Disclaimer: If you don’t know who owns them, go watch an episode! Jeesh!! If any of them want to sue me, they’re welcome to try. I’ve always wanted to watch someone trying to get blood out of a turnip!

Rated: PG

Characters: Chris and Vin

Synopsis: Vin tracks down an injured Chris, spurred on by a gut feeling.

Notes: Another story at Muse’s request to hurt the man in black. No real plot, just a dose of h/c with an air of mystery.

Feedback may be directed to LaraMee Deux. (psygeek@juno.com) Compliments will be framed, constructive criticism considered, and flames shared with my cybs and used for fodder for comedy night

Vin Tanner rode slowly along the top of the ravine, watching. He had been out since sunup and it was nearly dark now. He had been searching non-stop since a trip by Chris Larabee’s shack had revealed trouble. He had found the gunslinger’s black gelding, battered and bloodied, limping and ill-used, standing wearily outside the corral fence. A quick search of the little one room shack told the tracker that his friend was nowhere to be found. He had spent a precious half hour of time calling to the missing man, but heard no answer. Finally he pulled the saddle and tack from Pony’s back and led the worn out animal into the corral. Making certain the animal had food and water, he mounted his own black and began his search.

The hours had at once flown and crawled by. He picked up Pony’s trail, dotted with blood, and backtracked it. The horse had wandered for some time, leaving behind it a winding and ambling route. Tanner had little trouble following the tracks despite their meandering, and moved slowly through the countryside. Tension mounted as the day passed. He wanted nothing more than to kick his big black to a run, to cover as much ground as possible. Vin knew he didn’t dare risk it, though. As long as he remained as calm as he could be, watching the terrain with a practiced eye, he stood a good chance of finding his friend. To go too quickly could very well mean disaster.

He rode the ravine crest, watching for any signs of life below. He knew that in the deepening shadows of evening, the blond’s customary black clothing would make it nearly impossible to find him. Tanner could only hope that he found Larabee before night set in.

Then, suddenly, in the last vestiges of light, he caught a faint glimmer. He knew immediately that he had come to the end of his search. Chris Larabee was below, laying amongst the brambles and brush. One of his spurs, usually dulled with dust and dirt, glittered in the last light of the day. Vin shook his head, wondering if it was providence or plain dumb luck. It didn’t matter; he had found his friend.

Carefully choosing a sturdy tree nearby, the younger man tied off his rope and tossed the rest of it over the side of the ravine. The rope ended in a single loop at the bottom of the steep hill. Shaking his head at the coincidence, the tracker eased himself over the side, and repelled down the side. It was a few, long, moments until he made the bottom and Vin was immediately on the move. He crossed the space between them in three long strides, and knelt tentatively next to the man in black. Chris’ face was marred with bloody cuts and scrapes and melded into a grimace. His shirt was ripped and torn half off his body, the chest and arms beneath as brutalized as his face. Only his heavy black jeans and boots had withstood the assault, but they couldn’t protect him from everything. One leg was bent at an odd angle, loudly announcing the fact that it was broken. Likewise one battered arm was twisted and misshapen from the fall.

"Ah hell, Larabee, what’d y’ try an’ do this time?" Vin mumbled under his breath as he reached out to touch the battered body.

"H...horse...threw me...snake..." the words were barely audible, but Tanner could make them out.

Smiling tightly, he replied, "least Pony made it home. Reckon I wouldn’a known t’ come look for y’ yet if I hadn’t been passin’ by and found him waitin’ t’ be fed."

The shadow of a smile graced the pain-filled features and Chris managed to grate out, "good...he’s...o...okay."

"Reckon ain’t nothin’ wrong that can’t be taken care of when we get back." He looked up at the darkening sky. "Think we’re gonna have t’ stay out here t’night though, pard. Don’t think I can get y’ up on top til we get enough light to dodge th’ brush and such."

Chris started to answer, but settled on a short nod before slipping back into unconsciousness.

Watching him, Tanner sighed, wishing that he could tell more of what was going on inside the other man. He had set bones and mended torn flesh before, but with a fall like this there were bound to be injuries on the inside that he couldn’t read. If he were to do the wrong thing...move Chris in the wrong way, or touch the wrong place on the abused body, he could very well kill his best friend. Leaving him to seek help would be Chris’ death warrant. He couldn’t leave him alone. Tanner gently straightened out the long limbs, eliciting several tortured cries from the blond. He tried to ignore the sounds, but they tore at his heart. "Sorry pard. I know it’s gotta hurt like hell, but I need t’ get y’ outta this brush."

"Ssssss...okay," Chris bit out in a harsh whisper.

Sparing his friend a second quicksilver smile, the rangy tracker returned to his work. Slowly he straightened the blond and moved him from the tangle of brush. By the time he had finished, Larabee was unconscious. Vin left him where he lay and scrambled back up the ravine side. Going to Peso, he removed the horse’s saddle and collected the saddlebags and bedroll. Leaving the big black tied where he would be comfortable for the night, the tracker carried his gear back down the now shadow-shrouded ravine.

There at the bottom, Chris lay just as he had been left, only the shallow, ragged rise and fall of his chest gave Vin an indication that the man still lived. Releasing a trembling breath that betrayed how worried he was for his friend’s life, he set to work. Vin knelt beside his friend, emptying the contents of his saddle bags. He sorted through it all, separating what could be useful from what wasn’t. When he finished, those things that would be useful made a much smaller pile than what he couldn’t use.

"Been livin’ civilized to damn long," he grumbled to himself. "Packin’ like a city feller."

"Be...dress’n...like...Ez...ra...s-s-soon," Chris joked tiredly, his words slurring.

"Yeah, well if y’ catch me lookin’ like a damn redbird, y’ do me a favor an’ shoot me," Tanner retorted.

Larabee wanted to reply, but still found himself without the strength. Instead he slipped back into unconsciousness.

Beside him Vin took a deep breath, steeling himself for the ordeal to follow. As he tore his spare shirt into strips of cloth, he surveyed the nearby brush and selected several likely pieces for splints as well as gathering enough of the deadwood to make a fire. Once things were gathered up, the younger man firmly grasped Larabee’s booted foot in one hand, bracing the other above the break. "Chris, I don’t know if you can hear me cowboy, but hold on. I’m fixin’ t’ set your leg, then I’ll tend your arm. I’m gonna count t’ three then y’ just hold on, hear?" He counted, allowing the blond just enough time to prepare if he were conscious. As he reached three’, he firmly pulled the leg straight. The injured man cried out, but managed to remain still. As quickly as he dared, Tanner bound the leg using the chosen wood and torn cloth. Next he set Chris’ arm, talking to the man as he did. Once again, the gunslinger cried out, but didn’t move.

The broken limbs immobilized, Tanner next tended to the cuts and gashes along Larabee’s upper body. Cutting the shirt away, he looked the older man over for signs of other injuries. To his relief, there were no deep bruises or other signs that he had broken ribs or other injuries. Tanner still could not rule out internal injuries, but he felt more hopeful that the broken bones might be the worst. With water from his canteen, he bathed the cuts as best he could in the poor light, knowing that he would have to do a better job come daylight. Finishing his ministrations, He gently eased the still unconscious man into the bedroll. After that there was little he could do but sit next to the blond and tend his fever, watching the fire to keep it going. He wished fervently for once that he had not ridden out alone.

The night seemed darker than normal, despite the fire and the full moon that shone down on them. Vin chewed absently on a piece of jerky, his attention on Chris. Larabee had remained unaware of the passing time, not making a sound since Vin had bound his injuries. He was feverish, his breathing ragged and shallow. Tanner became more and more concerned that there was more to the man’s injuries than he could tell with his limited knowledge of healing.

The tracker reckoned that it was about midnight when his friend awoke.

"Viiiiin?"

"Hey pard," he replied, relieved that at least Chris was conscious once more. AHow y’ feelin’?"

"La...lousy..."

"Imagine so. It’ll be gettin’ light in a few hours, we’ll head up th’ hill then. You want somethin’ t’ drink?"

"Fl...ask," Larabee rasped out.

Lifting the battered silver container up, he helped the blond drink. Chris took a long draw on the fiery liquid, drinking until he gasped and coughed hard, eliciting a soft cry.

"Take it easy cowboy, just breathe." He held the blond carefully, watching intently for signs that he was bleeding. When Chris’ breathing calmed once more, he lowered the man to the blanket. Wide, fever-bright eyes shone in the moonlight, staring up at him. Tanner saw a hint of fear in the handsome, pain-filled face. "You’re gonna be okay Larabee," he promised. Chris said nothing, but a quick smile chased the fear from his eyes. He took a deeper, trembling breath and closed his eyes.

Vin watched his friend drift off, not satisfied for some time that the man was simply unconscious. Finally he relaxed, allowing his mind to drift for awhile. He found himself replaying the first time they had locked eyes. Looking across the dusty street in Four Corners, he had sensed immediately that the man in black was someone he could trust. They hadn’t always seen eye to eye over the weeks and months to follow. They had, however, managed to hold onto the friendship that had begun that fateful day.

The night wore on, Vin sparing a few precious ounces of water to dampen his kerchief so that he could bathe the other man’s face. Chris mumbled incoherently from time to time, but did not fully regain consciousness until just after dawn broke.

"Hey Cowboy," Vin said quietly as unfocused hazel eyes blinked open slowly.

"Mor...nin’," Larabee replied. "Where...are we?"

"Bottom of a ravine, >bout half a days ride from your place. Y’ said a snake spooked Pony and he threw y’."

"Oh...y-yeah..." The blond slowly began to recall the happenings that led him to this place.

"I’m gonna go see how much a th’ brush I can clear away, although you did pretty well clearin’ it on your way down," he winked. Then we’ll see >bout gettin’ y’ up th’ hill. You just rest for now, let me handle everythin’." He gently squeezed the man’s shoulder and set about making a path to the top of the ravine. Tanner worked quickly, removing the brush from the ravine wall. He made it to the top as quickly as he could, then bounded back down even quicker, the rope springing taut as it supported him. As soon as his feet touched the ground at the bottom of the ravine he fairly leapt across to where Chris lay. He was only marginally surprised to see the older man struggling to sit up.

"Hold on there, pard, you don’t need t’ be movin’. Told y’ I’d take care a everything." He slipped an arm around the blond, just as Chris collapsed against him. Tanner eased him back to the ground and offered him a drink from the canteen. Larabee took the water, sipping the tepid liquid carefully.

The tracker had spent the night planning the logistics of getting his friend out of the ravine and back to his cabin. They were closer to Chris’ place than town, and he knew that he would be lucky to get Larabee there before nightfall in the shape the man was in. Another couple of hours ride on horseback might be more than he could stand. As soon as he made certain that the gunslinger would be alright, he would ride hell-bent-for-leather to town and get Nathan. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to rest until the injured man was in the healer’s care.

"Larabee, you’ve gotta be th’ stubbornes’ cuss I’ve ever seen," he grumbled as the other man struggled to get up once again. "Now, I got a plan t’ get y’ up yonder. It don’t include you tryin’ t’ move on your own."

"Wanna go home," the blond mumbled as he struggled to right himself without the use of two limbs.

"That’s th’ plan cowboy, but it ain’t gonna happen if y’ don’t let me take care a things this time." He caught the slowly steadying hazel gaze and said, "gonna have t’ lean on me this once, pard."

Chris sighed and nodded. Silently he acquiesced, restraining himself to simply follow Vin’s instructions. He finally had to admit that the young man’s plan was far better than any he could have come up with, at least in his current state of mind. The tracker pulled him carefully the few feet to the rope, then they managed to secure the injured man to the hunter’s back. They did so in such a way that Chris could hold onto either Tanner or the rope with his good arm, and provide a third point of balance with his good leg. Slowly they began to pull themselves up the side of the steep ravine side. It took nearly an hour by Vin’s calculations, maybe more. Twice Chris’ strength gave out, sending them both crashing into the rubble-strewn wall. Tanner, fighting to push air back into his lungs, would have to stop for a few minutes. Then slowly they would begin their ascent once more.

Vin Tanner wasn’t certain when the last time was that he had seen anything as beautiful as the flat ground. They finally reached the top of the ravine. Collapsing, he managed to remove the bindings, formed from his bedroll, and release his friend. Chris slid from the narrow back with an exhausted groan. They lay together, the sound of the labored breathing of the other man ringing in their ears.

Finally recovering his strength, Tanner pushed himself to his feet. Checking to make certain that Chris was comfortable, he moved back down the rope and recovered the rest of their things. Once back beside the man in black, he fed Larabee as much Red-Eye as he could get him to take. He wished he had more to take away the pain, but it would have to do.

After readying Peso, Tanner moved quickly to the next order of business; getting Chris into the saddle. It almost proved their undoing as the two splints hindered them at every turn. Finally Vin mounted the big black himself, having steadying Chris against the animal’s side, and pulled Larabee up, eliciting several grunts of pain from the blond. While he wouldn’t allow it to show, Vin began to think his shoulders would come apart before he finally had Chris in the saddle. "Damn, Chris, y’ don’t look that heavy." Maneuvering the man to a more comfortable position, he slid down again, and took up the horse’s reins. While the man in black held on with his good hand, they started toward the little shack.

By late afternoon, both men and beast were aching to rest. That thought, though, brought a second. Could they get the injured gunslinger back in the saddle a second time?

"You know, you could leave me here, go into town for a wagon and help." As usual, the blond seemed to read his mind.

"Can’t say I’m partial to th’ idea a leavin’ y’ out here like this," Vin replied.

"I’ve got my gun, Tanner, I can take care of myself."

"Reckon so," Vin continued to put one foot in front of the other, trekking toward the blond’s home that still seemed so far away.

"You’re going to cripple yourself, Vin," Chris said a few minutes later. "Those boots weren’t made to carry you on foot all day."

"I’m fine. Don’t think a few blisters count as cripplin’ a man."

"You know what I’m saying."

"Yep. Y’ want me t’ leave y’ out here alone, busted up an’ unable t’ move more’n a few inches on your own. I may not be th’ smartest candle burnin’, Chris, but that’s abandonin’."

"It’s not abandoning me if you’re going for help, you stubborn fool," Larabee groused.

"Chris?"

"What?"

"Shut up," Tanner ended the argument tiredly. He knew that Chris was probably right. It would make sense to leave him tucked away under some tree then push Peso to get to town for help. But, if something did happen to his best friend, it would be his fault. Vin knew that he couldn’t live with that on his conscience.

"Tanner," Chris’ voice broke the silence an hour later.

"Yep."

"I need to…get down."

Turning, Vin felt heavy pangs of guilt. Chris’ normally tanned complexion was gray, and lines of pain stood out starkly.

"Shit Larabee, why’n’t y’ say somethin’ earlier?" he brought them to a stop. Carefully he pulled the blond out of the saddle and helped him ease to the ground under a nearby tree.

With a sigh, like air escaping a covered cook pot, the gunman melted against the rough wood. His eyes closed, but not before Vin saw the tears of pain glistening on their surface.

"Where’s it hurt pard?"

"Everywhere," Larabee whispered.

"Mostly your arm an’ leg? Your back? Gut?" Vin did the only thing he could to assess for internal injuries.

"Arm…leg…head," Chris listed his pain quietly.

Tanner felt himself relax then, and he smiled broadly at his friend. "Well, sounds like y’ might live after all then, cowboy."

Managing to push a smile past the pain, Chris said, "ain’t getting rid of me that easy pard."

With a little rest, Chris announced that if his companion was still dead set on getting him to his home, than he was ready to move on. They managed to find a tree stump this time, and with a bit of negotiation, they got Larabee from the stump to the saddle. Taking up the reins once more, Vin started once more toward the little shack.

Sunset was throwing long shadows across the hills as they reached Chris’ home. Vin announced that fact to his friend. Once more showing the pain, but not admitting to it, Chris allowed Vin to get him from the horse’s back right at the edge of his porch. Together they managed to get the gunslinger inside and to the narrow bed. Easing him to the mattress, the tracker said, "I’m gonna get th’ fire going in the cook stove. You got any more whiskey?" He had fed the blond the last of it on the trail.

"In the cupboard."

It took two hours before Vin was satisfied that Chris would be all right long enough for him to get Nathan. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he got Larabee’s attention. "Okay, I’ve got th’ fire goin’ good, y’ got everything I can think of right near th’ bed. I’ll be headin’ out for town. I’ll be quick’s I can, but it could be close t’ mornin by th’ time we get back."

"I’ll be fine Vin. You’re fretting worse than Nathan."

Chuckling, Tanner said, "sorry. It was just…"

"Just what?" Chris asked when it didn’t appear that the other man was going to continue.

Shaking his head, Vin said, "ah hell, nothin’. Reckon you’re right pard. I’m frettin’ too much." Tucking the blanket tighter around the other man, he nodded and added, "see y’ in a few hours."

Chris watched him limp out of the door, a look of puzzlement on his handsome face. Something was on the other man’s mind. He would question him more, later.

~~~VvVvVv~~~

The sun was only beginning to hint at an appearance when Vin returned with Nathan in tow. In the cabin, Chris heard the sound of hoof beats in his dreams. Half awake, he greeted his two friends with a cocked pistol.

"Whoa there pard," Vin said with a grin and raised hands. "it’s just me an’ Nathan."

Lowering the hammer, the groggy man said, "sorry."

~~~VvVvVv~~~

"How’s he doin’ Nathan?"

"Nothin’ some rest won’t cure."

"He ain’t busted up inside ‘r nothin’?"

"Nope, not that I can find anyway. We’ll keep an eye on him for a few days, he’s got some bruised ribs an’ might pass some blood if his kidneys are bruised. You did a real good job a splintin’ those breaks Vin," the bigger man paused, nodding toward the bucked of water Tanner had his feet in. "How are you doin’?"

Grinning shyly, the younger man said, "just some blisters. Man never died from sore feet I reckon."

Going to his pack, Jackson returned with some of his herbs, sprinkling them into the water. "Leave your feet in there til the water goes cold, it should help. I’m gonna head back t’ town for now if you two are gonna be all right. I’ll be back out this evenin’ and check on Chris. Y’all be all right or y’ want me t’ send Buck out?"

"Nah, we’ll be fine. Can y’ bring out some dinner? Y’ know Chris; all he’s got is beans ‘n whiskey out here."

With a deep laugh, the former slave said, "I’ll see what I can do," as he prepared to leave.

~~~VvVvVv~~~

Some time later Tanner padded into the house barefoot. Chris was sleeping, lulled by the healer’s herbs. The tracker was stirring a pot of beans when he heard sounds from the bed, announcing that the blond was waking.

"Hey cowboy, y’ hungry?"

"Yeah."

Tanner soon had Larabee propped up, holding a bowl for him so the gunman could manage one-handed. After he finished, Chris dropped the spoon into the empty bowl and leaned back to look at his friend. "Vin?"

"Yep."

"Thanks."

"No problem, pard."

Grinning, Chris said, "sure. That’s why you’re limping around here barefoot."

"Like I said b’fore, just sore feet. Anyway, you helped yourself, too."

"What do you mean?"

"Shinin’ up your spurs like y’ did. Reckon if it hadn’t been for them catchin’ th’ sun, I’d never a found y’."

"What are you talking about?"

"Your spurs, pard. If they’d been ‘s dirty ‘s y’ usually leave ‘m – "

"Vin, where are my boots?"

Searching around, the younger man brought the black boots over to his friend. "Right here."

Pointing to the heel, Chris said, "look at them Vin."

Looking at the spurs, Tanner saw that the rowels and brace were as ill-cared for as usual, the silver tarnished. Looking back at his friend, Vin’s mouth opened and closed, but no sound came forth. Looking back at the dulled metal he could only shake his head. "Cowboy, I swear those things were shinin’ like fresh-minted silver." With confusion on his finely etched face, he dropped the boots to the floor as if they had suddenly come to life.

Providence or plain dumb luck? Or was something else at work? Vin wasn’t certain, but he was thankful that something had been at work out there in the wilderness. He looked at his best friend, whose face mirrored his confusion. Neither man said anything for a very long time.

The End