Every New Dawn ~~ Continued....

The world outside the line shack was eerily quiet. The only sounds came from inside the small cabin. Chris Larabee lay helplessly caught in a dream world inhabited by demons of past foes and ghostly specters of lost loved ones. He could hear Sarah and Adam screaming his name and pleading for help. The heat of the flames scorched his skin and burned his lungs. No matter how hard or how fast he ran, the burning house seemed to get further away from him. Evil laughter erupted from the green bloated faces of enemies long dead.

The gunslinger's sweat soaked head tossed from side to side; his fists gripped the filthy mat and his chest heaved in pain. The fever that began hours ago now raged out of control. His body seemed to be shrinking inward, each tissue and cell crying out desperately for water. In a voice weak and tremulous, the blond searched for the one person even he knew could not respond.

"Vin..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The five peacekeepers downed a quick meal of biscuits and a hot mug of coffee as they prepared to resume the search in the new light of dawn. The night was reluctant to withdraw from the first glow of day and time weighed heavily on each man. Their grim eyes bore silent witness to the lack of sleep but determination dominated over the visages.

"J.D., your tracking skills good enough for you to pick up a trail?" Buck asked of their youngest.

"Should be pretty easy. Pony has a little notch in the shoe of his right foreleg. Vin showed me a few weeks back and we trailed Chris to...."

"The fishing hole where our nefarious friend was able to catch our Leader unaware. While Mr. Larabee was swimming with Billy, Vin misappropriated his usual black garb and replaced it with my finest apparel."

Even Buck laughed at the memory of the irate Larabee riding back into town wearing a frilly silk shirt and red pants. "Ez, I could understand the shirt but what the hell were you doing with red pants?"

"They were a gift from my dear Mother who has the taste of a brothel madam when it comes to choosing attire befitting her prodigy." At the puzzled looks this statement earned he attempted to clarify its meaning. "If Maude ever offers to help you choose a wardrobe, run and hide. Consider yourselves warned."

"Yeah and if you spot a bored, blue-eyed Texan with that little gleam in his eyes, you better find an excuse to leave town for a couple of days." Nathan joined in the lighthearted banter that was alleviating some of the tension.

"Brother Vin has a way of pulling off some pretty impressive practical jokes." Josiah smiled, thinking on the devilish smile that Tanner wore.

J.D. put voice to the question on everyone's mind. "Buck, do you think they're still alive?"

"I hope so Kid, I sure hope so."

Thirty minutes later found them back on the trail, each of them hoping to find their friends alive by the end of the day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vin was awakened by a kick to his bound feet. His side and back ached fiercely and the growling from his stomach was evidence that he hadn't eaten for many hours. It was his thirst that finally overcame his reluctance to speak.

"Wa...ter."

Miller turned from his task of changing the bandage on his left arm. He had no intention of turning his captive in alive. But he was damn well going get some pleasure first, before the real torture began. He'd been in a Mexican prison once and the memories of the questioning ordeal by the guards still remained. Revenge for this bullet wound was going to be sweet. Holding the canteen to the prisoner's mouth, he allowed a few swallows of the vital liquid. Then, grabbing a fist full of hair he began to pour water into his prisoner's mouth faster than it could be swallowed. Helpless to move his head, Vin began to choke and thrashed violently against the bindings that held him in place. Just as he was sure that his lungs would never feel blissful air again, the canteen was removed. He vomited violently, water shooting from his nose and mouth, leaving him weak and disoriented. Painful coughs wracked his lean frame and he struggled to draw precious air into his body. He heard his captor's laughter and knew the sadistic bastard would enjoy watching him suffer.

Remembering the events of last night, the Texan realized that he had to escape before nightfall. He didn't even know if Chris was still alive. The thought of his friend lying helpless, possibly bleeding to death was too much to bear. A sob of despair rose in his throat and he fought to control it. He shuddered as he felt himself lifted and slung like a piece of meat across a saddle. Fighting the darkness that threatened to envelope him as his nerve endings screamed in pain, he felt himself being tied to the horse by the waist. Hope flared into being as he realized that this could be the fatal mistake he was waiting for. While his hands were still bound, he could still maneuver them to search in the saddlebag for a weapon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dunne studied the ground before him, trying to remember all that Vin taught him.

"Listen J.D., you've got to be sure about this. If you're wrong and we go off in the wrong direction, it could cost Vin and Chris their lives." Despite the burden that the statement implied, the look on Buck's face was one of open concern for his young friend.

"I'm telling you the tracks are leading that way." The young sheriff's hand pointed ahead and to the right.

"Why would they take a different trail? Only route to Eden that I know of is this one." Wilmington couldn't allow their youngest to take the responsibility of a decision onto himself. That meant that he had to make the choice and it was eating away at him.

"Perhaps Mr. Tanner knew a shortcut through the hills. After all, Eden is a three day ride from Four Corners and his wire did estimate their arrival in two days." The Gambler offered. "Maybe we should separate and explore both routes."

"It's been at least twenty-four hours since the injury. One of 'ems hurt and we can't afford to split up. Whatever trail we take, we go together." Nathan was trying to hide his worry but he was certain that time was not a commodity that they could afford to waste.

"Then we follow the trail up into the hills and pray that we find them." The verdict made, Buck mounted his horse and moved forward.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vin could not believe his luck. His search of the saddlebag turned up an old knife. Not as sharp as he would have liked but he was slowly sawing through the bindings at his wrist. As the last strand broke, he almost cried out with the joy of it. He frantically rubbed the circulation back into his hands. This time the pain was a welcome friend. All he had to do now was wait until his captor chose to call a break.

He didn't have long to wait as fifteen minutes later they came to a small stream. Miller figured the horses needed the water and it was time to have a little fun with his bounty. Visions of the prisoner's young body caused the leering guard to itch. He rubbed his groin in eager anticipation. Easing the horses into the water, he reached over and cut the rope holding Tanner to the saddle. A light shove was all it took to send the smaller man tumbling helplessly into the stream.

Vin felt the shock of cold water and clung to the knife with desperation. Despite the suffering that engulfed him he had enough wits about him to keep his unbound hands hidden beneath the surface.

"Sorry about that but I like my piece of ass nice and clean." The leer that accompanied this statement sickened Vin.

"Yer a lot of talk, I laid with snakes that're cleaner..." Vin's battered brain fought to find ways to make the brute angry with him. He hated the thought but he needed to get real close to the enemy if he was going to win this battle.

"That so boy? You ain't never been with the likes of me," he warned, grabbing his crotch. "I'm hung like a horse, gonna split you wide open. You're going to beg me to shoot you."

"Yer kind is all talk," Vin hissed, tensing as the brute approached. "Ya couldn't get it up with a ladder."

The remark had its desired affect as Vin watched the rage suffuse Miller's face with a dangerous shade of red. With a raging howl, he saw the beefy guard bending over him. Praying the knife was sharp enough, the Texan gripped the knife and waited until the target was almost upon him before raising his hands out of the water. The force of the impact drove the weapon into the chest of the heavier man. It also sent Vin reeling backwards. With his feet still bound together he was unable to maintain his balance and his head slipped under the surface. Desperately his feet sought purchase so he could stand again. Just before he was able to accomplish this, he felt a hand grab his shirt and pull him down. The Tracker felt his lungs begging for oxygen, his brain was pleading for another breath. Seeing his last chance, Vin gathered his strength and savagely bit down on the arm wound he had inflicted just two days ago.

Suddenly released, the sharpshooter's head reached the surface and he greedily gulped the precious oxygen. Ruthlessly, Vin grabbed his weakened opponent's neck and thrust his head under the water. Miller's waning strength was no match for the desperate prisoner and minutes later, his struggles ceased. The body floated to the surface and Vin pulled the knife from the gruesome wound. It was a few awkward moments before he reached shallow water and could sit and saw at the ropes binding his feet.

Despite his own discomfort and the fatigue that dogged his steps, Vin willed his body up and moved towards the tethered horses. Searching the dead man's saddlebags, he found some stale biscuits and hardtack. It was not exactly appetizing fare, but he realized that his body needed the fuel. Grimly, he chewed at the tasteless food, his mind conjuring images of Chris lying wounded back at the cabin. He was a good one-day ride from the shack and despair surfaced as he acknowledged the fact that the blond could very well be dead by now. Swallowing his fear, the Texan mounted the stronger of the two horses and spurred it into a gallop.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The tracks left by the horses proved easy to follow and the searchers were able to close in on their quarry by late afternoon. Looking at the steep walls of the surrounding canyon, Buck voiced the thought on all their minds.

"Hate to admit it, but if I was planning an ambush this is a perfect spot."

J.D. continued to scan the ground, his meager tracking skills confused at the trail which had been marred by the hoof prints of at least two other horses. Bending low to examine the puzzle laid out before him, the youngster was the first to find evidence of human tracks. Circling behind a group of rocks he made the grim discovery.

"Buck, over here."

"What is it Kid?" The older man moved to examine the findings. He grimaced as his eyes recognized the telltale pool of dried blood. "Nate?"

The healer also recognized the brown stain soaked into the ground but did not mention the fear he felt at the amount of it.

Dunne was following another trail, having spotted small maroon stains in the surrounding area. He spotted the small cabin in the distance and quickly summoned the attention of his companions. "Hey, there's traces of blood on the ground. Looks like they lead to that shack."

The others looked at the object the young lawman pointed to and drew their guns.

"Nathan you're with me. The rest of you keep an eye out." Wilmington ordered.

The two men crept slowly towards their destination. While the shelter could be harboring the missing men, they were also wary of a trap. Buck stood to one side of the door as he reached out with his foot and kicked the feeble door open. Crouching with his gun ready to fire, his eyes swept the contents of the room. Sighting the lone occupant, his weapon dropped from his hands as he rushed to the side of his friend.

"Chris!" His shaking fingers pressed against the fever-slick neck, searching for a pulse. Eyes filled with grief he looked up at the Healer. "No pulse...I can't find a pulse. He's...dea..dead."

The tense silence was broken by the sound of the others piling into the small shelter. Nathan's sensitive fingers probed for a pulse while his keen eyes searched the chest of the injured man for movement.

A sigh of relief pushed past the soulful healer's lips, before he started barking orders. "He's alive but in bad shape. Buck, you get a fire started. J.D., get my medical bag. Ezra, you find me lots of water. I've got just what he needs in my herb sack for that fever. Josiah, I'm going to need your help with Chris"

As the men hurried to their tasks, Jackson began an examination of his patient. He was burning up with fever, his skin was scorching hot. He was clearly dehydrated from the dryness and poor turgor of his flesh. Seeing the blood soaking the left pant leg, Nathan turned his attention to that injury first. Removing the crimson stained dressing was difficult as the bottom layer was adhered to the skin.

"Josiah, grab a canteen. I got to soak this thing off."

The two men were able to remove the encrusted linen and the preacher moved to remove the pant leg and boot as Nathan examined the wound. The surrounding skin was swollen and red and a small amount of blood streaked pus oozed from the bullet hole.

"Damn, bullet's still in there. Broke the bone too." Seeing that a fire was now burning in the fireplace, the black man issued more orders. "Buck, get that water warming fast. I'm gonna need a couple of strong branches about three feet long. Then I want you to start ripping up any extra clothes we have to use as bandages. I got linen strips with me, but I'm gonna be needin' lots of changes.

Josiah accepted the cool water the gambler handed him and started bathing the fevered body. Pausing at Chris's mouth, he pressed the wet cloth onto the cracked, bleeding lips and managed to get the moisture inside as well.

"Is he going to make it Nate?" Wilmington's trembling voice revealed his fear.

"He's in real bad shape." the healer's voice was tense and his eyes riveted to his charge." Infection has set in and I got to get the bullet out and clean the wound. If he survives the night we have a chance at saving him. I'm going to need you and Josiah to help me. I'm going to need lots of light so find all the lanterns you can and get them lit."

Buck reached for a lantern by the door and he spotted the worried faces of Ezra and J.D. as they waited just inside the door of the cabin. Suddenly realizing that there was no sign of Vin, he determined that a search should begin.

"Is Chris going to be okay?" The kid's seemingly endless source of energy turned to worry and fear.

"I don't know." Buck replied. "Either of you spot any trace of Vin? His coat was covering Chris, he could be out there wounded."

"I discerned some footprints near the stream but no evidence of Mr. Tanner." Ezra couldn't disguise the worry in his voice. "Perhaps we could start searching the surrounding area while you attend to our fallen comrade."

"Thanks Ez. Just don't get busted up stumbling around in the dark. Nathan's got his hands full."

"Rest assured Mr. Wilmington, I shall endeavor to protect my derriere from any unpleasant encounters with abusive elements."

"Huh?"

"What he means J.D., is that he'll watch his ass." The sly rogue translated with a grin.

"I don't see anything special that needs protecting." Dunne punctuated his tease with a doubtful look at the suave southerner's backside.

Grabbing the youngster by the collar, Ezra turned towards the horses. "Let's depart before I change my mind."

Turning to stare at Chris's drained features, Buck made a silent plea to God. He was going to do everything in his power to see his oldest friend regain his health. With any luck they would also find Vin alive and well. In his heart he knew that Chris shared a deep bond with the younger man, a kinship that went far beyond anything they had once shared. The one man that could pull him back from the brink of death was out there somewhere. He prayed for all their sakes that they would find him alive. Taking a deep breath he stepped into the cabin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Throughout the ministrations of Nathan and Josiah, the sick man remained unconscious. His temperature was a little cooler with the cold water that was applied to his skin but it was imperative to remove the bullet. The healer debated about trying to wake Chris but opted to perform the surgery while he was still senseless. The instruments were cleaned in boiling water and two lanterns provided enough light to visualize the wound.

"Josiah, I want you to hold his legs." Jackson eyed Buck carefully before addressing him. "You grab a hold of his arms and chest. I'm not sure if he'll move but you boys make sure you're ready."

Satisfied at the nod of acceptance from the men, the skilled dark fingers began cleaning the pus and detritus from the ugly wound. Using a liberal amount of carbolic, he worked carefully. After a few minutes blood ran freely from the injury but there did not appear to be any more purulent drainage. Chris lay silent during the procedure, which worried but did not surprise Nathan. Picking up his probe, he checked to ensure that the patient was well restrained. He inserted the probe into the gory mass of torn flesh, wincing as he felt the tip grate on a ragged piece of broken bone.

To his astonishment, the patient moaned and his head thrashed about on the crude pillow that was fashioned from a jacket. Buck stroked the flushed face whispering words of comfort to the suffering man. As soon as Chris was settled, his oldest friend watched as the probe was advanced deeper into the vulnerable flesh. Relief swept through Jackson's body as he felt the instrument encounter the foreign metal of the bullet.

"Okay, found the slug. Hold him real good cause this is going to hurt."

Nathan carefully inserted a pair of forceps into the wound until it was over the bullet. Gripping the metal tightly, he drove the instrument forward. The jolt of agony awakened raw nerve endings in Larabee's body as he fought to escape the demons holding him down. Wilmington cringed at the pain they were causing his friend but was also rejoicing at the show of strength from the man. As the deadly missile was freed from the imprisoning flesh, a cry of raw torment was set loose from bloodless lips. Chris's strength was short lived and his limbs collapsed into the protecting arms that held him.

Buck's gentle hands wiped the pale face with a damp cloth and his fingers sought the reassuring pulse that beat rapidly under the heated skin.

"I'm going to pack the wound with lint soaked in carbolic. Then we have to set his leg."

The men maintained their positions although there was no further movement from the frail body. Even when Nathan pulled the bones of the femur back into alignment, only a shudder ran through the lean form. Soon the leg was encased in a crude splint and the weary medic sat back to wipe the sweat from his brow. The head injury was less work and Josiah was able to prepare a tea with healing herbs as Nathan and Buck set about cleaning and stitching the gouge.

"Nate, is he going to make it?" Despite the trembling in his voice, Wilmington's hands were sure and steady as he bathed the fevered brow with cold water.

"I don't know. If we can keep his fever down and get lots of fluids into him tonight he may survive the trip back to Four Corners."

Buck was shocked at the reply. "You ain't aiming to put him on a horse tomorrow? That'll kill him! Might as well put a bullet between his eyes now."

"We'll put him on a travois."

"That doesn't answer my question. What are you trying to do to him?"

Jackson bowed his head as he considered his answer. He was really hoping to put this discussion off until later but it was starting to look like he didn't have a choice.

"I'm trying to save his life. I don't have the equipment here that I'll need."

Josiah placed a reassuring hand on the black man's shoulder. "You're carrying a heavy burden, share it with us and lighten the load."

"I'm not sure I can save his leg. It may come down to cutting it off to save his life. If that happens, I want to be back in town."

"No, you can't...his leg...Jesus..." Buck raked a hand through his dark hair and watched the pale features below him on the bed. Chris Larabee was the strongest man he knew, if anybody could survive, it would be him.

"I'm sorry Buck. I'll do everything I can."

Looking into the soulful brown eyes, Wilmington could see tears mirrored in their depths. This man had saved each of their lives at some point and earned their trust.

"I know you will Nate."

The beat of hooves reverberated through the air. Wilmington bolted for the door and quickly identified the riders. "It's J.D. and Ez..."

"Did you find any..." Buck's voice died in his throat when he saw the morbid expression on J.D.'s face. He turned a fast glance at Ezra, who looked even worse. The two men climbed down and stood by their mounts, shaken to the core. "Oh God...Oh fuck..." Buck kicked the ground, realizing that the grim twin expressions meant only one thing. "Where is he?" his broken voice trembled.

"A few miles back, at the bottom of a steep hill..." Ezra frowned and shut his eyes, trying to erase the image of Vin Tanner's broken, lifeless body.

"You left him there?" Buck charged over, gripping the once colorful jacket, now dusty and mud covered. "What the hell is the matter with you. That's Vin Tanner! Jesus Christ, Ezra, you gave them scavengers Vin as a dinner feast."

"BUCK!" J.D. pushed his smaller body between the two, forcing Buck's deathgrip to loosen and grant Ezra oxygen. "We didn't have any choice..."

"You always got a choice!" Buck steamed, "The Kid might not know any better, but you should have. You heartless bastard!" he leveled the Southerner with one punch, before Josiah grabbed him.

"Cut it out, Buck," the eldest roared, "That ain't helpin' anything. J.D. what happened?"

"Well," J.D. knelt by Ezra and tapped his face, waiting for the green eyes to blink. "We saw him...a body...and got as close as we could. It's at the bottom of a ravine...all rocky and nothing for leverage. Ezra tried for a half hour to get to him, that's how he got hurt. I tried to talk sense into him but..."

"Hurt?" Buck asked, noticing the odd angle of Standish's shoulder.

"Knocked his shoulder out. My rope wasn't long enough." J.D.'s head bowed, his stomach twirling at the horrid sight he couldn't wash from his eyes. "Ezra undid the rope and tried to get to...to..." J.D. hauled Ezra up and felt his bile rising.

"A head wound, the face," Ezra said stoically grimacing and holding his arm, " was also damaged by the rocks it encountered on its way down. There wasn't much left..."

"Ez...only got halfway down...when he fell." J.D. suddenly felt very exhausted, and his face reflected that along with a new line of seasoning. "We lost the light...it's pitch black out there...I barely was able to get Ezra back...I'm sorry Buck..." He raised his face and stared at the anguished features of the man who'd become the older brother he always wanted. The last thing he ever wanted to see in that face was disappointment...in him. "Vin was my friend too. I wouldn't have left him if..."

"Yeah, I know, Kid," Buck hushed, moving to stand by Standish. "Come on, let's get Nate to look at your arm." He extended his hand and Ezra brushed by him, still angry at the insinuation.

"I only returned to seek Nathan's aid and get some supplies. I am returning to make camp near..." Ezra paused, fingering the fringes on Vin's jacket, which had been hanging near the door. "You won't sleep alone tonight my friend. It will be my honor to guard..." he shook his head and with a heavy sigh, headed inside.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The mood inside the little cabin was somber, each of the men filled with grief over the loss of the sharpshooter and consumed with worry over the state of Chris's health. Despite Nathan's loud arguments, Ezra insisted on returning to the site where the body lay in order to guard it against four-legged predators. His dislocated shoulder was immobilized in a sling and his ever-present flask would chase off the worst of the pain.

Buck insisted on accompanying the somber Standish back to the area where the corpse was discovered. They rode in tense silence, guilt flayed at him, but he couldn't find the words to mend the rift he created. The green-eyed gambler was engulfed in memories of the man who had become a friend, despite the diversity of their personalities. Arriving at the spot high up on the cliff where the body was initially discovered, both men dismounted. Wilmington removed the lantern dangling from his saddle and lit it. Mustering his courage he looked over the edge, the meager flame providing little illumination. Jagged rocks dotted the cliff and were a stark contrast to the almost pastoral scene below. Trees grew alongside the nearby stream lending a sense of peace to the countryside. Following the path of water, Buck's eyes came to rest on the prone figure, twisted limbs flung out like a cast aside ragdoll.

It was impossible to make out any features from this distance and height but it was evident that the body suffered numerous injuries. The one thing Buck was able to discern was the pale Tanner pants and the long hair covering the broken neck.

"Damn it! This just ain't right."

"I'm not sure anything will ever be right again Mr. Wilmington." Ezra turned his attention to his guns trying to ignore the look of grief and anguish on the other man's face.

Buck set about getting a fire started. He laid out a bedroll and collected enough firewood for the night. While he didn't like leaving Ezra here alone all night, he knew Chris needed him more.

"I'll be back in the morning." He assured the other, before remounting his horse and heading back to the line shack.

"Mr. Wilmington?"

Turning around in the saddle, Buck spotted the figure standing sentinel over his friend.

"Don't let anything happen to Chris."

Tipping his hat in a brief salute, the Ladies Man spurred his horse forward.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buck hovered over his deathly ill friend, talking to him in a soothing voice and cooling his burning flesh with cool water. For the most part, Larabee was deathly still but the steadfast figure noticed that the pale lips were moving slightly although no sound issued forth.

"Nate? I think he might be waking up a bit."

Grabbing a cup of herbal tea the healer moved to examine his patient. He was desperate to get some fluids into the dehydrated body.

"Speak to him Buck. Try to get him awake enough to take some of this tea."

"C'mon pard, wake up now." Gently the charmer cupped the sick man's face and leaned in close. "You can do it. Open up them pretty green eyes and glare at me."

With tremendous effort the eyelids parted slowly and the blond moaned with the awakening of pain. Josiah positioned himself behind Chris in order to elevate his head and facilitate drinking. The gunslinger took a small sip from the cup that was presented to him. The liquid was soothing to the gritty sandpaper that had taken up residence in his throat. His mouth worked at trying to produce a sound but it was several attempts before he could whisper the single syllable.

"V....in"

Wilmington shuddered when he recognized the barely audible word. Chris's usual bright emerald eyes were glazed and unfocused.

"It's Buck. Nathan is here and that's Josiah helping you to sit up. Take some more of this tea."

They were able to get some more tea into anxious patient, but he seemed to grow more agitated as he searched for the blue orbs of the Texan. With surprising strength, he fought the arms that held him.

Through a hazy storm of pain and searing flesh, the injured man squinted at the garish faces over him. His blurry vision made them distorted and strange. He blinked and searched for that which he could not see. Why wasn't Vin here? Chris fevered mind fought to remember where he was and what had happened. He knew something was horribly wrong. The feeling that he came to realize was his bond with the Texan was gone.

"Dead...Vi...n. My fault....dead...fuck... " He pounded his fist weakly against the mat and with that chilling statement, the blond turned his head towards the wall refusing to take further sustenance.

"Chris? Listen to me pard." Buck hated what he was about to do. "Vin ain't dead. He's waiting for you back in Four Corners."

"Promised he ...wouldn't hang. Let...let him down." Chris's weak voice cracked and his glazed eyes filled with anger. "...broke my word...his blood on...m...m..my hands..."

Gently grasping Larabee's chin, Wilmington directed Chris to look at him. "You were dreaming. Vin didn't hang. He's waiting for you back in town and you can't let him down. He needs you, we all need you."

The weakened man clung to the words like a lifeline and quieted under their spell. Obediently, he swallowed some more of the tea before his eyelids drooped and he succumbed to the velvet darkness again.

Self-loathing boiled to the surface and Buck stood up and smashed his fist against the nearest wall. "Damn it! I accused Ezra of being a coldhearted bastard. Maybe I should just look in the mirror!"

Josiah placed a calming hand on the trembling arm. "Brother, you can't blame yourself for all this. What if Vin isn't dead? Are you going to take hope away from Chris when he needs it the most?"

"What if he is dead? How am I going to tell that man that I lied?" A tear hovered dangerously in the dark blue eyes, the bearer brushed it away angrily.

"Well, Buck," Josiah sighed, "if Chris is strong enough to get riled up, I'd say you did your job. Don't you see? Chris needs that to pull through. Vin's his hope...alive or dead..." he paused and watched the play of emotions on the tall man's face. Then he cast a glance at the pale still figure in the bed, body glistening with sweat. The chest was barely rising now, "You got to be prepared, if gangrene sets in, we could lose him..."

"Don't say it Preacher. I ain't in the mood for one of your sermons. Chris ain't gonna die!" Wilmington spat the words in anger. Flinging himself free of contact he spun and strode angrily out the door.

Sanchez glanced at the pale motionless form of their leader before sending a silent plea for healing to the heavens.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The night proved to be a long torturous battle with the fever that gripped Chris in the throes of Hell. He alternated between delirious fits and periods of deathly stillness. Nathan managed to get some water and more tea into him during the times when he was more awake but the cries for Vin and his dead wife and son tore his soul. He would wish for the tortured soul to lapse into unconsciousness again only to find himself worrying at the deathlike quality of his limp body. Only Buck seemed to be able to soothe Larabee when he twisted and moaned in an effort to escape the agony engulfing his body. Calmly stroking his face with a wet cloth, the ladies man spoke soft reassuring words to his oldest friend. Chris would cease his struggles and turn trusting eyes to the safe haven in the familiar timbre of the voice. From Buck, he would take a little water and tea before once again losing the battle to remain awake. Dreading the long journey ahead, each man fought to get some sleep. However, the faint light of the fire revealed the haggard faces that still bore the grim determination they possessed to get their friend home safely.

Buck was resting with his back to the wall waiting for the next delirious episode. Nathan was examining his patient again and frowned at what he saw. Bad news was written on every line on his face.

"What is it Nate?" The other men in the room roused at the query that was issued.

"Don't like the look of this leg."

Wilmington hustled over to peer at the limb. The wound appeared red and angry but there was no evidence of pus. The healer then raised the lantern so that Buck could see the lower portion of the leg and his stomach lurched. The lower leg and foot were definitely paler in color.

"Could be gangrene settin' in. We don't have much time if it is." Nathan knew that Chris's chances of surviving were slim if that were the case. "We gotta leave for home now."

"Josiah, you make sure that travois is ready. J.D., start packing up." Buck was actually relieved at the thought of taking action instead of just sitting around. "I'll go help Ez with the body."

"Wait Buck, I can't spare you. You're the only one that can calm him. Moving him onto the travois is gonna hurt real bad."

J.D. stepped forward with an idea. "I'll stay behind to help Ezra. We'll meet you on the trail."

Wilmington surveyed his young friend startled to observe how he seemed to have aged overnight. He appreciated the offer and made his decision. "Okay Kid. But if I don't see that damn sissy hat of yours..."

"Buck cut it out." J.D. flushed at the emotive stare, "Just take care of Chris."

Reaching out to ruffle the youngster's hair, the older man chuckled at the look of indignation his action produced. He was proud of the man Dunne was becoming and took comfort in their friendship. No matter what happened in the days ahead, he was suddenly very glad that this young man had ventured to come to Four Corners. Fate was a quirky Lady. Now if only she would stay on their side for a few more days.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Despite his determination to stay awake all night, the combination of pain and weariness took its toll and Ezra found himself dozing off. He suddenly became aware of someone calling his name and shaking his uninjured shoulder. He jerked to full awareness and brought his gun up to aim at the intruder.

"Ezra, it's me...J.D. Don't shoot."

"Wha...what are you doing here?"

"Yeesh, just about getting my head blown off by you." Dunne's concern for the gambler quickly had turned to fear and he fought to control his rapid heartbeat.

"I'm sorry, I must have dozed off. Where's Buck?"

"Chris took a turn for the worse during the night and he headed back to town with the others. I came back to help you get the...get Vin's body back."

Ezra quickly remembered the reason he spent the night out in the wilderness and felt guilt wash through him for having fallen asleep. The remorse tripled when he peered over the edge of the cliff and was not able to see the form of his friend.

"J.D. get over here!"

The urgency in his friend's voice made the youngster move swiftly.

"Tell me my eyes are deceiving me." The gambler felt the panic growing.

"I don't see him Ez."

"God no, I've let him down again. How stupid could I be? I let my guard down and some godforsaken creature absconded with his remains." Standish sank to his knees and covered his face with his good hand. Guilt seized him with its fangs, the sharp talons piercing his soul.

Dunne looked at the stricken man with surprise. Ezra wasn't a man used to showing his emotions. It was a little amusing to note that the fancy words deserted him during times like these. He searched his mind for other possibilities.

"Wasn't the body real close to the stream?" At the affirmative nod, he continued to guess at the possibilities. "The current looks like it could be real strong. Could be the body got swept downstream."

"Let's check then." Shoving aside his inner turmoil, Ezra rose to his feet. A sudden bout of dizziness sent him reeling back to his knees.

"Whoa." The sheriff reached out an arm to grab the unsteady form. He was shocked by the trembling and the coldness he could feel right through the southerner's jacket. Searching through pockets he located the flask that Ezra kept handy. Uncapping it he offered it to the pale lips. The warmth from the liquor seeped into Ezra's bones and he welcomed the familiar comfort.

"You aren't going anywhere but back to the cabin." J.D. gathered up the nearby blanket and wrapped it around the shivering form.

"I made a promise to Mr. Tanner and I intend to keep it. Mr. Larabee is right not to trust me."

"You kept your promise. You stayed here all night with Vin. I think he would be really grateful to you."

" Truly?"

The Kid grimaced at the pale, tortured features. "Yup and he'd be downright pissed if you got sick because of it."

"He would just sit in Mr. Jackson's clinic and laugh at the sight of me having to drink what he referred to as 'horse piss'."

J.D. laughed at the memory of all the times the Texan cursed at Nathan's remedies. "He'd probably convince Nate that you needed a good double dosing of that stuff."

"That he would." A fond smile graced the gambler's face. It was replaced by a grimace of pain as he struggled to his feet.

"C'mon mount up and I'll take you back to the shack. While you rest I'll check the river."

Grudgingly the gambler gave in. He was feeling poorly and admitted to himself that he really didn't think he could ride further than the line shack anyhow.

The journey was made in silence and Ezra accepted the supporting arm of the younger man. Despite his perceived betrayal, Standish was asleep as soon as his body collapsed upon the mattress. Dunne covered him with a blanket and stoked a flame to life in the fireplace. He made sure that there was a canteen filled with water nearby before leaving once again to start his grim search.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vin rode like the hounds of Hell were nipping at his heels. Every time flames of agony tried to rip at his back or fatigue threatened to topple him from the horse, he pictured Chris's face begging him for help. As long as there was any chance that his friend could still be alive, the Texan would push himself beyond the boundaries of human endurance.

Finally, he spotted the worn gray cabin in the distance and he spurred the horse even faster. Even before he could see the smoke curling languidly above the shelter, he smelled the well-known aroma. Hope warred with dread, as he perceived that the shack could be occupied with friend or foe. As he neared, his eyes rejoiced at the familiar mare that belonged to Ezra Standish.

He dismounted rapidly, biting back the scream that threatened to break free as the movement sent shivers of pain flying down his spine. Carefully he approached the shack, mindful of the dangers that could be laying in wait. The lone occupant was a blanket- covered form lying on the thin mattress, the face indiscernible. Holding his breath in fear of what lay underneath, Vin grabbed a corner of the covering and gently peeled it away from the head.

"Ezra?"

The Texan felt his heart skip a beat as the revelation appeared. The dread that filled him started to melt as hope flared within his chest. The others must have come searching for them and found Chris. Did they find him alive or were they heading back to town with his body?

"Dammit, wake up!" Desperate for answers the sharpshooter began shaking the gambler's shoulder vehemently.

Bleary eyes opened and attempted to focus on the face of the rude beast that was trying to rouse him from his slumber. Long unruly hair surrounded the indistinguishable features. Seconds later the haze cleared and his brain finally recognized Vin Tanner.

Shock gave way to horror as a terrified scream erupted from the southerner's throat. Shuffling as far away from the apparition as he could, he started rambling "Good Lord, you've come back to torture me!" Pulling his injured arm free of the sling, he raised his arms as if to ward off a blow.

"What?" Vin screwed his exhausted face up. Genuinely confused, Tanner tried to draw some answers out of the delirious man. "Ezra, where's Chris? Is he alive?"

"Just like poor old Scrooge. I repent my sins." the guilt-ridden figure admonished, his eyes still glazed, "I shan't wear Marley's chains and boxes...no more cheating or swindling. I'll even give up the whiskey." Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved the flask and flung it away. He looked at Vin expectantly, certain that the vision would fade away.

"Ya finished? " Vin huffed, his last nerve fried. "Where the fuck is Chris?"

"What? You're the ghost. Can't you just pick and choose where you appear?"

His patience stretched beyond endurance, Tanner reached out and grabbed Ezra by the shoulders and began to shake him. "I ain't no fuckin' ghost and if ya don't tell me where the hell Chris is, yer gonna be the fuckin' corpse totin' Marley's damn chains!"

The look of alarm on Standish's face would have been comical in less dire circumstances. Ezra's puzzled eyes regarded the solid flesh grasping him on one side before turning and studying the other hand gripping his arm. With trepidation, he reached out a trembling finger and quickly poked the chest in front of him. Astonished that his digit encountered a warm solid barrier, he repeated the action. Vin watched with bemusement, unable to comprehend why Standish was so certain he was dead.

"Vin? You're still among the living?" The weight of the question staggered the conman, who gripped the smaller man's arm even tighter.

"That's what I've been tryin' ta tell ya." The Texan fought his way free and tried once again for the elusive answers. "Where's Chris?"

The gambler's grin faded as grim reality once again surfaced. "Buck and Nathan are taking him back to Four Corners. He's perilously ill."

"He's alive?"

"I pray that he is."

The Sharpshooter was puzzled by Ezra's presence in the shack. "Why aren't ya with 'em?"

"J.D. and I remained to retrieve your body before following our companions back to town." At the confused riddled look on the tracker's face the southerner continued his explanation. "We found a body but couldn't reach it. Mr. Larabee's was alone and injured. We presumed the corpse was you."

The Texan's pale face blanched at the thought of his friend. Alone and injured. The words reverberated through his skull. "I have to get to him Ez."

"They departed four hours ago. Take my horse and get going."

"What about you?" Concern accompanied the words as he looked pointedly at the empty sling.

"This is just a minor inconvenience." Vin leaned in close and aided Standish in his painful attempt to arrange his injured arm back into the restraining cloth. "Our esteemed sheriff will be returning to this little abode shortly. I assure you we will be hasten to bring up the rear."

Tanner grinned at the resurgence of the fancy words that signaled Ezra's return to composure. Turning to leave, Vin was stopped by the sound of softly spoken words.

"Welcome back my friend."

Favoring the gambler with one of his lopsided grins, he replied. "Thanks Ez."

Watching the figure disappear, Standish settled back into the mattress to await Dunne's return. He wasn't even aware of the satisfied grin plastered across his face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The group of men traveling back to Four Corners halted their progress under the shade of some Willow Cotton trees. The noonday sun was scorching, a red ball of fire sending flames to lick at their dry skin. The small stream nearby would help slake their thirsts and help to cool the fever raging within Chris's body.

Dipping a cloth into the refreshing water, Buck moved in to start wiping the sweat running in rivulets down the Blond's face. "How's he doing?"

Nathan's face betrayed his worry. Fresh blood stained the bandage around the wound. He didn't have to lift the bandage to know there was pus present. His nose detected the sour scent of the green excrement that he knew resided in the leg. At least he could tell it wasn't gangrene yet. That was a smell that he would never forget from his long years as a medic during the war. He wasn't sure that the bone was still in alignment, the jostling from the travois may have displaced the ragged ends. His stomach churned as he remembered the agonized cry of pain that issued from the sick man as they initially placed him on the conveyance. Moans and gasps punctuated the tense silence during the ride as they traveled over inevitable rocks and other small obstacles.

"He's real bad. I just don't know how much more his body can take."

"Jesus Nate, we're another a good day's ride from town. Is he going to make it?"

"I don't know, I'm doing the best I can!" Frustration drove Jackson to spit the words out with anger.

"Take it easy, both of you. Chris doesn't need to hear the two of you tearing each other apart."

Buck turned to look at the ashen features of his friend. "What do you need me to do Nathan?"

"You try to get some water into him. I'm going to clean out the wound."

The worried medicine man began the grim task of cleaning the festering wound. Once he was satisfied that all the pus was cleaned out, he repacked the injury with gauze soaked in carbolic. Throughout the painful procedure, Larabee lay insensate. His apprehension heightened as he noticed that the Blond wasn't responding to Wilmington's voice. His limbs lay flaccid and his eyes remained closed. Despair flooded through him as he recognized that their efforts to save the leader might be futile. If they couldn't get any fluid into the ill man, he didn't stand a chance of surviving the brutal journey.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The trio made the decision to resume their journey to Four Corners. The travois was attached to Josiah's horse and Nathan rode behind, his eyes trained on the frail figure of the sick man. He watched as each shallow breath barely inflated Chris's chest. He watched in trepidation, knowing that each new breath could be the last.

He jolted in surprise as Buck's cry broke the tense silence. "Rider coming up behind us."

They all turned to watch the single rider galloping hard in their direction.

"Could be Ezra or J.D.." Sanchez offered.

"There's only one of them and that could mean trouble." Wilmington's gut clenched as he dismounted and drew his weapon. Fear for his young friend flooded his body. He was only vaguely aware of the preacher joining him, weapon drawn and ready. Nathan stayed at Larabee's side, ready to defend the helpless man.

"Oh my God!" Josiah uttered in astonishment.

A huge grin lighting up his face, Buck lowered his gun and readied himself to greet the new arrival. "That ain't God, it's a Tanner!" With a whoop of pure joy, he ran to greet the American Lazarus.

Exhaustion and pain slammed into Vin and propelled him from the horse. It took him several seconds to realize who'd caught him. "Damn it...Buck...let go 'o me..." As he was released, the sharpshooter stumbled and would have fallen except for the steadying arms of Josiah and Nathan.

"You are a sight for sore eyes, Brother." Josiah supported the exhausted man.

"You hurt anywhere?" The strong brown hands gripped his shoulders and he ducked his head past the tall man. Tanner longed to see only one man and his beseeching eyes turned to the healer, the question plain to see.

"He's alive but it's bad." Nate answered the beguiling blue eyes.

The tracker sighed in relief and dogged Jackson's footsteps to the side of his best friend. He tried to hold back a gasp of alarm as he looked at the lifeless, fragile body of Chris Larabee. Dropping to his knees, he bit his lip as a knife-like pain jabbed his back. He reached out to brush a stray lock of sweaty hair off the torrid forehead.

"Damn Cowboy, I'm so sorry," he rasped. Interlacing his fingers with those of his friend, he raised their hands to rest against his cheek. He could feel the intense heat radiating from the fevered man. Tears sprang to his eyes, he could feel the life force ebbing from the body. "Don't go..."

Somewhere in the darkness that had taken over his mind, Chris heard the heartfelt plea. The voice belonged to the one he was searching for. He felt the flesh covering his hand, lending him the strength that was lacking. With newfound fortitude he fought to reach the bearer of the soul-fed medicine.

Nathan felt the pulse quicken and sensed the effort the Gunslinger was making. "Keep talking...Vin."

"C'mon Chris, ya ain't glared at me all day." Tightening his grip on the hand, he pleaded with the sick man. "Time fer some o'that special ditch water Nathan's got."

Eyelids parted and dull green eyes searched the distorted, blurry surroundings for the lifeline. They finally latched onto twin blue beacons and a hoarse whisper fought freedom from parched lips.

"V...in."

"It's me Chris , I'm here." The Texan grinned with relief, the expression mirrored on three other faces.

"I'll get a fire going. Looks like we need to get some of your 'ditch water' ready." Josiah laughed at the sour expression on Jackson's face as his healing herbs were once again insulted.

Buck passed a canteen of water to Vin before moving into position to support the wet blond head as he drank.

"Not...dead? Thought you were...dead. My ...f..fault."

" Yer sure as hell quick ta give up on a body. Ain't yer fault. Now drink before I have ta shoot ya."

Vin stayed by the Gunslinger's side as they managed to get some water and tea into him. Before long though, Chris's eyes began to slide shut as his reservoir of energy was depleted. Fearful blue eyes met lost brown ones over the pale figure below.

"Is he gonna make it?"

Jackson decided not to tell Vin about the amputation he feared was inevitable. The time to tell him would come soon enough and Chris needed him to be strong. "A couple of hours ago I didn't think he'd live through the night. He's fighting now thanks to you. It ain't much but it's more than we had before you came along."

"Let's git goin' then."

Nathan's observant eyes didn't miss the flash of agony in Vin's face, nor had he failed to notice signs of exhaustion. "Let me just take a quick look at you."

"Chris needs ya. I'm okay, jist a little headache." The Texan quickly mounted his horse before anyone could protest. Riding behind the travois so that Chris could see him if he woke up, Vin nudged forward.

"Damn fool." Nathan muttered as he climbed into the saddle and began the journey home again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Night was rapidly falling before the men halted to rest. Buck and Josiah set out to catch some game while Nathan gathered some wood to start a fire. Vin was gently wiping at Chris's fevered skin with a cool cloth as he ruminated on the miracle of finding his friend alive. It didn't take long for Nate to heat up some broth. He knelt beside the exhausted caregiver and saw a wistfullness in the red-rimmed blue eyes.

"Where you at, Vin?" He asked, lifting Chris's head. The blond's eyes were open and unfocused. He seemed to hear only Vin's voice.

"Go on and drink, Chris..." Vin said sharply, addressing the confused stare. The lips parted on instinct and Nate smiled again, getting the spoon inside.

He spoke in a soft soothing tone, reassuring the injured man of his presence. "I used t'do this fer my Ma when she took sick. I's jes' a little fella but there weren't no else ta do it. Ma used ta talk 'bout travelin' ta big cities she heard about. Before she died, she told me that she was goin' far away." Vin swallowed past the lump in his throat. "I's all curled up next ta her in bed and she told me all 'bout Heaven. "

Nathan's eyes were full of compassion as the Texan's wistful words reminded him of the painful loss of his own mother.

"I was real 'fraid and asked her not ta go." Vin continued "She told me she would always be with me. No matter if I went t'the four corners of earth, she would be at my side, an' I believed her. All them bad things happened t'me an' I tried t'remember she was with me."

Jackson nodded, remembering all the times he wished for the comforting touch of his mother's hand. "I know what you mean. What I wouldn't give to have just a few hours to talk to my Ma again. Just to tell her how much I miss her."

The sharpshooter looked into Jackson's face and saw his own pain mirrored in the dark eyes. "When I was all growed, I knew she just said them things t'make me feel better. One day I happened into Four Corners and I stayed put cause I figgered maybe this was the place she was talkin' 'bout. Then I seen ya and them drunks fixin' on hangin' ya. and next thing I know...I had me a family again. "

Nathan smiled as he thought about the day that this young man stepped forward to save his life. The gratitude he felt that day evolved into a deep bond he shared with these six men. Vin didn't open up and talk about his past very often and he felt a deepening kinship with the man.

"Your Ma must have been very special Vin." Standing, he gripped the Texan's shoulder before turning back to the fire to get some herbal tea.

"Ya know yer kin...yer a brother t'me Chris. I reckon this is what my Ma was talkin' bout." The ripping pain in his gut was real, as the frail body before him threatened to slip away...forever. "Please Chr..is, don't leave. I...don't want...t'be alone... again."

Vin freshened the cloth and continued his ministrations, reassured by the steady rise and fall of the blond's chest. Seeing Nathan approaching with a fresh mug of herbal tea, he scrubbed the evidence of tears away.

"I got to change this dressing. Figured we could try and get more tea in him." The healer paused to examine his patient before turning his attention to the wound.

"How's he doin' Nate?"

"He ain't changed in the five minutes since ya asked me last time, Vin." Nate said softly, catching the emotive stare, "Have some faith...he needs to feel your faith in him." He saw the shaggy head dip and the voice was much steadier as it addressed the lost soul. As Vin spoke, Nate went to work.

Working together they managed to change the dressing which elicited moans of pain from the flushed, wet face.

The cries of pain tore at Vin's soul and he questioned the healer. "Can't ya give him somethin' fer the pain?"

"He's too weak. It could kill him."

The restless tracker moved to reassure the patient "It's okay Chris. Nate's done."

"Hur...ts."

"I know Pard. Can ya take some of this tea?"

Chris drank a few sips before his stomach violently erupted, emptying its sparse contents. Hastily they turned him onto his side, the sharpshooter bearing most of the weight as he supported frail body. He bit back a moan as agony surged through his tortured back muscles.

Small breathless cries of torment issued from the blond as his own body was helpless against the onslaught of pain thrumming along every nerve.

"Put him on his back again."

Ignoring his body's own pleas for relief, he tenderly eased the sick man back. Grabbing a wet cloth he wiped the sweat covered features.

"Sarah?"

Vin looked to the healer, concern etched on his face. Were the specters of the past coming to claim the soul of their loved one?

"He's delirious with fever." Nate answered the question.

After a few moments Chris's eyes closed as he slipped back into a painless black void.

"We'll try some water when he wakes up again." Nathan clamped a reassuring hand on the Texan's shoulder before moving back towards the fire.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

continued........