close. His mind began to feel detached and he realized he was slipping into shock, but he didn’t care. The forest seemed content to just let him lay there. Sleep snuck up on him and before he knew it, the gray light of dawn woke him.

Dead leaves cushioned the ground but hadn’t made an especially comfortable bed for his tortured body. JD slowly rose to his hands and knees. Mud caked his body and when he reached up to feel his face, the roughness of more mud greeted him there. The gurgling of a nearby stream answered his concerns. He stumbled to his feet. Accustomed to the cold night, he ignored the need to get dressed and limped slowly to the creek calling to him. Water bubbled shallowly over round rocks, winding its way through the trees. Kneeling seemed too difficult a task to accomplish, so JD gingerly lowered himself to the creek’s bank and slumped sideways to cup his hand into the water.

He washed the mud from his body slowly; his hands seemed uncoordinated and he fumbled awkwardly. Bruises were revealed beneath the filth. His belly looked raw and swollen and he swallowed down fear. He pressed against his stomach with one shaky palm and hissed in pain. Hoping the damage was more external than internal, he continued sloughing the dried dirt from his body. Blood along with other fluids caked the insides of his thighs.

He rolled into the water. The frigid liquid stole his breath and numbed his skin, but he held still, letting the water wash away the putrid reminders of last night. He lowered his head into the water, soaking his hair, then sat up and carefully stood. Muscles all over his body ached, but none more deeply than his lower back and abdomen.

Legs weak and shaky, he stepped away from the stream. He barely made it to a nearby tree before his knees gave way and he collapsed to the ground. He leaned against the rough bark, both hands held protectively to his hurting belly. A spasm squeezed through his gut and nausea swam through him. A flash of a man’s fist whistling through the air to slam into his belly made him groan. He bent double and threw up. Muscles clenched and stretched through his stomach, tearing away his composure and he cried.

Shaking with exhaustion, JD clamped down on the urge to throw up again. He’d brought up nothing but bile. The absence of blood reassured him that he’d escaped without severe internal injuries. He reached back tentatively and wiped his hand down his backside. Even though it was his own, the touch unnerved him and he snatched his hand back. His fingers came away bloodless, and he signed in relief. If this killed him, it wouldn’t be due to his injuries.

Knowing his friends would be worried about him gave him the incentive to push to his feet and search for his clothes. He found his jacket, vest, and pants, all scattered throughout the glade. His shirt lay where he’d left it, and slowly, with much groaning and panting, he managed to get dressed. The clothes felt almost alien after being naked for so long. JD began limping back to the road.

If he hadn’t seen the fire’s glow and hadn’t come to investigate, he’d never gotten into this mess in the first place.

He knew his horse would be long gone, but he wasn’t more than four miles out of town. His body protested every step of the way, but with luck, he’d make it back before sunset. Consciously pushing away every memory of the attack, he locked it all into a dark corner of his mind. He knew his face and body would show the devastation of an attack, but as far as he was concerned, that’s all his friends needed to know. He’d have to live with the hell himself.

The sun rose before him, warm and bright, drawing dew from the grass at his feet. JD walked out of the glade through tall, damp blades of grass to find the path home. His boots became muddy. Horses and wagons had created a well-traveled route between Four Corners and Eagle Bend. Grass and weeds had worn away under hooves and wheels to reveal bare earth, rocks and an occasional root.

He stumbled on a large half-buried rock, nearly turning his ankle. His body twisted. He brought one hand down to touch his fingertips to the ground, keeping his tenuous balance. Muscles pulled and strained with his sudden movements. The pain was shocking after the numbness that had settled inside his mind.

Sweat rolled down the center of his back; his shirt clung uncomfortably to his skin. His waistband felt tight around his injured belly, chaffing as he walked, but he refused to loosen the buttons. Memories danced at the edge of consciousness. A wall built from fear kept them out.

The weight of his jacket became unbearable. He grasped the lapels and slowly shrugged out of the garment like a man too elderly to bend. Moving his shoulders was painful, but it was a relief to get out of the coat. Lacking the strength to lift it he let it trail for awhile in his wake. Finally he let go and it dropped, a shapeless form abandoned on the road.

He didn’t remember stopping or sitting down, but his eyes blinked open and he found himself on the ground. He felt detached from his body and spirit, numb and cold despite the beads of sweat running down his face. The surrounding landscape wavered in and out of focus, twisting and turning into unrecognizable shapes. He closed his eyes to block out the dizzy kaleidoscope of color.

He clung to his control carefully, as if holding a broken eggshell in his hands. Breathing and staying awake, keeping the memories at bay was all that mattered. His sanity depended on emptying his mind of thoughts or images.

Gradually he slumped to his side, then rolled to his back. His head turned gently and rough grass prickled his hands and cheek. The sun lay against the other side of his face like a warm towel, heating his skin. The dichotomy of the cool, damp ground under him and the hot, throbbing heat over him was strangely comforting. Tears rolled unnoticed from the corners of his eyes. Their wet trails dried to fine salt in the sun.

"JD? JD Dunne?" An unfamiliar voice called to him. He felt the pressure of a cool palm on his sunburned cheek. His eyes blinked open and he wondered when he’d shut them.

A man leaned over him, his face hidden in shadow. The glaring sunlight at his back halloed the shaggy outline of his hair.

Memories flashed sporadic through his head. JD squeezed his eyes shut in terror. Oily darkness swirled around him, suffocating and dank with fear. Raw despair pulled him so tight he couldn’t move.

He felt the stranger’s touch on his chest. He shuddered with revulsion. Desperate to escape but unable to lift his arms and fight, he sank farther into the stinking darkness in his mind.

His upper arms were gently grasped and he was pulled up. Someone lifted him with a strained grunt.

He commanded his body to struggle and beat the hands away, hurting the stranger. His body refused to obey. He hung limp and helpless, swaying in the man’s arms as he was lifted from the ground. He was lowered down and his arms and legs thumped woodenly against a hard surface. After a brief pause he felt jostling and creaking and realized he was in a wagon. A sharp flare of hope sputtered and died in his chest.

His body throbbed and ached. Fear gripped him hard. He gathered his strength to break through the paralyzing emotion and move. Muscles clenched and tightened through his ribs and abdomen. The pain forced a helpless moan through his raw throat.

He wrapped his arms around himself and curled onto his side. Boards vibrated beneath his temple, magnifying his discomfort. Darkness shrouded his mind, capturing him in a net of helplessness that pulled him down until oblivion surrounded him.

Awareness swam back within reach. JD opened his eyes to find himself in a room. A dark man stood over to his right, his hands busy with glass bottles that filled a tabletop.

Recognition slowly took over. He was in Nathan’s clinic. Powerful relief spread through him and he stifled a groan.

He looked down at himself. A worn patchwork quilt lay across his bare chest. He pulled the covering higher and hid the bruises peppering his light skin. Flashes of groping hands and clawing fingers made him gasp. He clenched the quilt tight under his chin.

Nathan appeared at his side. "Take it easy, JD. Don’t go movin’ and gettin’ agitated now."

Nathan bent closer. JD flinched when the man reached to touch his face. If the healer noticed, he didn’t comment. Gentle fingers moved against his cheekbone then slid to his forehead, pushing his hair back. Nathan’s touch was as soft and tender as a whisper.

"You got a nasty bruise here." The man’s voice was as soft as his touch. Nathan smiled and patted the hand JD had fisted into the quilt. "Just wanted to check it out. Your head hurt?"

JD closed his eyes and shook his head slowly, rolling it back and forth on his pillow. He missed the worried look that crossed Nathan’s face when he didn’t answer.

The man’s touch moved to his throat and JD opened his eyes. The sides of his neck were probed gently. "It hurt to swallow, son?"

JD nodded and Nathan gave a sympathetic grimace.

He closed his eyes and swallowed. Harsh laughter echoed in his mind, dragging him back to the pain he’d endured. Fists pounded into him, compressing his muscles and stealing his breath. He thrust away the memories quickly.

"JD?"

His eyes snapped open. Nathan stood nearby, drying his hands on a towel. Worry pinched his features.

"Are you all right?"

He swallowed hard. He’d kept his silence since the attack, feeling that to use his voice would take away some of his control. Communicating, diving back into the world he knew was like cutting through his gut with a knife, laying himself open, raw and bleeding. He reached past the irrational fear and found the courage to answer.

"Yeah."

The simple answer satisfied Nathan. The healer turned away.

Boot steps signaled a new arrival. The door creaked open and Buck walked into the room. His eyes immediately met JD’s and a wide goofy grin stretched across his face, accentuating his worry instead of hiding it.

"Damn, kid, you had me worried!"

"Buck." Nathan’s voice held warning and Wilmington paused to look at the man. "JD is tired. Let him rest, you can talk to him later."

"I just want to see how he’s doing and ask what happened."

JD twisted on the bed, turning away from his friend. He pressed against the hurt in his belly with one hand. Couldn’t they tell what had happened to him just by looking? Didn’t shame sit on his face as clear as a brand? Surely he didn’t look like a human being anymore. He was used and beaten: only a hollowed out shell of the man he’d tried to become.

He heard shuffling footsteps, then Buck and Nathan talked quietly to each other. A chair dragged across the room. The hushed sounds of someone settling down to wait whispered at his back.

Not facing Buck felt like betrayal, but if one person could look at him and read the agony written on his heart, it was Buck. He didn’t want anyone to discover the ugliness imprisoned in his dark memories. He needed time to build up his defenses. He needed time to cover the sadness and fear he knew must shadow his face like a storm.

Tears burned hot beneath his eyelids. He squeezed his eyes tight and refused to give in to grief. Heal, dammit! It’s over! His mind seemed deaf to his demands and wailing emptiness dragged him down to sleep.

Buck waited.

Buck slumped low in the saloon chair. His eyes focused on the neglected beer in front of him.

He’d spent a restless night tossing and turning alone in his bed. The feeling he’d forgotten to do something nagged at his conscience, keeping peace out of reach. Half-formed dreams and nightmare images snatched at him like claws catching at his skin.

He’d awakened disoriented and damp as if he’d spent the night in fevered sickness. Sore muscles wrung a groan from his lips when he’d finally rolled out of bed. Dressing in layered shirts to ward off the chill shivering across his skin, he’d emerged rumpled from the boarding house. His usual grin couldn’t find a place on his face. The early morning street was empty. He kept his head lowered as he crossed to the saloon.

No familiar faces greeted him. He requested a beer, raising the bartender’s eyebrows, then retreated to a dark corner. He nursed the drink until mid morning; it grew flat and tasteless as water.

The familiar ring of Chris’ spurs turned his attention to the door. The dark clad gunslinger entered the saloon. His eyes darted around, searching for a place to alight. He caught sight of Buck and moved toward his table, snagging a bottle of red eye from the bar.

Wilmington had slumped so far down in his chair that his butt balanced precariously on the edge. With his chin tucked against his chest and his shoulders hunched nearly to his ears, his face could barely be seen under the shadow of his hat brim.

"Startin’ a little early, ain’t ‘cha?" Larabee pulled a chair out and sat uninvited. He lifted his bottle and took a swig, then placed it on the table.

"Speak for yourself," Buck grumbled. He didn’t feel like company. His usually pleasant outlook had deserted him, leaving behind a dark cousin of foreboding.

The uneasy feeling of an incomplete task had settled between his shoulder blades like an itch he couldn’t reach. Solutions floated just beyond his grasp. Nagging worry began to replace his earlier feeling of irritation.

"Kid’s over due."

Like the last stone falling into place in a finished wall, Buck’s swirling thoughts abruptly made sense. He sat upright, staring at Chris.

"He didn’t check in last night for his shift?"

Chris gave a slow shake of his head and reached for his bottle. Buck’s hand clamped down on his arm, arresting his movement. The loud slap of flesh against flesh shattered the languid silence of the bar.

"Why didn’t you come get me?"

Steely blue met fiery ice and didn’t flinch. Chris pulled his arm from under Buck’s grip.

"He’s been late before."

Buck shook his head. "Something’s wrong."

"You don’t know that."

Buck glanced up at his friend. "I do this time." He pushed his half-forgotten glass of beer away and clenched his hands into tight fists. "I’ve known all night long."

The rattle of a racing wagon reached their ears. Both men stood and moved to the batwing doors.

"I need some help here!" The older man driving the rig half stood as he pulled his horses to a stop. The animals pranced in place, eyes rolling nervously when Chris and Buck burst out of the saloon. Chris gripped the closest animal’s bridle while Buck ran to the back of the wagon.

JD lay on his side with an arm wrapped loosely around his body. His wrist bent awkwardly where it had come to rest between his side and the boards. The other arm was outstretched against the rough floor with his hand cupped open, fingers gently curled. His head balanced against the wagon bed on his temple, revealing the darkly bruised underside of his jaw. His mouth gaped slightly open, dried blood crusted the left corner of his lip. Dark bangs feathered atop his bruised forehead and raw skin stretched across the jutting edge of cheekbone.

"I found him along side the road." The driver jumped down and stood near Buck. "He didn’t seem to know me. That’s JD Dunne, ain’t it?"

Buck just nodded, too distracted to answer. His breathing was harsh and his nostrils flared with his panting. I knew it. He reached out a shaking hand and touched JD’s throat. The answering pulse erased some of the lines of horror from his face. He looked up when Chris came around to join them.

"Help me get him to Nathan’s."

Buck slipped his hands under JD’s shoulders and tugged the still body closer. JD’s arm slid from his body when he straightened out and thumped against the wagon bed. Chris reached under the kid’s knees and silently signaled his readiness. Together, they pulled him from the wagon.

Vin appeared at Chris’ shoulder and the gunslinger nodded to his friend. "Go tell Nathan what’s coming."

The stairs creaked under their combined weight as Chris and Buck carried JD to Nathan’s open door. Vin stood inside near the stove, feeding wood into its belly, starting a fire. Nathan rushed forward and placed his hands on either side of JD's head to help steady the injured young man.

They placed him on the bed and stood back. Nathan sat on the edge of the mattress and pulled JD’s vest open; the kid’s shirt was missing buttons. The ones still attached were in mismatched buttonholes. No details escaped the healer. Nathan frowned as he gently began removing the vest.

JD lay slightly propped against the pillows at his back. His head hung back and rested against the top edge of the headboard. His throat was exposed through the neck of his shirt. Nathan unbuttoned the garment to reveal deeply bruised flesh.

The hollow scoop of his belly held bruises and rows of deep, raw scratches. His ribs bowed as his chest expanded with air. Nathan spread his palm against the curved bones in JD’s side. The young man jerked with his touch and Nathan drew back. JD’s back arched, his spine cracked with strain. He fumbled to place both hands on his stomach. He abruptly reversed his position, drew up his knees and folded over. His quick movements nearly pushed Nathan from the bed, but the healer braced himself at the last minute.

Buck hurried forward and caught the kid’s shoulders. Nathan regained his balance and helped Buck push JD to the bed. His breathing had quickened to harsh panting. His body twisted under Buck’s hold.

With his eyebrows raised in an expression of shock, JD’s face looked haggard. His skin felt chilled where Buck touched him on the chest, and the older man noticed crusted dirt under the kid’s fingernails.

"What the hell?" Chris stepped forward when JD’s foot swung out, kicking Nathan in the arm. He grasped the flailing limb and held it to his side. "What’s the matter with him?"

"I don’t – dammit!" Buck’s shout of anger drew their attention to the struggle. JD sat upright, his fists lashing wildly through the air. His eyes had opened and the hazel circles of color were pinpricks lost in the harsh whites of his eyes. Inarticulate sounds of fear burst from his throat like the wails of a cornered animal, sending shivers up Buck’s spine.

"Hold him!" The command was redundant as Vin joined in the fray. All four men added their weight to restrain the wildly thrashing young man. JD was pinned to the bed -- his chest heaving and his head thrown back. His mouth opened in a soundless scream.

He bucked once and groaned then his body relaxed under the strained muscles of the men holding him. His eyes closed. A deep sigh parted his lips.

Nathan was the first to let go. He straightened up and ran his hand across the top of his head. "Ya’ll can let go now – he’s out."

They stood in a confused circle around the bed, gazing down at their friend.

"I don’t think he was even awake. He was locked in a nightmare, maybe reliving whatever hell he’s been through."

Chris lifted his gaze to the healer, a look of worry chiseling a line between his brows. He turned to Vin. "Why don’t we take a look around, Vin. See if we can spot anything or anyone that looks outta place."

Vin nodded with a grim look on his face. Touching the brim of his hat he took his leave.

Chris’ glance took in Buck and Nathan, then moved back to the sleeping figure on the bed. He looked at Buck, hesitating as if he wanted to say more. Pressing his lips together, he remained silent and left the room.

Nathan had moved to his herbs and was mashing them determinedly. "Buck, you go to the saloon and get a bottle of whiskey. I’m gonna need it for his wounds."

Buck nodded to Nathan’s request. "Are you sure, Nathan? You may need my help." He reached out and righted the chair that had been toppled in the struggle to subdue JD.

"He’s out for a few hours at least, Buck." And I don’t need an audience for this. "Take your time, get a meal." Buck stood and pushed his hat off his head to hang by its strap on his back. He looked at his deeply sleeping friend and sensed his own exhaustion. "Reckon I’ll do just that." He read between the lines and realized the healer needed to be alone with JD. "I’ll be back in a couple of hours."

As soon as Buck was gone Nathan crossed the room and locked the door. He brought his poultices and supplies to the bedside table and uncovered the full length of JD’s unconscious body. He carefully removed the torn and dirty trousers. He rolled his patient gently to one side, elevating the broken ribs, and sat on the edge of the bed at his bruised back. JD groaned.

"It’s OK, JD. It’s Nathan. Lie still now, son."

Nathan moved to his worktable and brought back thick strips of soft cloth. He stood leaning over JD’s back to hold him on his side and wrapped the long cloth around the kid’s wrist. He threaded the strip through the bed frame and quickly brought the young man’s hands together, binding them as if in prayer. JD gasped and began to struggle anew.

Years had passed since he’d seen this particular breed of agony inflicted and it broke his heart to be witness to it again. He knew what would help the torn tissues but held no cure for the damaged soul.

He whispered reassurances to his patient. "I’m sorry, but you gotta take this now. I seen this before and I know what will help."

His words were more for his own composure, he knew JD was too distraught to understand. JD’s breathing became frantic as Nathan worked. He swam in an unconscious hell, whimpering and pulling at the cloths that bound him.

Nathan had done this before for others and he held a personal sadness at bay, concentrating on the injured body before him. He worked quickly and spoke softly to JD as he worked, keeping his voice as rhythmic as a lullaby.

The sound did not sooth his patient’s desperate struggle. JD twisted in the restraints, alternately pleading and cursing his unknown captors.

Before long Nathan stood and dragged the table out of the way. He had done everything he could think of. He slowly threaded JD’s restless legs into clean long johns and worked them up over his hips. After covering him again with the warm quilt, he reached out to smooth the hair from his feverish forehead. JD still trembled with the horror of his memories, pulling at the cloth bindings. Nathan brought a chair round to sit by his head and waited for the young man to quiet.

Nathan blinked back tears and swallowed with difficulty, his throat tight with anguish. He mourned with the visible results of the violence done to this once joyful kid. His sadness widened, enveloping his memories of other people he had seen through this heartbreak.

JD’s arms relaxed in the restraints; he had succumbed to sleep again. Nathan untied the strips of cloth and gently rolled him to rest on his back. He needed to wrap the injured ribs but decided to wait until JD woke up. He straightened up the clinic and unlocked the door. Finally, he returned to JD and settled back in the chair. He nodded with exhaustion wishing he could empty his mind of the anguish.

Nearly three hours later, he heard movement from the bed. He sat up and stretched his sore limbs and found JD waking. The kid flinched at his touch and he tried to keep his movements exaggerated, hoping not to spook him again.

The door creaked open and Buck returned. Nathan watched carefully for a positive sign from his patient. When JD rolled over and away from Buck, the worry in his gut darkened to fear. JD needed someone to help him get through this and Nathan knew Buck was the best chance he had.

His fear grew larger than the confusion and the emotion roiled in his mind, skimming along the frightening images like oil on water. Grief surrounded the nightmare and held it down, smothering it and closing it away into a cobwebbed corner of his mind.

He tried to pull away and run but an unyielding mass blocked his path.

He opened his eyes. His wrists were firmly locked in Nathan’s hold and the older man pressed uncomfortably close. The healer’s fingers looked coal black against his egg white skin. Buck’s worried face peered around the man’s shoulder.

"Easy now, JD."

"Nathan? Buck? Wh--?" Turning his head he looked around in confusion. Disorientation tugged at his limbs and made him dizzy for a moment. "What happened?"

He looked up to see Nathan frown and tilt his head in question. "You don’t remember?"

JD ignored the question.

They both looked down at their hands. As if just becoming aware of Nathan’s touch, JD tugged back gently from his grasp. Nathan released him and he sank back into the pillows propped behind him. The yielding surface cradled him. He drew in a breath to sigh but pain caught at his chest and he gasped.

"Looks like you might have some busted ribs." Nathan stood up and the mattress shifted, becoming level again. Buck pulled a chair closer and sat down.

JD touched his chest and slid his palm across his bare side. "I think you might be right." He grinned weakly and winced when his probing fingers found a sore area in the curving row of bones in his side. "Was anyone else hurt?"

He caught the looks of confusion that passed between Nathan and Buck just before Nathan turned away and moved to a side table.

"What do you mean?"

JD lifted his shoulder in a one-armed shrug and winced again with the movement. "It must have been one hell of a fight." He gestured at the obvious bruises on his bare chest. "Bet the other man looks worse than I do, right?" His grin went unanswered. JD tucked in his chin and frowned. "What’s wrong? Did you miss the fight, Buck?"

"Yeah…uh --"

"How ‘bout lettin’ me take a look at those ribs now." Nathan returned and patted Buck on the shoulder, covering the question.

Ignoring Buck’s apparent confusion, JD bobbed his eyebrows once in a ‘whatever’ expression and shifted himself against the headboard. Strained muscles in his arms and shoulders shook under his weight and he collapsed weakly back against the mattress. He looked up at the men and laughed humorlessly. "Guess it took more out of me than I thought."

Nathan reached out to support him. The healer leaned over and his chin brushed gently against the top of JD’s head. When Nathan’s warm palms pressed under his arms, he trembled with revulsion and pulled back. "I can do this, Nathan, I don’t need any help."

Nathan acquiesced and shifted back a step but didn’t remove his touch.

"I said I can do it!" JD thrust the hands away and ducked his head to avoid seeing the man’s expression. Unexpected anger welled up and threatened to crash over him like a tidal wave. Embarrassment heated his face.

"I think I’ll go see if Chris and Vin had any luck."

JD snapped his head up to see Buck hitching his thumb toward the door. "Luck with what?"

"JD?"

Realizing Nathan was distracting him from Buck twice in as many minutes, JD held up his hands and kept silent until Buck left the room.

"Okay, I can take a hint." He pushed himself back against the headboard again and pressed his lips together to contain the groans that vibrated through his chest. An uncomfortable pull through his abdomen let him know he probably had some injuries there, too. He resolutely ignored the heated pain in his butt.

Heavy bangs fell into his eyes with his movements. He reached up and threaded his fingers through his hair, pushing the strands away. Pain throbbed under his touch. "Ouch." Tentatively, he felt of his forehead and was greeted with more discomfort.

"Yep, you got a bruise there, too. JD, you remember wakin’ up earlier?"

"Huh?" He looked up as Nathan gently dabbed at his forehead with a cloth. The man’s fingers tightened around the material and the smell of whatever concoction the healer had soaked the rag in wafted out. JD wrinkled his nose in reaction. "God, that stinks something awful, Nate. What is it?"

The older man grinned. "You don’t want to know. Here, hold it agin your head. I got something I want you ta drink." He waited until JD lifted his hand and pressed against the cloth before letting go.

JD waited while Nathan moved back to his table. "So – what happened?"

Nathan didn’t turn around but his shirt shifted across his back when his muscles tightened. He twisted to look over his shoulder at his patient. "We was hopin’ you could tell us."

JD shook his head and gave an abbreviated shrug in deference to his injuries. "I don’t remember."

The healer finished whatever he was doing and returned to the bed, a glass of water in one hand. "Chris and Vin figured maybe whoever did this might still be in town, so they’re takin’ a look around."

Dark fear crawled into his belly and JD fisted his free hand into the quilt. What am I afraid of? He lowered the cloth from his head and offered it to Nathan. "Thanks. My head feels better now." He took the water and drank it, barely noticing the earthy taste of added herbs.

Muddled excuses for his unexplained fear bumped against each other in his head. The door opened abruptly and his thoughts took flight like frightened quail breaking cover. Josiah came quietly into the room and shut the door behind him.

"How you doin’, JD?"

JD nodded. "I’m fine. I can’t seem to remember what happened, though. How did I get here anyway? If the fight was in town, I would have figured someone would have seen it." His voice climbed with irritation and again he looked away in embarrassment. Why am I acting like this?

"Joseph Sawyer brought you in."

A brief image of an older man, hair shaggy and unkempt, sprang to mind. Memories of a silhouette haloed in sunlight flashed bright against the darkness of his thoughts and he gasped. The quick movement proved painful for his injuries and he squeezed his eyes shut. Crossing one arm over his chest, he pressed his hand to his ribs.

"JD? You all right?"

He nodded away Nathan’s concern, berating himself for being so emotional. Dammit! Cringing like a girl! What’s the matter with me?

"Did you remember something?" Josiah’s voice drew his attention.

The man’s deep rumble soothed his turmoil like a balm and he dropped his head back against his pillow. Weariness leaded his limbs, anchoring him to the bed. He opened his eyes. "No. Just hurtin’ is all."

Nathan stepped into his view. "What I gave you should help. Just relax and go to sleep."

Layers of peace coated his mind and troubling thoughts were held at bay. A warm pressure settled against his forehead. He recognized the nasty smell of Nathan’s remedy for bruises and smiled.

Josiah’s deep voice rumbled across the room, "Ohhh, I think he likes that."

His eyes snapped open and he sprang from the bed before he realized he was moving. Hands caught at his arms and held him firm. Pain shredded his insides and pulled him double, but he lashed out, fighting against his body’s need for respite. A wailing sob of denial caught in his throat and he choked for air.

His name rumbled against his face, vibrating through the bones in his cheek. "JD! For God’s sake, JD, stop it!"

Josiah. Nathan. He was home in the clinic, not…. not….where? What hole had he fallen into and found hell waiting for him? Something blocked the memories pushing in his mind, bulging behind the wall of protection he’d built. He pulled back, away from the images that flickered against his soul like a fire’s burning heat.

His mind numb with the mixture Nathan had given him, JD surrendered to the blank darkness calling. He folded into the arms holding him and slipped away into unconsciousness.

Josiah met Nathan’s troubled gaze over the dark head cradled against his chest. Silently, in mutual agreement they lifted JD’s limp body and carried him gently back to bed.

Nathan’s hand lingered on the kid’s forehead. "All I can do is mend his body, Josiah." He looked up at the preacher. "There’s nothing I can do for what’s hurtin’ his mind."

Josiah dropped wearily into a nearby chair. He bent to retrieve his hat from the floor then rested his elbows on his knees. He ran his callused palm along the brim, smoothing away the new bend from his struggle with JD. "I’m not sure it’s up to us to do the mending, brother." Lifting his eyes to glance once at Nathan, he lowered his gaze back to his hat.

When the preacher remained silent, Nathan left the bed and moved to his meager collection of herbs. At least he could take care of the injuries he could see.

Shadows slid across the floor, moving with the sunlight outside the window, and the two men waited for JD to wake up.

The clinic door abruptly swung open. Josiah and Nathan looked up in surprise. A young man stood panting in the entranceway, bright afternoon sunlight edging his form in sharp detail. Lamplight from inside the room revealed his panicked expression. His wide eyes flickered around the room and lit on Nathan. He took a step forward and pulled his hat from his head.

"Felicia’s having her baby, doc. You gotta help us."

Nathan nodded and looked kindly at the distraught father-to-be. "I figured I’d be hearin’ from ya’ll soon." He looked over his shoulder toward the bed and frowned. Josiah caught his eye.

"I’ll stay with JD."

The crease between Nathan’s eyebrows deepened and he half turned toward the bed. His visitor took another step into the room, a sound of impatience groaning in his throat. The healer glanced at him, then looked back at Josiah. "When he wakes up make sure he keeps good ‘n still. I need to wrap those ribs ‘a his before he moves around."

"I’ll watch him." JD lay sleeping, blissfully ignorant of the rising tension in the room.

Smiling gently in thanks, Nathan busied himself shoving cotton bandages and other items into an old carpetbag. He spoke to Josiah without looking up. "We shouldn’t be too long." He hurried toward the door, stopping long enough to swing the waiting young man around and head out. "You got plenty of rags at the house?"

The answer was lost when the door shut. Josiah breathed a quick prayer for the mother and baby then returned his attention to the sleeping man.

JD lay on his side, faced away from the preacher. His shoulders rose gently with his easy breathing. He made a sound in his sleep, not quite a moan but more than a sigh. Tucking one hand under his chin he rolled farther over onto his stomach. The quilt slid from his shoulders, exposing his back. Josiah’s breath caught in his throat. Dark bruises marked the skin over JD’s shoulder blades and dotted down his spine like a child’s clumsy charcoal drawing.

The click of the door opening arrested his attention. He pulled his stare from JD to find Buck waiting. Buck looked around the room then back at Josiah. Confusion pulled his eyebrows into a frown.

"Where’s Nate?"

Josiah took a deep breath before answering. His lungs felt strangely empty, as if he’d been holding his breath forever. "Marcus Frazier showed up."

Buck stepped farther into the room and shut the door behind him. "Oh. Baby, huh?"

Josiah nodded and stood when Buck moved toward the bed. He pulled the quilt up, sheltering JD’s injuries from Buck’s view. The sight stoked a burning pit of anger in his belly, but it would be nothing compared to the insane madness Buck would be sure to feel. Not yet.

Buck removed his hat and placed it on the side table, oblivious to Josiah’s actions. He ran his hand through his hair and drifted around the room, idly touching the shelves and bottles. "How’s he doing?"

Josiah straightened from his position over JD and turned to face the other man. "He was a bit agitated earlier but seems to be sleepin’ fine right now." Aware of the gross understatement, he quickly changed the subject. "Any word from Chris or Vin?"

Buck shook his head and settled into a chair near the bed. "Nope. Vin says he ain’t seen a stranger in town in over a week. Ever since the flood washed out the road headin’ east last month no one’s wandered in but a lone miner or two."

Buck looked up to find Josiah’s gaze locked on him and he raised his eyebrows in question. "What? I got something in my teeth?"

Josiah smiled and shook his head. "No. More like something on your mind."

Buck leaned forward to brace his elbows on his knees. His tightly clasped hands revealed underlying tension but his voice breathed whisper soft. "I’ve been thinking about what happened to JD, ‘a course. Wonderin’ who did this, wonderin’ why."

"Could be he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Could be. Could be more."

Josiah acknowledged the worry in Buck’s voice with a tilt of his head. "You think he was attacked on purpose? Like someone singled him out?"

Buck spread his arms wide, a gesture of helpless frustration. "I don’t know." He stood quickly and walked to the window. Propping his forearm against the wall, he leaned forward as if searching for something in the street below. "Chris and Vin don’t think so," he continued. "They’re of the same mind as you."

A huffing breath from the bed pulled their attention to JD.

"Can’t a man get a little rest around here?" JD rolled onto his back and his eyes squinted open.

"Sorry, kid." Buck looked sheepishly at Josiah. "I can stay for awhile if you need to be some place."

"Why don’t you both go somewhere?"

The surliness in JD’s tone surprised them both and Buck twisted around to stare at the young man.

"What’s the matter, kid?"

"Nothin’." JD turned restlessly on the bed. His knees tented the quilt as he moved and shifted toward the headboard. The patchwork covering slid down to his waist and Buck’s eyes were pulled to the livid bruises on the kid’s chest.

Muscles in JD’s shoulders quivered and bulged beneath his skin when he settled his weight on his elbows and shoved himself backwards, arching his back slightly with the effort to sit up. A strained groan of pain hissed out between his clenched teeth and Josiah took a step forward, one hand out in warning.

"Nathan said not to move ‘till he gets back, JD. He wants to wrap those ribs nice and tight."

"I can take care of myself, Josiah, thanks."

"Yeah, we can see how well you take care of yourse--"

"Don’t preach to me!" The outburst shattered the afternoon quiet, cutting into Buck’s teasing.

"Sorry." The gruff apology was forced. JD wouldn’t look at his friends. "It’s just…a man should be in control of what’s happenin’ to him. No one has the right—" Obvious emotion thickened his voice. "Just leave me alone so I can sleep, all right? If it weren’t for the damn nightmares--"

"Nightmares?"

JD glanced up at Buck. "Forget it." He slid back down into the bed with a grunt and rolled over, effectively shutting out Buck and Josiah.

Josiah’s eyes flickered toward the door and he lifted his eyebrows in silent suggestion. Buck read his signal and nodded in agreement. They left the room quietly, closing the door behind them.

After they’d moved away from the door Buck spoke. "He’s not actin’ himself, Josiah. Something’s wrong. And what was all that he was spoutin’ in there about control?"

Josiah kept his head lowered. The shadow cast by his hat brim hid his upper face from view. "We can only see with open eyes. We can only hear with open ears."

Buck made a sound of exasperation. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

The other man lifted his head. Light reached beneath the shadow and caught the moisture shining in the corners of his eyes. "You may not hear what you want to hear, Buck. Listen to what JD’s saying."

"I am listening! You heard what he said, same as I did!" Buck stood and lifted his hands in an open shrug. His body fairly hummed with tension.

"No."

The answer made Buck pause and he looked back at Josiah, waiting for the qualifier.

"I listened to his voice but I heard his heart. Watch his face – look at his eyes."

Buck stared at him while emotions played across his face. "What’s he tryin’ to tell us?"

Josiah shook his head and looked away. "I don’t know."

"Those marks on him." Buck locked eyes with Josiah when the other man looked up. "Whoever did this put him through a hell of a beating. That kind of pain works on a man’s mind."

"But he’s been through more than just a beating."

Buck straightened; his body stiffened. "What do you mean? You think he was tortured?"

"Maybe. It’s up to JD to remember and tell us if he can."

"Unless we could find the bastards who did this to him and beat it out of them." He growled the threat and swept his gaze toward the town.

"They may be long gone, Buck."

Buck turned his head and glared at Josiah. His eyebrows pulled down low to shadow his eyes, intensifying the hatred in his expression. "They better be, if they know what’s good for ‘em."

Late afternoon sun warmed his back despite the cold seeping into his soul and Josiah nodded, knowing he shared the same ache for revenge. They’d just have to be patient and wait, hoping JD would remember something.

Waiting was the hard part.

The thin cotton sheets he lay against felt deliciously warm. Muted sunshine filtered through thin curtains and heated the room pleasantly. Nathan’s clinic folded around him like a friendly presence, blanketing him with familiar comfort. The safe surroundings of home melted into his mind and spirit and magnified the shame he felt for the way he’d treated his friends.

JD's anger had pushed those spiteful words out of his mouth and Buck’s pained expression hung frozen in his head. His own hatefulness and surly attitude when he'd uttered that harsh request played unconsciously across his face again. Guilt was a sore spot in his chest and he raised his hand absently to rub across his breast.

He twisted in the bed slowly, aware of the uncomfortable tugging in his sides and belly. More pain throbbed in other places on his body, but he resolutely ignored the discomfort. Reaching up he probed tentatively at the bruise on his forehead. Must have hit my head. Maybe that’s why I can’t remember.

Finally, impatient with sleep that wouldn’t come, he shoved the quilt down. Shifting his weight to his elbows, he rolled to his side then carefully sat up. His breathing became labored and he frowned with the pain that shot through him. Nathan said not to move. Josiah’s warning echoed back to him and he hissed a curse, forgetting his earlier shame. Talking to me like I was a kid. I can take care of myself, dammit!

He pressed his palm to his side, supporting bones that felt fragile as china, and pushed himself off the mattress. Clinging with bloodless fingers to the headboard’s knobby post, he straightened but couldn’t keep a strained grunt from escaping his tightly clenched teeth. The room swayed for a moment. He kept the back of his knees against the bed, gaining balance from the solid presence. His longjohns hung loose on his hips. He felt vulnerable and strangely exposed but couldn’t risk letting go in order to hike up his clothes.

Taking a quick shallow breath to prepare himself, he let go of the bed. Shuffling across the floor like an old man, he moved cautiously toward the bureau that held Nathan’s concoctions. He reached out with one hand and grabbed the corner of the furniture, annoyed with his lack of strength. His movement disturbed Nathan’s collection of bottles. Bowls scattered across the surface and containers clinked together.

A flash of sunlight off the bureau’s mirror caught his attention and he raised his head. Shock held him in a firm grip when he saw the reflection of bruises discoloring his belly and chest. He moved his hand to his stomach and brushed carefully across the mottled skin. The touch seared tender nerve endings and he flinched in surprise.

Why can’t I remember getting hurt? The thought was immediately followed with a more disturbing one: Do I want to remember?

A sudden cramp squeezed through his abdomen and he grunted and folded over. The pinch of broken ribs protested his body’s compression and he cried out softly with the additional pain.

When the tight clench of muscles released him he found himself on his knees, panting from exertion. His forehead pressed against cool boards, supporting him and keeping him from falling completely flat. He rolled his head, taking advantage of the respite against his fevered brow. Now how the hell am I supposed to make it back to the bed? The unexpected coolness of sweat drying on his skin made him shiver.

Moving slowly, as if afraid of scaring up the pain again, he unwrapped his arms from around his body and lowered his hands to press against the floor. He couldn’t help but wish someone would come and save him from the embarrassment of crawling back to bed. But then again, he could take care of himself, right? A slightly hysterical chuckle bubbled out of his throat with the irrelevant thoughts running through his mind.

The unfamiliar action of sliding along the floor on hands and knees took all his concentration. His body throbbed in time with his movements, a building rhythm of pain playing through his torso and head. When he reached the bed he slumped gratefully against it for a moment to catch his breath.

The door opened and he cursed. Grabbing the top of the footboard quickly he tried to heft himself off the floor. Thick streaks of pain cut through him. His vision grew red with agony and he collapsed into the deep chasm of torture that opened up at his feet. Black, continuous walls rose around him, sending him deeper into hell. He submitted to escape the searing pain.

Darkness and swirls of foggy light mixed and ran through his head. Harsh laughter bounced off the walls he’d built and couldn’t tear down. His protection had become his trap.

/

/

/

/

Josiah slipped his arms under JD’s knees and lifted with Buck. The two men carried JD to the bed. Leaning over to lay him down, Buck overbalanced slightly. He dropped the kid harder than he had intended and caught himself against the headboard with one hand. He quickly pulled his other hand out from under JD and braced himself against the mattress to keep from crashing atop him. Josiah was more graceful, withdrawing his arms tenderly from under JD.

"Buck."

"What?" He looked up. Josiah’s eyes focused not on him, but on JD. Following his line of sight, he saw JD’s long johns pulled precariously low on his hips. Deep furrows left by fingernails slashed across his lower abdomen and disappeared under the garment, continuing to his groin. Bruises mottled the fair skin on JD’s hips and half moons were cut into his flesh. The discolored marks took the form of skeletal hands and fingers, as if the dead had assaulted JD.

"Aw, kid." Dammit.

Buck collapsed weakly onto the edge of the mattress, barely avoiding JD. Grief pulled him down and squeezed his heart dry.

Josiah reached out and pulled the quilt up, shielding JD’s injuries from view. The room turned funeral, the air felt heavy and thick, hard to breathe. "I’ll see if Nathan’s coming."

Buck didn’t look up when he heard Josiah leave. Shock siphoned strength from his soul, leaving him weak. His head echoed with emptiness. JD shifted on the bed. He pulled one arm from the covers and lifted his hand to his face, bumping his wrist against Buck’s knee.

"Easy, kid, take it easy." The words were automatic, but the comfort was missing. JD’s eyes fluttered and Buck moved from the bed, terrified those eyes would open and trap him with a question.

The kid’s arm slumped back to the bed and his eyes remained closed. Guilt twisted a thick knot in Buck’s conscience. He flinched when the door opened abruptly and Josiah returned.

"Chris is heading out to the Frazier place to get Nathan. How’s he doin’?"

Buck glanced at him then crossed his arms over his chest and moved to the other side of the room. "He’s still out."

Josiah walked to the bed. He leaned down to touch JD’s forehead, then brushed the back of his fingers gently across the young man’s cheek. The gesture was tender, full of sympathy and sorrow.

"Do you think – what do you think happened to him?" Buck whispered, afraid of waking JD.

Josiah didn’t look up. He rested his palm across the top of JD’s head, like a preacher bestowing a blessing. Buck caught his breath and squeezed against the sadness welling up in his chest.

Josiah looked up. His eyes grew hard with hatred and his chin trembled. "I think he battled Satan. And lost."

The two men waited while hours passed, empty and unnoticed.

Approaching steps broke the silence. Nathan entered, an unrestrained smile lighting his face. Chris followed him in.

"How’d it go, Nathan?"

The healer looked toward Josiah as he removed his jacket. "Mrs. Frazier’s fine. She had a boy." The other men nodded at his announcement. Nathan quickly put his jacket aside and hurried to the bed. He touched JD’s shoulder and looked at Buck. "What happened?"

"He decided to take a walk when no one was here." Buck moved to the opposite side of the bed and faced Nathan. "I found him on the floor."

"Dammit." The curse erased all joy from the healer’s face. He unbuttoned his cuffs and began rolling up his sleeves. "Did he hurt his ribs?" Without waiting for a reply, Nathan drew back the bed covers. He froze when the marks on JD’s body were revealed. His eyes flickered up to Buck across the bed. Acutely aware of the other men, he discreetly reached down and pulled up the long johns. Shifting to block JD from view, he looked back up at Buck. "Has he woken up?"

Nathan kept his voice low. His words strained with grief and Buck noticed Chris’ reaction across the room. The gunslinger raised his head. He studied Nathan’s back with a wary look on his face.

"No." Buck’s answer drew Chris’ attention. Their eyes connected but Buck lowered his, unwilling to address the unspoken question.

"Buck – I need you to hold him up while I wrap his ribs. Josiah – can you hand me that bundle over there?" He pointed to the pile of material on a chair. Josiah moved to help and Nathan nodded. "Thanks."

Buck lifted JD’s upper body and slid in behind him. The young man felt like dead weight; his limbs flopped at his sides. JD’s head dropped back to rest on Buck’s shoulder. Hair dark as a crow’s wing feathered against the older man’s cheek and he reached up to brush it away.

He looked down and flinched when he realized he held JD’s hips, shadowing the markings left by his attackers. Muttering a cruse under his breath he moved his hands to grip JD’s upper arms. The kid shifted and moaned. Buck draped one arm over his shoulder and held him firm. JD’s chest rose and fell against his grasp as the young man breathed.

"Did he say anything while I was gone? Did he remember anything?" Nathan readied the strips of cloth.

"No."

The healer held the end of one cotton strip against the middle of JD’s chest and began wrapping the injured ribs. When he was almost finished, JD began to stir. Nathan reassured him. "Almost finished, JD, just stay still a little longer."

The bandages stopped just below the kid’s lower ribs. Nathan deftly tied off the end and gently continued his exam of JD’s bruised torso. He worked quickly; his large hands delicately probed JD’s abdomen and sides. JD arched in Buck’s arms and moaned. Nathan reached out with one hand and pressed against his chest, pushing him back down.

"I know it don’t feel good, son, but you gotta take this, now."

"Serves him right for takin’ a stroll like that."

Nathan looked up at the harsh words and saw the worry on Buck’s face. Grief shrouded Buck, making him appear older.

"Uhhhh"

The pained grunt moved Nathan to speak. "I know, JD. Just a bit longer."

A moment later, the healer was finished. "Okay, let him down easy now, Buck."

Buck moved from behind JD, shifting out from under his weight, supporting him carefully back to the bed.

"How’s he doin’?" Chris stepped forward and drew Nathan’s attention.

"As well as can be expected. He shouldn’t be movin’ around. Those ribs ‘a his need time to heal."

"Any internal injuries?"

"I don’t think so. His belly’s not hard, but there’s likely to be some blood in his urine. I’ve seen men beaten like this bleed for a week or more, but they live through it."

Buck dipped into the basin near the bed and pulled a cloth from the bowl. He rang out the access water and wiped the towel lightly across JD’s brow. The kid opened his eyes and squinted up at him.

"Just rest, JD." Leaning close, he whispered in his ear, "We can’t help you unless you remember something. Try and remember."

Buck straightened but kept his hand on JD’s arm. He looked at Nathan and knew the man had heard his whispered words. Clamping down on the hopeless despair threatening to pull him under, he whispered his own entreaty: "Now what?"

Nathan pulled the quilt over JD. The faded patches settled over him, camouflaging his injuries. Only the bruises on his forehead and cheek remained uncovered.

Buck carefully dabbed the damp cloth across JD’s brow. He heard Chris move closer. The man’s presence was like a wall at his back.

"We need to talk."

Buck nodded and returned the rag to the bowl. He stood and looked at Nathan. "Let me know if he wakes up."

Nathan smiled wearily. Buck recognized his own burden reflected in the healer’s eyes. "He won’t be wakin’ up anytime soon. I ‘spect he’ll sleep through the night."

Buck passed close enough to clasp Nathan’s shoulder, then opened the door and left. Chris followed him out.

Buck moved to the rail and leaned back. He folded his arms, then lifted one hand to scrub his face.

Chris spoke first. "Vin’s gone off to Eagle Bend."

"Why?" Buck didn’t look up.

"Makes sense. Whatever happened to JD was done to him on his ride there. Whoever attacked him may have left something behind, something that would lead Vin to ‘em."

Buck looked up. Tension tightened his muscles. "That’s a lot of territory for one man to cover. Odds of him findin’ anything--"

"Would you rather do nothing?"

"Hell no!" The outburst galvanized him into action. Buck turned and pressed his hands to the rail. He bent over the edge, feeling the strain through his shoulders. "I’m ‘bout to go crazy just sittin’ here. But I don’t want to leave the kid, either. Especially now--" He stopped and flicked his eyes sideways at Chris, knowing he’d said too much.

"Why especially now?" Larabee moved closer. He lowered his voice. A curtain of silence encircled them, shutting out the town. "What aren’t you telling me? You know something?"

Buck closed his eyes and released the breath he’d been holding. Dammit. Chris was just too good at reading people. The glances he’d traded with Nathan painted a clear message for Larabee to see.

"Let’s take this inside."

Chris mutely followed him in and shut the door. Nathan stood near the window. His unfocused gaze was locked on the bowl in his hands.

"Nathan?" Chris took a step toward the healer. He frowned when Nathan didn’t respond. "Nathan!"

The rough tone shook Nathan from his trance. His head snapped up and he blinked. "What?"

"Are you all right?"

Nathan shook his head to clear it and lowered the bowl to the table. "Yeah. Just rememberin’ is all." He continued cleaning the bureau top, stacking bowls and shuffling bandages into neat piles.

A feeling of foreboding tightened the air. Buck settled into the chair beside the bed. Chris walked to the window and leaned against the wall. He watched his friends and noted the tension in the way they held themselves. His eyes slid to JD, asleep in the bed. The kid rested on his back, his chest gently expanding with his breathing. JD’s face was turned toward the gunslinger. A flash of sympathy squeezed his gut. My god, he’s so young.

Turning his attention to the window, he watched as darkness settled over Four Corners. Night colored the sky with hues of royal blue. Lights that shown muted during the day, glowed brightly against the backdrop of dusk. The view from the clinic showed part of the town’s main street. The crowd was subtly changing – ranchers and cowhands replacing the wives and businessmen. With a sigh that felt pulled from his soul, Chris spoke, breaking the strange quiet. "What do you think happened?"

The clinking of glass behind him stopped. He could imagine the glance Nathan and Buck were exchanging. He turned and caught an expression of despair fading from Buck’s face.

"Well?"

"We’re not sure." Nathan stepped into the gap. He picked up a towel and cleaned his hands. His gaze remained lowered, obviously avoiding Chris.

"What do you think happened?" Chris tried to keep impatience from coloring his tone.

Nathan looked at him, then glanced at Buck. "That look on his face – I seen it before."

"Who? JD?" Chris was becoming exasperated.

Nathan shook his head. He tossed the rag onto the bureau and moved forward, closer to Chris. "Not on him. On people I’ve worked with. Other slaves."

"I don’t understand." Chris turned to Buck for an explanation but the man wouldn’t look at him.

"Girls, young men, hell, even older men and women who was sent for …depending on what mood the master was in." Nathan’s voice dropped low until his words were nearly lost. "They was sent for." He moved protectively over to the bed unconsciously shielding his young patient from view.

Sent for? Fear leaped inside his heart and he clamped down on it, strangling it into submission. "What the hell are you sayin’?"

Nathan’s shoulders slumped. He lifted a hand and wiped across his face. "Chris, we think JD was raped."

My god. Air sucked from the room through the black hole that opened in his soul. Chris blinked, trying to reconnect with reality. This just didn’t happen. Not to young men looking for adventure in the West. Not to his friends. Not to JD.

"How – why –" Clearing his throat, Chris wrestled his thoughts into order. "Why do you think he was…" he couldn’t say the word. The sound of it was repulsive against his ears and the feel of it on his tongue churned bile from his gut.

Nathan looked down at JD in reaction to Chris’ statement. "His injuries. The …marks low on his belly—" Nathan grasped the quilt at JD’s hip and slightly lifted it. He gently pulled JD’s arm away from his side, mindful of the rope burns ringing his bruised wrist. He shifted the clothing to reveal deep fingernail gashes running raw down the kid’s body. JD stirred and released a short gasp, taking in the breath that Chris could not.

"I see it, Nathan."

"And his eyes." Nathan tucked the blankets back under JD. "You can almost see the demons he’s fighting." Chris looked at the face of his sleeping friend and exhaled deeply.

"What are we gonna do?" Buck’s strained question drew his old friend’s attention. He hadn’t moved from the chair. The curve of his back and his slumped shoulders emphasized his despair.

"We’re gonna get JD through this, Buck." The answer came naturally from the weary gunslinger. He moved forward and placed his hand on the distraught man’s shoulder. "It’s the only choice we have."

Buck kept his head down. He sniffed and wiped roughly at his face. Chris squeezed his shoulder and backed away.

"Are you stayin’ here tonight?"

"Yeah." Buck stood quickly. He pulled at the waistband of his jeans and walked stiffly toward the door. "I’ll – uh – I’ll be right back, I just need a minute —" He snatched his hat from the side table and shuffled out, shutting the door behind him.

"He don’t know how to fight this."

Chris looked up at Nathan’s soft words. "Do you?"

The healer’s eyes turned hard. He moved to the bed. Reaching down, he tugged on the quilt, adjusting it across JD. He brushed his fingertips across JD’s brow, sweeping away dark bangs. "I’ve seen this too many times not to know."

Chris clenched his jaw tight, unsure how to answer. He had no frame of reference. He couldn’t imagine such a heinous act being a part of his daily life.

"He has to remember." Nathan turned from the bedside and looked at Chris. "He’s blockin’ it in his head," he tapped the side of his temple, "and if he don’t let it out, it’ll fester, like any wound."

"How do we make him remember?"

"We don’t. This is something JD has to do for himself. He has to take that first step to start healing."

The door opened and Buck returned. He nodded to the two men and resumed his place beside the bed. Nathan moved back to his puttering, organizing his meager collection of herbs.

Chris adjusted his hat. It just wasn’t in his blood to wait. The longer he sat the more the tension would build until a tiny spark could set off an explosion. He walked to the door. "I’ll be back in the morning to check on him." He left.

Buck turned and found Nathan looking at him.

"You all right?"

Buck pressed his lips together. "I’m fine." He gestured toward the bed. "He’s the one that’s been …hurt. How the hell is he gonna live with this?" He glanced back at Nathan and blinked back the moisture in his eyes.

"He’ll live, Buck. He’s got us and we’ll make sure of it."

Buck nodded, hoping Nathan’s faith was strong enough to make up for his own lack of courage.

Night fell. JD slept.

Consciousness swirled and ebbed into JD’s dreams. The fog of oblivion lifted and sounds registered, pulling him closer to waking. His mind abruptly connected with his body. He pulled one arm from beneath the covering and opened his eyes.

A comforting golden light brightened the room, cornering darkness. Someone leaned over him, muting the illuminating glow. The form of head and shoulders wavered blearily in his vision and he blinked. Buck’s face came into focus.

" -- Buck? --" His tongue moved awkwardly in his mouth, stumbling across his words.

"Shh. Go back to sleep, kid."

He drew breath to sigh, and restriction around his chest cut him off. Lifting his hand, he discovered the cotton strips wrapped around his rib cage. Remembered pain guarded his movements. He held still, afraid of awakening the agony.

His cheek was cupped, and then fingers gently pushed back his hair. Cool air brushed across his face. He shivered, unnerved by the touch.

Distant shadows on dark wings danced through his mind, fluttering like moths around a candle. A soft moan of protest escaped his tightly clenched teeth, but he sunk deeper, allowing layers of oblivion to build and shut away his thoughts.

He blinked open his eyes and stared around himself in confusion. Blue sky winked through the window’s opening and sunlight threw a square of brightness across the floor. Maybe it was all a dream.

He moved, preparing to sit up, and winced at the tight pull across his chest. The quilt slid down and revealed cotton bandages. With a frown he touched the wrapping. So much for that idea.

The small room was empty. Hoping someone stood outside the door, he called. "Nathan?"

The door opened and Buck entered. He slid sideways through the entrance, smiling widely. "’Morning, kid. How you feelin’?"

"Good enough to get out of bed."

Buck’s smile stiffened. He walked closer, his hands on his hips. "Why don’t you wait and ask Nathan about that?"

"I don’t need permission to get out of bed, Buck. I’m not a boy, y’know."

"Then stop actin’ like one. How ya gonna get better if you push yourself too hard?"

JD stared at him then blinked. His eyelids felt puffy. He reached up and rubbed the sleep away.

"Sorry, kid."

JD ignored the peace offering. Instead, he kicked his legs beneath the covers and rolled to his side. His chest felt uncomfortably tight. Other than quick, shallow pants, breathing seemed impossible.

"Help me up." Still on his side, he reached for Buck’s hand.

The older man tilted his head, a look of incredulous disbelief widening his eyes. "Have you gone deaf? You need to stay in bed, JD."

"No, I need to get up. And if you won’t help…" He lifted his arm above his head. Grabbing the headboard, he pulled, determined to sit up. Strain-tightened muscles rippled through his shoulder and expanded into his chest. Eyes squeezed shut with concentration he flinched when Buck’s hands grasped his rib cage.

"Damn it, kid, you’re stubborn as a mule."

With his friend’s help, JD sat up, grimacing through his efforts. "…Learned that…from you…" Gasps of air pumped through his lungs. He caught his breath and let it out slowly, hoping to curtail his movements. He turned to find Buck grinning at him.

"I’m glad something I been trying to teach you got through that thick skull of yours." Buck ruffled his hair.

JD ducked to avoid the teasing. His sides pinched with pain. He pressed both palms to his ribs.

"Easy there. I told you not to get up."

JD straightened with a groan. He braced one hand against the mattress and grabbed Buck’s shoulder with the other. "Help me up."

"The hell I’m--"

"What’s going on here?" Nathan hurried into the room, a coffeepot in his hand. He slammed it down hard on the stove, then turned to the bed. Weariness lined the healer’s face. "What’re you doing out of bed, JD?"

"Good morning to you too, Nathan."

"What the hell are you doin’, Buck?" Nathan’s heavy-lidded eyes blazed at the older man as the blame shifted.

"What am I doing? I’m tryin’ to keep him in bed!" Buck hastened to defend himself.

"It don’t look like it from this end."

"Nathan!"

The healer stopped, more words of complaint stuck in his throat, and turned his attention to JD.

"It’s my decision. Now, I’m tired of layin’ in this bed and I want out. Besides, you look like you could use a break."

"Never mind about me. You ain’t been here that long, JD. I know you’re still hurtin’; I can see it on your face. You need to stay in bed."

"Fine."

Surprise held them frozen for a moment before Buck spoke. "Huh?"

"I said ‘fine’. But if I gotta be in bed, I want it to be my own. It’s not gonna kill me to walk down to the boarding house, is it?"

"Not if you--"

"That’s what I thought. Now, help me up and into my clothes, boys. I ain’t got all day."

Curtailing their actions to meet JD’s needs, Buck and Nathan moved slowly. Nathan suggested the kid stay on the edge of the bed while he and Buck helped with his pants. After they’d worked the legs on, they draped JD’s arms over their shoulders and stood.

JD trembled in their hold but didn’t complain. Buck pulled the garment up, working it gently past his hips. He twisted to button them and his knuckles brushed against JD’s abdomen. JD flinched. He tugged his arm from around Buck’s shoulder. Grasping the other man’s wrist, he stilled his movements.

"I can take it from here, Buck, thanks." Refusing to look up, he let go of Nathan and worked the buttons. His fingers fumbled with awkwardness and he shook from weakness. He managed two buttons before collapsing against Nathan.

The healer gently wrapped an arm around him and lowered him to the bed. "You’re doing just fine, JD."

Their bodies pressed together, and fear pierced through him. His heart jumped in his chest, beating so hard it hurt. He lifted his hand to rub the ache away.

Misreading the gesture, Nathan patted his shoulder. "I know those ribs hurt, son. Why don’t you rest a minute?"

"No." JD shook his head to emphasize his answer. "If I stop now I won’t get up till tomorrow. Where’s my shirt?"

Exasperation tinged the heavy sigh that gusted from Nathan. "Damn, you’re stubborn."

Buck walked across the room and retrieved a shirt. When he returned, JD held up his arms as much as he could despite the strain in his sides. When he was dressed, he pulled his arms in, holding his stomach.

"What’s the matter?"

"I’m okay." He grunted and unwrapped his arms, but kept one hand pressed to his belly. "Stomach cramps hard now and then."

Nathan nodded, an open expression of understanding on his kind face. "I’m not surprised. It’ll let up in a day or two, if you rest."

JD grinned through the implied threat. "That’s what I’m plannin’ on doing, Nate, soon’s you two quit lollygagin’."

"How you like that? Tryin’ to help the kid out and all he does is complain." A smile rang through despite the teasing words.

JD looked up. "Thanks, guys."

Buck knelt at his feet and helped JD put on his boots. He glanced up and noticed the bandages showing through the open shirt. "We got you trussed up like a present, JD. Bet you’re ‘bout ready to get unwrapped."

Terror shot through him, sharp and hard, cutting off his air for a moment. He blinked and Nathan was crouched beside him, his hand dark against the pristine bandages across his chest.

"JD?"

Buck had one hand on his knee. "You remember something, kid?"

JD shook his head. Images scattered like dry leaves in the wind. "Just lost my breath there for a sec. You about done, Buck? I’d like to get going."

He ignored the glance that passed between his two friends. Bracing himself on Buck’s shoulders, he pushed himself to his feet. Nathan rose with him and gripped his elbow. He held his other hand against JD’s back, steadying him when he swayed.

Buck stood and gently grasped JD’s other arm. "Ready for that walk now?"

"I been ready." The raspy quality of his words stole some of the irritation, but couldn’t mask his determination.

"Let’s go, then." Moving in close, Buck wrapped his arm around JD.

The man’s forearm pressed into his side. Fingers groped near his hip, then grabbed hold. JD tightened his jaw as revulsion crawled under his skin. He knew he couldn’t walk across the room on his own power, much less all the way to the boarding house. But depending on another’s strength nagged at his pride. And Buck’s touch against his skin made him want to scream.

Buck pulled JD’s arm over his head, draping it across his shoulder and started forward. JD shuffled with him across the floor. Buck moved his hand, pressing into the kid’s side.

JD flinched and put his hand atop Buck’s. "A little tight there, Buck."

"Oh." He loosened his hold. "Sorry."

Their slow gait taxed JD’s patience. Nathan opened the door when they were close enough and all three left.

The stairs presented another challenge. Nathan moved close and pulled JD’s free arm across his shoulders. He and Buck took most of JD’s weight as they thumped down the steps. JD grunted painfully and sagged in their arms. Nathan pressed his lips together, fighting against the urge to drag the young man back to the clinic.

The boardinghouse loomed invitingly close. The early morning hour assured there’d be few people on the streets. Buck and Nathan were huffing nearly as hard as JD when they lowered him to his bed.

With a low groan of anguish, JD pulled his knees up and clutched his belly. Rapid breathing exaggerated the movements of his chest. He rolled to his side, his gasping increased.

Concerned, Nathan leaned over him. "Take it easy, JD. Try to slow your breathin’. That’s it, keep it nice and steady, now."

Eyes shut, his lashes dark against colorless skin, JD’s breathing slowly evened out. The tips of his bangs spiked together, wet from the sweat on his brow. Nathan pulled his cuff up with his fingers and gently wiped it across JD’s forehead, cleaning away the moisture.

"Is he all right?" Buck whispered next to Nathan.

The healer turned to him. "He’s a dang fool for moving like this, but yeah. He’ll be all right." He picked up a quilt and unfolded it, then placed it over JD.

"I’ll stay with him awhile, make sure he’s resting peaceful like."

Nathan smiled at Buck’s offer. Patting the man on the shoulder, he left.

JD shifted on the bed and mumbled. Buck leaned over him, holding still and listening.

" – It’s good to be home --"

The older man smiled and pulled off his hat. He tossed it in a corner, then sat in the room’s only chair, resuming his vigil. JD slept.

Vin Tanner knelt beside the burnt circle of ground. He rubbed dirt between his fingers and concentrated on the grains as they rolled against his skin. The ash was powder thin and darkened his fingertips. This clearing was similar to the other half dozen he’d spotted since leaving for Eagle Bend. But something about it felt different.

Sunlight dappled the leaf-strewn ground. He craned his neck and looked up through the branches overhead. Waning light winked between the leaves. Early summer heat felt warm against his cheek, but the hair on the back of his neck prickled and he shivered.

Brushing his hand across forest debris on the ground, he flinched when something scratched against his palm. Curious, he picked it up. The rough end a stained rope twirled between his fingers. He swept his gaze across the ground. His questing eyes picked out more pieces of thick twine.

The incongruity with the previous campsites he’d discovered bothered him. What would a man tie up, then cut free? Worry nagged him, pushing him toward a thought he couldn’t grasp. He rose from his knees but remained low to study the ground. Moving in ever widening circles, he searched the area.

It had been nearly two days since JD’s attack, plenty of time for trampled grass to straighten up and resume its natural shape. It hadn’t rained since the flood over a month ago. Vin noticed dark stains splattered on leaves and grass at his feet.

He knelt again and picked up a leaf half covered with a rusty brown smudge. The color was nearly camouflaged, blending with the leaf’s natural hue. Flakes slid away from the surface, flecking his hand with brown. Dried blood.

The grisly trail led him to a small creek meandering through the trees. The shallow banks sloped lower toward center, creating a rock-lined trough where water tumbled down. It was narrow enough to jump across and he did. He noticed the ground was undisturbed on this side of the stream. After a quick look around, he jumped back across.

Half-moon heel marks were imprinted in the ground not far from the water. The soil must have been soft when the person walked through. The ground had hardened with lack of moisture, freezing the boot’s impression. Vin traced the inside edge with his fingers and judged the print to be only a few days old.

On one knee, he let his eyes roam the ground. Variations of brown, from beige to chestnut, decorated the earth. Sharp edges of leaves and broken twigs created a landscape of points and angles. A softly rounded shape sat nestled among the debris, catching his eye.

He rose quickly and snatched the object from the ground. The bowler hat was filthy, one side was dented in and the brim was ragged. It was misshapen and misused. Vin gently pushed his hand inside, hoping to force it back into shape. He ran his fingers over the soiled surface, brushing away dried mud and bits of leaves. The material came clean easily, resisting stains, but the hat still appeared haggard and worn.

JD was home, safe, but he’d been here, bleeding and scared -- alone. Vin pressed his lips together. Anger ignited his heart, burning away his grief. His fingers tightened convulsively around the hat, crumpling the brim.

He continued searching the area. The boot prints lead in a jagged line back to the road -- probably JD’s path as he staggered home. Poor kid.

Back at the campsite, he found more prints. As close as he could tell, there had been three or four separate men. Their prints faded farther into the woods. Vin determined the angling path they took and soon came across a well-worn trail. He quickly returned to the clearing and retrieved his horse, then set off down the trail. Within an hour, it became clear where it led: Eagle Bend. He pushed his mount forward, eager to make progress before nightfall.

It was early the next morning when he rode into town. A few people walked the street, moving in and out of stores. Several of them glanced his way, eyeing him warily. The air felt tense, and Vin sat straighter, alert for surprises.

He stopped at the jail and dismounted. The Sheriff greeted him at the door. The man nodded a welcome, a grim look on his face. Vin entered the room and shut the door.

"Sheriff." He stayed by the door, a foreboding twisting his gut. Something felt wrong here.

"You one of Larabee’s men from Four Corners?"

Hoping his face hadn’t turned up on a wanted poster, Vin nodded. "Yep." He hooked his thumbs in his belt and leaned back against the wall. Without advertising his intentions, he kept his hands near his gun. The air itched and crawled over his skin. He resisted the urge to look over his shoulder to see if he were being watched. "I’m lookin’ for some men, thought maybe they passed this way."

The older man shook his head. He looked down at his boots for a moment before looking up at Vin. "These men wanted?"

Vin nodded.

"I’m afraid we’ve got troubles of our own here, son. I can’t spare anyone right now."

"I’m not really lookin’ for help," Vin clarified. "Friend of mine back in Four Corners was hurt. Four men jumped him on the road and I tracked ‘em here. I was hopin’you mighta seen some strangers in town or something."

The Sheriff stared at him, eyebrows lifted in surprise as Vin spoke. Then his face changed, closed in on itself. Sunlight through the window glinted on moisture that gathered in the corners of his eyes.

"I seen ‘em. We got three in jail, waitin’ for trial."

Vin straightened and moved from the wall. "That right?" When the man nodded, Vin touched his hat brim. Revenge sat hard in his gut, but he ignored the pull. "Much obliged, Sheriff. I won’t be takin’ any more of your time."

He turned to leave but the Sheriff held up a hand to stop him. "Wait. Your friend – he still alive?"

Vin frowned as fear clutched his heart. "Yeah. He’s hurt, beat up real bad, but he’ll live."

The Sheriff glowered at him for a moment, then sighed. He walked around his desk and sat in the chair. "Our man wasn’t so lucky."

Vin stepped forward and leaned against the desk. "You mean they attacked someone else?"

The lawman nodded, his eyes on the desktop. His jaw worked, muscles rippled as he clenched his teeth. When he spoke he sounded tired, defeated. "James McLinden. He was found this morning, out behind the livery stable. He’d been…mutilated, raped."

Vin sucked his breath in; shock punched him hard in the gut.

The sound brought the other man’s head up. His eyes were raw looking, red-rimmed and glazed. "They slit him, throat to belly." The man flinched when he described the injury.

"How’d you catch ‘em?" Vin’s voice whispered through the room, blending with the horrible image the sheriff painted.

"Bastards stayed in town. They got drunk last night in the saloon and bragged about it. Bartender remembered them this morning when we found the body. We caught up with three of ‘em about a mile out of town, passed out in a cold camp."

"What happened to the fourth man?"

"We figure he was smarter than the other three. He heard us comin’ and took off."

"Can you tell me what he looked like?"

The Sheriff paused and pursed his lips in thought. "From what the men say he was blond. His hair was all wild, sticking out from his head. He had a mouth of rotten teeth, his clothes were filthy, like he’d been sleepin’ on the ground. I never saw him myself, so that’s about all I can tell you." He looked up and studied Vin before continuing. "Posse’s after him now; we could sure use your help."

Vin gently adjusted his hat. "Y'already got it, Sheriff, but I work best alone. One of us is gonna find him, dead or alive. If I get him first, I'll sure let you know."

The lawman looked like he wanted to say more, but he stayed quiet. He stood up and waited in the door after Vin walked out.

The tracker moved to his horse and pulled himself into the saddle. A man walked over, passing him to join the sheriff. "Sheriff McLinden, second posse’s ready to head out."

Vin’s head snapped up. He stared at the lawman until the sheriff looked up at him. "McLinden?"

"He was my son."

Sorrow squeezed through his chest. Vin held his gaze another moment. Then he nodded and turned his horse and left. Grief beat at his back, urging him faster.

He tracked the posse easily. They left a swath of disturbed ground like a herd of buffalo. Even though they were loud and unseasoned, apparently someone in the group had enough talent to lead them in the right direction. Skirting around them, he picked up the fourth man’s trail.

Like the prints that had lead him to Eagle Bend, Vin soon found a pattern. This time, the man was heading for Four Corners. Despite the fading light, he spurred his horse faster. He’d been gone the better part of two days and a growing sense of urgency speared through him. He rode quickly into the night.

Midnight – his favorite time of day. With a pretty lady in his arms and a glass of beer in his hand, Buck Wilmington was happy. Rowdy music twanged against his ears, smoke blurred his vision, and he smiled. The smell of sweaty bodies pressed close together made the air feel thick. The cloying haze coated his skin. The saloon felt like home.

He’d stuck close to JD for several days but the kid had begun to complain. Buck finally relented -- there was nothing he could do to force JD’s painful memories past the barriers the young man had built. He knew he’d find more appreciative company at the saloon. A few hours of drink and pleasure would dull his worry, at least until he was sober again tomorrow.

A voice shouted above the steady cacophony of noise, drawing Buck’s attention. He craned his neck and peered through the press of bodies. In one of the dark corners, a man held a girl in his lap. The small space they’d squeezed into apparently heightened the man’s boldness. His fingers dug into the girl’s bare arm, dimpling her white flesh. He nuzzled her neck, his mouth sucking at her throat. Her face was turned away from him and her grimacing expression could never be mistaken for pleasure.

Despite the anger that pierced though him, Buck turned back to his own companion. He laughed when she brushed her fingers across his face and leaned down to nip at his ear. He pulled her close, enjoying the feel of a soft body in his arms.

A woman’s voice raised in anger cooled his pleasure. He pulled away from the young lady in his arms and shifted to look around her. The crowd parted in time for Buck to witness the girl slapping the man he’d noticed earlier. She stood and tried to leave. The man held her wrist with one hand and grabbed her jaw with the other.

"’Scuse me, Darlin’." Gently removing his companion from his lap, Buck stood up. He thumped his empty glass down on the table with more force than necessary.

Long strides brought him across the room quickly, but not fast enough to block the man’s open-handed slap. The pop of flesh against flesh was muffled by the surrounding noise. The girl’s head whipped back with the force of the blow and she stumbled against the wall.

Buck caught the man’s arm when he raised it for another strike. "That’s no way to treat a lady, friend." His harsh grip belied his civil words.

The drunken man stared at him, his slack features twisted with confusion. He exhaled whisky-tinged breath that blew moist against Buck’s face. Buck clenched his teeth and tightened his grip on the man’s forearm.

"Who the hell are you?" The stranger jerked from Buck’s hold. "This is none of your business, mister." Despite the smell of his breath and the blood-shot eyes, the man moved fast. He reached for the girl and pulled her roughly to him. He smiled when she resisted, pushing away from his chest.

Buck shoved his arm between them. As gently as possible, he pushed the girl away, extracting her from the other man’s arms. "You all right?"

Growling in rage, the man swung his fist at Buck. Buck jerked back, avoiding the blow. He used the man’s momentum against him, swinging him around to grab the back of his collar. "You just made it my business."

"Let go of me, dammit!"

The angry retort finally drew the crowd’s attention. The voices faded and several people turned to watch Buck lead his prisoner out.

The night air felt cold after the pressing warmth of the saloon. Buck sobered quickly and his anger grew, overtaking his usually amiable mood. The man in his hold obviously felt the difference. He straightened up and his staggering steps grew steady.

"Where’re you takin’ me?"

"To jail, where you think?"

"What for?"

"For disturbing my peace."

An instant tensing in the muscles under his hand was his only warning. The man twisted, tearing away from Buck’s fist, and kicked out. The boot’s edge caught him square on the bone below his knee. Buck cried out and went down hard on his injured leg.

He raised his head and a fist exploded against his cheekbone. Skin split and numbing pain burst through his sinuses. The metallic bitterness of blood coated the back of his throat. He blinked to clear his bleary vision. The man stood over him, half-rotten teeth bared in an evil grin of pleasure. Both arms were raised above his head, clenched together in a double fist.

Buck fell back on his elbows and kicked out hard with one foot. His boot slammed brutally into the man’s groin.

The attacker folded over, both hands cupped at his crotch. He tumbled face down in the street, his howls of pain broken with rasping breaths.

Buck stood up slowly. He turned to find a small crowd at the batwing doors. "It’s all right, folks, show’s over." He shooed them away with one hand. The pull of liquor and music drew them back inside.

He tested his weight on his damaged leg and dabbed at the cut under his eye. His fingers came away smeared with blood. Limping, he slowly made his way to the moaning man. He leaned over and grasped his prisoner’s arm, pulling him from the ground.

The other man groaned pitifully. Buck put a hand on his back and shoved him forward, indifferent to his plight. "Get goin’."

The man was still bent double when they entered the jailhouse. Buck stayed alert, wary of letting his guard down again. He opened the door to the cell and his prisoner jerked away from him, surly attitude coming to the fore. The man fell against the metal bars, shoulders hunched in pain. Opening his eyes, he looked at Buck.

"You like it a little rough too, huh?"

Buck glared at him. His skin crawled and his gut churned, repulsed with the closeness of this man and the darkness that clung to him.

"What the hell are you talkin’ about?"

A rusty chuckle rumbled out of the prisoner’s throat. "You know what I mean. Pain makes it better, makes you hard."

Understanding brought nausea. Buck grabbed fistfuls of the man’s dirty jacket. He flung him into the cell and locked it. "Sleep it off, mister. You’re drunk and you ain’t makin’ sense."

He moved back into the main office, ignoring the mocking laughter at his back. Slumping down into the chair, he raised his legs and crossed his ankles on the desk, but grimaced when his injury throbbed. He shifted his legs into a better position. Adjusting his hat, he pulled it low over his eyes. He wanted to go back to the saloon and wash away the nasty taste the stranger had left. Instead, he sank lower into the chair and deliberately turned his thoughts toward women, hoping to kick-start his dreams.

When he woke, early morning sunlight shown pale through the office window. He stretched his arms over his head, then reached down and scratched across his ribs. He stood up slowly, mindful of his sore knee and joints stiff from sleeping in a hard chair.

After checking to make sure his disruptive prisoner was still asleep, Buck limped out to the porch. Smoke curled up from several ash piles left by watch fires in the street. Shop owners were opening their doors and sweeping off their front steps. The air was crisp and fresh and Buck drew in a deep breath.

He turned and noticed JD walking toward him. The four days since the young man’s attack had healed most of the bruising on his face, but he still moved slow, protecting his other injuries. He kept his arms tucked close to his body, as if his ribs hurt.

"Mornin’, JD."

JD lifted his head. He nodded once in greeting. "What’re you doin’ here so early, Buck? There a prisoner inside?"

"What makes you think there’s a prisoner?" Buck tilted his head to the side and assumed what he hoped was an innocent expression. "I’m just carrying out my duties as a lawman in our fair town, keepin’ peace in times of trouble."

"Trouble?" JD looked around. "I don’t see any trouble."

Buck grinned, proud of the trap he’d sprung. "Of course not! Trouble’s too scared to show its ugly head when I’m in charge."

JD laughed, a sound that warmed Buck’s heart. The young man had yet to face what had been done to him; he hadn’t acknowledged the rape. His mood swings from depression to anger made a person dizzy. It was good to see some of the old JD shine through.

"Where are you headin’ so early this morning?"

JD ducked his head, trying to hide the blush heating his face. "I thought I’d lend a hand, start pullin’ my weight again." He looked up, an expression of hope brightening his eyes. "Why don’t you stretch your legs, go grab a bite to eat? I’ll watch the prisoner, make sure he don’t go nowhere."

Buck swallowed the smile he felt tugging at his lips. "Nathan clear you yet?"

"Aw, Buck. I’m not gonna be doin’ nothin’ but babysitting."

Buck relented, though he made a show of second guessing himself. "Well… I got a man inside, sleeping off his liquor. I doubt he’ll wake up for a couple hours yet, so he shouldn’t be any problem."

"I can handle it, don’t worry ‘bout me."

Buck stepped down from the porch. "I know you can, JD." He patted the young man on the shoulder and left. Spotting Chris up the road, he hurried to join him.

JD watched Buck go, then walked into the jailhouse. A snuffling snore graveled from the corner cell and he shook his head and grinned. He walked over to check the iron bars, making sure the cell was locked. The man rolled over and sat up with a yawn. Blond hair spiked out from his head and dirty teeth created dark spots in his open mouth.

JD froze and studied the stranger’s face. Images flashed through his mind: rope around his wrists and branches above his head, rough grass and broken sticks stabbing painfully into his back, knees bent to his chest, pain, agony, horror, grief, shame – swirling together into a maelstrom of memory, tearing down his thoughts and sweeping away his sanity.

The man’s eyes widened in recognition, then narrowed with glee. "Back for more, boy? I knew you liked it. Come on in here and keep me company."

His limbs felt disconnected, his bones swam in watery flesh. It was the Devil himself. As if in a dream, JD reached for the keys to the cell.

Buck had stepped off the porch gingerly, trying not to bend his sore leg. He was hopeful. JD’s willingness to resume everyday tasks seemed a good omen. The kid was finding a slow, careful path back to himself and Buck appreciated each step. Ahead, Chris was striding down the furrowed street and Buck hurried to catch up with him. When Chris looked around and saw his old friend limping, he slowed down.

"Heading for the saloon?"

Chris nodded. "What happened to you?"

Buck reached up and touched the small cut below his eye. "Just a little excitement last night."

Chris grinned. "Was she worth it?"

Buck laughed and clasped his friend’s shoulder, but before he could comment, the sound of pounding hooves caught their attention. Vin rode in fast. He reined his horse in to an abrupt stop and dust clouded at the animal’s feet. The tracker dismounted, nearly as breathless as the animal.

"Vin – what happened?" Chris grabbed the bridle near the horse’s mouth, calming the animal. "Did you find anything?"

"Yeah." Vin glanced at Buck then dipped into his saddlebag and pulled something out. He handed Buck JD’s ragged bowler hat and the older man smiled.

"I’ve actually missed this ugly thing, y’know?" His smile quickly faded when he saw the exhaustion on Vin’s face. "What’d else you find?"

"There were four of ‘em."

Buck felt the air turn cold around him. Anger pulled him down tight. He clenched his hand into a fist and gripped the hat tighter. He kept his eyes on the ground and whispered, low and deadly, "Where are they?"

"Back in Eagle Bend."

Chris looked up, surprised. "Why didn’t you bring them here?"

"I couldn’t. The law had ‘em."

"What?"

Vin nodded, anxious to share the disturbing information he’d learned. "Yeah. They killed a kid in Eagle Bend."

Buck blanched, terrified with what could have happened. Killed a kid? Well, they hadn’t killed JD.

"But they only caught three of the bastards. I been trackin’ the fourth for two days," Vin continued. "He’s here."

Chris instinctively scanned the town’s storefronts. "You know what he looks like?"

"Bartender said he’s blond, got kinda wild hair." Vin’s caustic words stirred something deep in Buck’s gut. He listened closely, building an image in his mind as Vin spoke. "Mouth full of rotten teeth, he must be one nasty son of a bitch. Sheriff said the gang beat the hell out of the kid there and then bragged about it. Like they took some kind of perverted pleasure in it."

The picture clarified and shaped itself into a familiar face in Buck’s mind. The warm sunshine suddenly felt like a betrayal on his skin. Fear iced his heart and stole his breath. His hands jerked open and he let go of the hat. Chris and Vin watched it fall slowly, as if a heart beat of time held it aloft before it collided with the hard earth.

JD was alone with him. Oh god, JD.

Wordlessly, Buck turned and fled for the jail. Chris and Vin glanced at each other and raced after him.

Buck heard the screaming before he reached the jailhouse. He recognized JD’s voice. He knows, he knows. The frightening mantra drummed through his head in time with his pounding feet. He bolted up the steps.

"JD!" He burst into the building. The sickening crunch of knuckle against bone spurred him forward. JD straddled the prisoner, his fists splattering blood, pounding and pummeling the man’s face into raw meat. The young man’s body twisted as he swung his arms, pistoning forward, hammering into his nightmare.

"JD, stop!" Buck rushed forward, arms already reaching. Chris and Vin exploded into the room behind him and he called to them. "Help me stop him!"

Hooking his arms around JD’s body, Buck tugged hard. JD’s knees were clamped tight to the man’s hips. His arms continued swinging wildly and one fist caught Buck on the temple. Buck floundered and tried to brace his heels against the floor. His boots slipped on the wood and he fell back. Chris caught him. Together, they wrenched JD away from the prisoner.

The roaring noise in the small room formed into words: "Get him off me!" The man was shouting, blood spitting from his mouth.

Vin worked his way past the other three. He deliberately ignored the pleas for help and stomped on the man’s shoulder, pinning him to the floor. JD’s attacker screamed and Vin growled at him. "Shut up or we’ll let him loose again. And if he doesn’t kill you, I will." The man curled around his pinned arm, but didn’t offer any resistance. He cowed at Vin’s feet.

Chris and Buck managed to drag JD across the room. The young man still fought blindly, high-pitched grunts straining from his throat. Chris tried to move closer, determined to break through JD’s terror, but JD’s fist swung too near. "Hold him, Buck!"

"I’m tryin’, dammit! He’s not seein’ us!" Reaching around JD, Buck managed to grab hold of the kid’s opposite arms. He slid his grip down to JD’s wrists and pulled back. JD fought harder as his crossed arms pressed painfully into his broken ribs.

Chris howled when a sharp-toed boot caught him on the shin. Enough, dammit. Clamping down on his pain-induced anger, he swung and firmly slapped JD with the back of his hand, wrenching the young man’s head to the side.

JD stiffened in Buck’s hold. His wide eyes stared blindly at Chris. Sweat clung to his pale cheeks like condensation on glass. Moisture beaded long eyelashes and turned his eyes limpid. Blood welled from the corner of his mouth and oozed over swollen lips.

"JD?" Chris stepped closer and grasped either side of the kid’s head, tilting his face up.

JD looked lost. He raised his eyebrows and drew them together over his eyes, pulling his face into sad lines of despair. A tight wail squeezed out of his throat before he spoke. "Chris?" His breathing hitched and he moaned.

His eyes remained open but he slumped in Buck’s arms. His weight threatened to drag them both to the floor. Chris let go of JD and grasped Buck’s upper arms, adding support to Buck’s shaky stance. Heavy footsteps announced Josiah’s arrival. He took in the situation at a glance and moved to help Buck.

"It’s over now, John Dunne." Josiah’s voice was a steady, welcome calm. He gripped Buck’s hands briefly, encouraging him to release his desperate hold on JD. Buck relaxed and JD drew in a painful breath. His bloody fists dropped to his sides and he leaned into Josiah. The preacher enfolded the kid in his arms.

Chris wanted JD away from this place. "Get him to Nathan. We’ll take care of things here."

JD was leaning heavily on Josiah. Buck slipped his hand under JD’s arm and with the added strength JD moved into the early morning haze. After they left, Vin reached down and yanked JD’s attacker to his feet. He turned him and shoved him into the jail. The man fell and rolled to a stop against the far wall. He braced his elbow against the floor and regarded his jailers through squinted eyes. Comprehension dawned on his face and he made no attempt to feign innocence.

Chuckling softly, he rolled to his hip. He wiped his face and smiled at the blood on his fingers. "He was easier to handle when there was four of us."

Vin stiffened and pushed forward but Chris gripped his arm, holding him back. The tracker’s body vibrated with tension.

"What do you mean?"

The man lifted his head with Chris’ question. He noticed the restrained wrath on Vin’s face and the hand on his arm, holding him back. He ducked his head, intimidated with the twin stares of hate bearing down on him. "Nothin’."

Chris stepped closer. The man flinched and pressed his back into the wall behind him. He was cornered and he knew it.

"Did you attack that boy?"

The man smiled obscenely. "Attack?" He reached up to rub his jaw and smeared blood across his chin. His grin twisted, turning lewd and filthy. Chris clenched his teeth against the shivers that crawled up his spine. "We just had some friendly fun is all. But I gotta say, the kid has one tight ass--"

Before the thought could travel from his heart to his head, Chris kicked out. He aimed low, purposely hitting below the belt, and felt satisfaction stab through him when the man shrieked with pain.

He turned wordlessly and left the cell. Vin followed. The tracker clanged the door shut and the two of them walked dispassionately from the office, deaf to the sounds of wretched gagging behind them.

They stood on the porch together, watching people pass by. Vin finally spoke. "The kid at Eagle Bend -- he was raped."

Chris stared ahead, refusing to react to Vin’s announcement. JD’s dignity would be protected with his silence. It was the least he could do for him.

"I don’t know how JD lived through it." The younger man had obviously drawn his own conclusions.

"We gotta make sure he lives through this, too."

Vin nodded, his sharp features grim with determination. "I’ll take first watch with this piece of trash, but I don’t think he’ll be movin’ any time soon." He grinned and his eyes narrowed dangerously. "Don’t blame me if he ain’t alive for the next shift."

A single muscle twitched in the gunslinger’s jaw as his eyes slid to the tracker. He stepped down from the porch and headed for the clinic, fear gripping his heart. JD’s memory had been ripped open and he prayed the kid had the strength left to face the pain.

"I remember what happened." The two friends had walked with JD as far as the clinic steps when he pulled away from them. He sank wearily onto the third stair, then crossed his arms over his knees and rested his forehead on them.

"There was a fire…through the woods…I thought I could help."

His tone was flat and he spoke without lifting his head. Buck was silent. He placed one boot solidly on the step next to JD and shifted his weight to it. He watched as a slight breeze moved through JD’s dark hair. Josiah leaned on the outside of the railing and listened, his gaze roving across the features of the wakening town.

"There were three or four of them." The emotion in JD’s voice sliced into Buck’s heart. "They hit me in the head with somethin’ before I even saw ‘em. I couldn’t figure out what they wanted…why they were doing it." His voice began to rise. "It didn’t make any sense." JD’s breathing grew erratic, panting gusts that expanded his chest. Still he kept his eyes pressed to the sleeve of his coat watching images only he could see.

Josiah prayed the young man’s link with reality didn’t snap, pulling him away from this hideous memory. He reached over the railing and grasped a handful of JD’s jacket at the shoulder. "Because it don’t have any sense in it, son. Only madness."

JD kept his head down. Josiah released his jacket but kept a firm hand on his shoulder. JD’s voice sounded muffled as he continued. "It wasn’t any kind of fair fight, Preacher. One of ‘em would grab me and the other one would punch or haul off and kick me; that’s when my ribs broke." The words started to come faster. JD had to stop to catch his hitching breath. "My head hurt so bad I couldn’t see straight but I felt them tearin’ my clothes off." Defeat colored his words, shrouding around their shoulders like heavy fog as the dark picture that JD painted coalesced around them.

Josiah glanced up at Buck. The man’s face was drawn; he looked sick. The cut under his eye had darkened; the skin was puffy and bruised. He squinted against tears that had gathered in his eyes.

JD moaned quietly. The quick string of words ended and he fell silent. He dropped one arm and reached inside his coat to hold his hand protectively over his belly. Josiah could feel the young man’s body trembling and JD shied from his touch. He released his hold. None of them felt the morning sunshine that warmed the wooden stairway.

Buck wanted the whole experience to be emptied from his friend. Nathan had said anything left inside would fester like a wound and that rang true. He wanted to grab the kid and hold him to stop the painful flow of memories but continued to stand guard, hardly moving. He gritted his teeth, counting his own heartbeats and reluctantly broke the quiet.

"What happened then, JD?"

JD let out a quick, desperate breath. "They tied my hands." He sounded lost. Buck shut his eyes, fighting the pain that bolted through his soul. "They hurt me, all of them. It felt like a hundred of them. And they just kept hurting me."

Anguish pulled Buck tight and pierced through his heart, the pain as real as a sword thrust. He opened his eyes and sank to the steps with JD. He leaned against the young man to get him to lift his head. "I’m so sorry this happened to you, kid. I don’t know how you lived through it, but you did. And I’m so glad you did."

JD squinted at Buck, still seeing the vile images he could now recall. Grief distorted his face and he blinked back gathering tears.

A shadow moved slowly over the group as Chris stepped onto the boardwalk. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides. All three men turned to him. He met JD’s exhausted gaze straight on. "JD, are you gonna be OK?"

Outside noises seemed to cease. The world shrank down to JD’s trembling form flanked by his three friends. The young man focused on their faces, drawing strength. He didn’t speak. The only sound was an intake of breath. He bowed his head to his arms again.

Chris felt his throat close tight with emotion. He recognized the familiar pull of despair as it reached for JD and threatened to drown him. No, stay with us, kid.

"It’s over, JD. If they haven’t already been murdered then all four of the bastards are gonna hang."

The statement made him lift his eyes. "Four?"

Chris had JD’s attention and he was encouraged. "Vin picked up their trail and followed ‘em to Eagle Bend. The same men that jumped you attacked a kid there; he was the sheriff’s son.

JD didn’t flinch; he sat straighter. Sweat matted hair framed his features. The contrast turned his face pearl gray.

"Was the sheriff’s son?"

Chris suddenly felt that JD was leaning over the edge of a precipice. He instinctively reached for him, grasping his shoulders.

"JD! This gang is pure evil, filth. It’s a miracle that you’re still alive. The kid in Eagle Bend wasn’t as lucky." He slid one hand to the back of JD’s neck and squeezed. JD blinked at him, listening. Chris allowed his voice to grow softer, to show the emotion he usually kept hidden. "You're alive, kid. Don’t let those bastards kill any part of you." He released his hold on JD but braced his knees on the first step; worried JD might fall forward.

Tears that had gathered in JD’s eyes brimmed and streamed down his face. He reached up and brushed them away. His hand, bruised and cut from fighting, left a streak of blood across his cheek. The three men held a frozen tableau and watched JD absorb what Chris had said.

A rancher and his son strolled by near the men, tipping their hats in greeting. Dawn had crept to midmorning. Josiah nodded to them and turned to JD. "C’mon. Let’s get up to Nathan’s."

Chris pulled the dazed young man to his feet and the others surrounded him, shielding him protectively. He moved without resistance, following Buck’s form up the stairs.

They smelled Nathan’s coffee even before opening the clinic door. Nathan looked wide-eyed at the four men as they entered but said nothing, letting the tale tell itself.

Buck turned and grasped JD by the lapels of his jacket, guiding him to sit on the bed. His task accomplished, he sat down heavily beside him. JD was spent, exhausted with remembering. He’d broken through the numbing shell that had hardened around him since the attack. Now he waited at the threshold of recovery, hesitant to take a step.

Josiah moved forward and gently lifted both of JD’s hands in his large palms. "Nathan, JD’s hands need looking after. He’s been inflicting some punishment of his own. Can you fix ‘em up?"

Nathan moved quietly across the room. He slid over a small table with a basin of water and clean cloths. His face revealed only concern with the task at hand. He saw the change in JD and understood how far he had come. A bead of sweat ran down the side of JD’s face. The young man reached up to wipe it away, marking himself again with an injured hand.

"Damn. It’s hot."

Nathan nodded. "Let’s get your jacket off, son."

JD shrugged out of the coat. It fell in a crumpled heap behind him. Nathan reached for the kid’s arm, lifting it at the elbow, and stopped when he heard JD’s sharp intake of breath.

"Ribs still hurtin’?"

"It’s OK, Nathan. I’m OK."

His words hung in the air held aloft by his friends’ need to hear them. Chris shifted finally, and leaned against the wall, needing the support. He clenched his teeth against the twist in his gut.

"I’m sorry about what happened to you, kid." His voice grew tired and faint. JD raised his head and locked eyes with the gunslinger as Nathan gently cleaned his wounds.

"I know it can’t seem like it now but there are worse things in life than this." JD seemed to be listening with all the strength he had left. Chris revealed the depth of his heartbreak in his voice. "You can survive this." He poured the words into the younger man, planting hope in his barren soul. He held JD’s gaze but leaned more heavily on the wall, his own unspeakable horrors alive in his heart.

"Hold still now, son, this is gonna sting." Nathan held a bottle of whiskey over a deep cut across

JD’s knuckles. Buck reached around to bring a steady arm behind JD and felt the kid’s lungs inflate with the sudden intake of air. Nathan put the bottle down and sat on the bed next to JD without freeing his hand.

"And these two are broken." After drying them off, the healer carefully bound three of his patient’s fingers together.

JD winced but didn’t pull his injured fingers from Nathan’s gentle hold. He watched as the last of the bandage was put in place. An unexpected trembling of despair shivered through him and Buck’s steady grip became an embrace.

JD turned to his friend. He felt drained, parched. His dry lips parted as if he had more to say, but only his eyes spoke.

"What is it, kid?"

JD’s eyes met Buck’s. There was something he wanted to say. Something other than the deep hatred and shame that the attack brought him. He looked beyond the misery that held him and saw his friend’s familiar face. He relaxed into the older man’s embrace and felt warmed by the certain presence of friendship.

"Buck," his voice came out fragile but a wan smile shown through the glittering tears. "I could use a drink."

A surprised laugh gusted from Buck. He liberated the bottle from Nathan’s supplies.

"Now this here is good medicine." Tilting his head back he took a deep swallow. Josiah moved wordlessly across the room and picked up several glasses on the sideboard. Chris seemed to slowly awaken from a trance and he shifted forward, dragging two chairs over to the bed.

Each man played a part in getting the amber liquid to JD’s lips. The kid swallowed hard. He felt the liquor’s heat spread through his chest and gut. He held the glass awkwardly in both bandaged hands, unwilling to give it up.

The five men sat close together around the small table drinking in silence. The air in the room grew moist with the heat of close bodies, but no one moved. Peace drifted in like a slow moving cloud, shading their souls with comfort.

JD looked at the circle of faces surrounding him and drew a deep breath into his body.

Yes. I can survive.

Phantom fingers of wind played with the prairie grass, tossing it back and forth. The blades moved together, undulating like waves on the sea. The soft push and sigh of the grass whispered though the air, falling and swelling in volume. The soothing rhythm wove a hypnotic pattern, a patchwork quilt of sound.

Buck lifted his face. The gentle brush of air against sunburned skin was wonderful. He pushed his hat back. The breeze blew cool through the hair matted against his forehead. He sighed with pleasure.

The sun sat high overhead -- an exclamation point in a perfect sky. The horizon stretched a bumpy line in the distance, describing the cresting outline of rolling hills far to the north.

His horse shifted and stomped a hoof against the ground. Buck leaned forward and patted the animal’s neck. "I know, girl. Not much longer." She blew and shook her head and Buck laughed softly. He settled back in the saddle, adjusting the leg he had hooked over the pommel.

A brand new bowler hat sat in his lap. He picked it up and brushed his fingers carefully across the top. It had arrived on this morning’s stage, a week and a half after Buck had placed the order. He’d secreted the hat away, intending to surprise JD, following his ride this afternoon. These daily sessions had become routine for the young man since the attack.

Buck squinted, watching the distant figures move against the ground. Horse and rider stretched out. The animal’s pounding hooves ate the ground and gained distance in a race with the wind. Buck knew how the rush of speed could take your breath. The exhilarating ride forced everything else from your mind.

Hoof beats closer to his location reeled in Buck’s thoughts. He twisted and found Chris approaching. The gunslinger appeared unaffected with the midday heat. His black clothes swallowed the sun’s reflection.

Chris nodded as he drew up beside Buck. "Nice day for a ride."

Buck grinned at him then turned his gaze back to JD. "Sure is. Just like yesterday, and the day before that."

They watched as JD flew with the wind. His hair streamed behind him along with his jacket. He moved in perfect sync with the horse, elbows tucked close, reins held firm. Chris nodded approvingly. Despite JD’s first impression as a braggart, the kid could really ride.

Buck kept his eyes on JD. The fluid movement of the horse’s muscles rippling beneath the taut skin of its haunches stood out across the distance. The impression of leashed power was mesmerizing.

Chris sat up straighter, arching his back into a stretch. "How’s he doin’?"

"He’s coping." Buck heard Chris take a deep breath and release it slowly. "He laughed this morning."

"That’s a good sign." Chris glanced at the hat Buck held. "That for him?"

Buck snorted, unable to resist the temptation to tease his old friend. "No, it’s for you. I thought you needed a little variety in your somber attire."

Chris turned back to him. His expression was carefully bland. "You been spendin’ too much time with Ezra; you’re startin’ to sound like him."

Buck smiled.

"I had to release Barker a few hours ago." Chris referred to the prisoner -- JD’s attacker. "Lynch mob from Eagle Bend showed up ‘bout the same time a federal marshal did. Seems the bastard’s wanted in another county for murdering a court judge. The mob almost got ‘im, wanted to hang Barker right there--"

"You shoulda let ‘em." Buck’s voice was hard. He turned to Chris, his jaw clenched in anger. "A hangin’s too good for him." His knuckles turned white with strain when he tightened his grip on the pommel.

Chris nodded. Understanding softened his grim expression. "I know, partner. The marshal got him. He took off before the crowd could get him. I think if the town had known how Barker hurt JD, there wouldn’t have been a chance in hell of him makin’ it out alive."

Buck looked away. "He wouldn’t have survived the first night in jail if I’d had my way."

"He’ll get what’s comin’ to him."

Buck shrugged and pushed his frustrating desire for revenge away. He’d murdered the man in his dreams too many times to count. That was out of his hands now; all he could do was concentrate on helping JD heal.

/

/

/

/

JD rode hard. The wind blew into his face, nearly forcing his eyes closed. His horse’s hooves pounded into the ground, drumming vibrations through her body and into his. The great ribcage expanded beneath him, drawing in billows of air.

The steady rhythm matched his beating heart, giving cadence to the mantra in his head. I’m alive, I’m alive…

The tears streaming from his eyes blew away with the wind. They’d beaten his body and worse, nearly destroyed his spirit. But the spark that did remain ignited within him and he warmed himself at the fires of his heart. Hope rose in his chest, crowding out despair. He’d won.