Chapter 8

In the late afternoon of day five, the guards came unexpectedly through the gate into the cavern. Between them, they half supported, half dragged a man who was barely conscious. He had been beaten, much as J.D. remembered his own first ordeal. When the guards dumped him roughly in the middle of the open area, the young man noted the dusty black clothing he wore. The man groaned, but stubbornly tried to sit up, his reddish blonde hair falling into green eyes. He fell back, obviously too done in to move any more for a time. He clutched at the bloody shirt that was plastered to his side.

"Chris?" J.D. knelt beside him. The beating had been hard, but it was the bullet hole in his left shoulder, still wet with blood, that sapped his strength. He slumped over in a heap, breathing hard. "Herr Kruner....help me!" Together the two moved the newcomer into the chamber reserved for sleeping, away from the eyes of the guards. J.D. inspected his wound, finding that the bullet had cut a small deep hole, but the slug had not come out the back. The bullet remained inside.

"J.D.?" The man tried again to pick himself up. "Where are we? Who are these people?"

"You're in the same trap as me, I guess. Four men out on the trail got the drop on me. We're somewhere just west of Mexican Hat, probably. I haven't got a clue who they are. I haven't seen anybody except those four. I'll get this bullet out if you'll be real still."

"Nathan'll be here. He'll do it. He'll have to see to my arm anyway. I think the bastards might have broken it." He lay back down.

Werner came close, handing J.D. a cloth dipped in the precious water. "Erlaubt er Ihnen, die Wunde zu säubern?" (Will he allow you to clean the wound?)

"Hängt davon ab, wie Mittel er sein möchte." (Depends on how stubborn he wants to be.)

"What? What did you say?"

"Chris, this is Werner Kruner...the man I came looking for. He only speaks German and Spanish."

"But you don't speak either...do you?"

"Not much...not real good...but I used to speak a little German when I was growing up, and Werner's been teaching me. Look, the bullet's still inside. It needs to come out. Just be still." He reached for a flattened utensil that he had fashioned from a scrap of metal he found in the cave. The scrap had been sharp, so the edge of the tool was sharp as well. He washed it as well as he could in water from the bucket. He pulled Chris' shirt away and pressed hard to force open the wound enough to reach for the slug inside.

"God, J.D. No." The edge of the tool was sharp but ragged. It tore at Chris' senses as it tore deep into the wound. He struggled to break the hold that trapped him in suffering. "Let it alone. Nathan knows how to get to it. We'll just give them a few days to find us."

"You're in a dang mine. They ain't gonna find us easy. These bastards are gonna expect you to pound rock here, and I don't see how you're going to do it with a bullet in your shoulder."

"Let it alone." He pushed the boy's hands away . "Damn, J.D., leave it to you to get into a place like this!! How'd I get lucky enough to be the one to come find you? I looked everywhere. Met the boys two days ago at Poncho House. We split up to cover more territory. We're supposed to meet back at Mexican Hat today or tomorrow."

"That was the last place I stopped. Well, maybe it won't be too long before they find us then."

"Or wind up in here with us."

"Look, you gonna sit here and lose that arm waiting on Nathan, or are you gonna let me get that bullet out?"

"You don't know nothing about taking out a bullet...and I don't want to lose my arm to you digging around in there!"

"There you go again. Why do you think I don't know how to do this? Shoulder's not that hard. I helped Nathan take one out of you once before."

"When?"

"When Cooper Jones came after you last year. Nathan needed somebody to help, and I was the somebody who was there to do it. Well, I might have wanted to puke, but I did what he told me to. Now, you've either got me to do this, or you can let it get real good and infected real fast."

"It's gonna get infected anyway...you don't have nothing to clean it."

"Yeah? Well I do."

"Like what?"

"Fire ought to do it. Herr Werner." J.D. motioned to the man to hold Chris down. Werner was small, but tough enough, and Chris was weak enough, that there was quickly no way for the injured man to escape. "You want a stick to bite on?"

"Just finish the damn thing, J.D."

----------------

"Hell, J.D.! Haven't you found that damn thing yet."

The night was becoming Chris' hell and J.D.'s proving ground. As much as his own body rebelled at the pain he had taken and the fatigue that had settled in every bone, the determined young man remained with the task of finding the elusive slug in Chris' body. When at last the bullet was pulled free, J.D. quickly began to cauterize the hole with the same tool, now heated red hot over the small central fire. Even Chris had given up by then and lapsed into semi-consciousness. By the time the arm was braced as well, fever set in, but they weren't done yet. Kruner was the one who drew their attention back to the wound in the man's side. "Dieses ist ein falsches." (This is a bad one.)

"I know, Herr Kruner. I need to fix that...but there's nothing to stitch it with."

"Gut benötigen wir Süßwasser und Sie beide müssen etwas essen. Ich hole es." ( Well, we need fresh water and you both must eat something. I will bring it.) Kruner left to bring something for the men to share.

"Where's he going?"

"To bring water and food. Think you can eat?"

"No...not hungry."

"Well, maybe just a bite. We'll see."

"Don't push it, J.D." Chris closed his eyes, trying to let the pain in his shoulder ease before these two tried something new.

Kruner returned with two plates. How he had managed that, J.D. didn't ask. He also brought water, and that was the most important thing of all.

"Drink." Kruner insistently held out a cup to Chris, who took it without argument. "Now eat!" The English was rough, but the commands were crisply given.

"Don't think that's gonna work."

"Er ist ein störrisches, kein?" (He is a stubborn one, no?)

"Störrisch? OH-, ja!" (Stubborn? Oh, yes.) It was becoming a habit that they each spoke their own language, but understood each other well enough, as long as the comments were simple. This time, J.D. kept the reply just for his new friend. Then, he put a small amount of the beans and meat on a piece of the thick brown bread and held it out to his partner. "Eat it. Maybe you'll have better luck than I did the first time I tried."

"Do I want to know?"

"Not really."

"Jetzt mein Freund, versuchen wir, dieses zu regeln....yes." (Now, my friend, we will try to fix this....yes.) While Chris finished the small amount of food, Kruner and J.D. discussed how they would attempt to fix his bleeding side.

Hearing but not understanding anything of their conversation, other than the word 'fire,' Chris decided quickly that he didn't want any more. "J.D....Enough, okay...just leave it alone. It's just the old knife wound from Jericho. They tore it open again when they were working me over. It'll be okay."

"Won't be okay. It's the third, or is it the fourth, time it's been pulled open since you got back to town. Everybody keeps telling you it'll heal, but it's got Nathan worried. It needs stitching again, but we don't have anything to do that. I need to burn it to stop the bleeding."

"Just leave me alone! Look, I'm tired J.D. I just don't think that's anything I want done right now." The man was almost pleading, but J.D. was determined. Feeling the searing pain as the young man sealed the wound again was the last thing Chris remembered of the whole wretched day.

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Chapter 9

"Get up, you bum. You're not gonna gold brick while these other men do your work." The guard nudged Chris, who had spent a sleepless, fever-racked night on the cold hard floor. The nudge came a second time, none too gently with the pointed toe of a heavy boot. "Get up, now." The second keeper followed the nudge with a blow from a long, thick cane.

Memories of Jericho flooded the man's mind. Anger came unbidden as his reaction to the additional torment. "You son-of-a-bitch!!! Go to hell!" He came to his knees, always seeming to have just a little too much will to fight...to take on trouble.

"That's not the right answer." From the guard's hand, the same long leather strap they had all felt snaked out to make contact with Chris' body. It caught him full in the chest, then across the stomach, and on the backstroke it caught his side again. He doubled into himself as he let loose a strangled screech. Blood began to bubble slowly from the freshly retorn flesh.

"Leave him alone!!" J.D. stepped into the guard's line of sight.

"You gonna take it for him, boy? You ain't man enough to take what I'm gonna do to him."

"J.D., back off. Get out of there."

"He can't work...busted up too much by you sons-of-bitches...leave him be."

"J.D., stop it. Back off."

"Then you gonna take on his load? Every man in here's responsible for his share of ore...every day. He don't work, he don't get food or water. You gonna take on what he needs to do?"

"Yeah....I'll do it for him."

"No, J.D. Leave him alone. You want to fight...you fight me!" Chris came off the ground. He was instantly struck with the cane, knocked back to his knees.

"So you'll do it...you'll take on his part? Including this?" The man waved the strap at the younger. He drew back the belt and began another lesson in pain and humiliation that J.D. would find hard to forget.

When the brute was gone, and J.D. was finally able to will his body to move, he found Chris sitting beside him, managing to hold himself in an upright position by leaning heavily against one of the boulders. He was pale, but his hand rested against the base of the young man's throat, making certain his pulse remained steady. He noticed the slowly opening hazel eyes. "Kid, I told you to get out of there. Why'd you have to go and try to protect me? If anybody's gonna take a beating for some stupid thing I do, you let it be me." He held a cup of water to his lips.

Werner pressed the cloth to Chris' side, pressing hard one more time to stop the seeping blood. "It is not the first such that this one has taken, Ja." Kruner said as he moved to the opposite side of the boy, soaking the same cloth in more water, hoping to soothe the newly forming welts on his back. He eased J.D. onto his side, working to remove the now badly worn shirt.

"No, Herr Kruner. I'm okay." He tried as hard as Chris had done to rise from the floor.

"This is your good friend! Ja. He must know these things. He must see." As he finished removing the cloth, Chris cursed. "Damn, J.D. Damn, son, just what have they done to you?"

"It's okay, Chris. You've had worse."

"I don't know that I've had worse, and sure not today."

"I've seen the scars. You think nobody knows, but they're there. Your whole body's full of scars. Nathan said somebody cut you bad and more than once, and he says that long thin scar down your left shoulder blade's from a whip. He says there's lots of new marks and bruises from Jericho that ain't healing real good. If those bruises still show after more than a month, that must have been a hell of a beating. At least on me, so far, they haven't done any cutting. Don't know if I could hold up to that."

"Wasn't a whip, thank God. It was just my pa with a razor strop. Hit me so long and so hard, he finally ripped it open. Thought I was gonna die."

"Well, it sure didn't keep you from facing nothing hard."

"That and the cuttings were a long time ago, J.D. Don't know that I could hold up to either of those again. Don't make it, or me, more than it is. Look, try to sleep if you can. I'll keep watch so they don't come back for more."

"But they'll want ore dug before tonight. You can't do nothing with that arm and shoulder...that side."

"Then they'll just have to be disappointed. You can't do nothing about it either."

"Chris? How'd you wind up in here?"

"Just plain stupid."

"You?"

"Yeah...me...no other explanation. I can be almost as stupid as you at times...and I should know better."

"But why''d you head here."

"Girl in Mexican Hat said she thought you probably went this way. You sure weren't nowhere else. I just thought I'd come see."

"Where'd they get you?"

"Came to that plateau, I thought about either going on to Gooseneck or just going back to wait for the boys. You remember what Buck told you about not riding into a blind alley...about going around?"

"Yeah...thought about that just before I went into that last one."

"So did I. Did it stop you for going in?"

"No...."

"Didn't stop me either. Buck's got a real good sense of self-preservation you know. Wouldn't hurt either of us to listen to him now and then." He smiled just a little.

"But you're not gonna tell him that are you?"

"Hell, no! His hat don't fit now!"

"You know they're looking for a reason to beat us again. We've both been causing trouble. They open up that side of yours more...I don't think we can stop it from bleeding."

"My problem. My business. Let it go. Get some rest." He watched the man close his eyes, then he put his head against the hard rock surface and did the same.

---------------

They didn't rest long. The other men from the mining crew stood in the doorway to the chamber s scant hour later. The sun was shining brightly on the mine floor. The group in front of them resembled a pack of wild dogs ready for the kill. The one who stole blankets, whose name happened to be Cavanaugh, was the spokesman. "Get on your feet! You two ain't doing nothing but creating trouble for the rest of us. You get on your feet now and get this ore done. You ain't got long to get your part finished."

Werner moved between the small army and his friends. What he could do against so many, he did not know, but he could try.

"Get up...you two."

"Go to hell!"

"Dang, Chris...don't start none of that." J.D. was too bruised to think about going through more. "You start a fight, we'll just get beat again, by them, then by the guards. I can work if I have to."

"Not this time. You just be still. It's time we got to planning, not hurting." He spoke under his breath to J.D. and Werner. Then he clawed his way to his feet, swaying almost drunkenly with fatigue and pain. He starred at the ruffians before him. "I said Go to Hell. I'm not mining nothing for that bunch of low-lifes, not today and not ever, and, if you're smart, you won't either."

"Just how you gonna avoid it, mister? You got that boy beat once already."

"Any of you know how many of them there really is? I ain't seen but four. We'll just tell them no. I think they just might understand the concept. "

"And the next thing they bring in here will be shotguns. Won't none of us last too long then."

"Maybe. You boys ever thought about just getting the hell out of this little grave yard? How many graves they dug for people in here anyhow?"

The others became quiet. "Okay, who's been here longest?" The crew leader began to keep the count.

"Well," said the man with the cough, "I guess I'm the one who's been here most...that'd be about four-five months. Was two here when I got took, they're both dead. Then there was this little guy...looked sort of like your friend...he was stubborn...didn't do what he was told. They just beat him till there weren't nothing left. Finally broke him up so bad inside, he drowned in his own blood. Since I came in, must have lost five, maybe six."

"And you haven't tried nothing to get out?"

"Some of them did, Mister. They're the ones we've buried. We've got more sense."

"Ever tried anything together?"

"How?...There's one little ole opening....we can't rush em. We've got shovels, axes, and hammers, but they've got guns. First one out the door will get it full blast. When they come charging in here, we'll all die. All they want are backs...they can find plenty of those where they found us."

"Maybe they can...maybe they can't. Ain't there no other way out? Any of you boys ever check this place real good?"

"Mister, we just work. Figure somebody'll come break this place open one day and we'll get ourselves out. Til then, we just work and you do too....if you want to stay alive."

"I ain't willing to wait for no rescue party, and I'm not gonna be any man's mule. Come on Werner, J.D., let's see what else there is to this place." He helped his young partner to his feet and along with Kruner, they walked toward the small mob. He held himself tall in spite of his discomfort.

Chris was full of audacity, always would be. The look he used was close to, but meaner than, the one he had given J.D. in Four Corners, the same look he had used countless times to get himself out of possibly deadly confrontations. When he came face to face with the thief, he simply starred at the men until the line broke and let them through.

When they passed into the corridor beyond, J.D. let out a small laugh. "Dang, Chris. You sure had him buffaloed back there with that look of yours. Course, you scared me a good bit in Four Corners the other day, and I knew you were just playing around."

"Don't ever trust that somebody with a gun is playing around, J.D. That can get you killed."

"Well, you sure got that one back there."

"And sometimes pulling a stunt like the one I just pulled can get you killed, too. He's a big son-of-a-bitch. Bad as this side is, with my shoulder, he could have beat me into the dirt. He just wasn't as interested as I was in winning."

"You mean if I had gone after you the other day, been willing to fight you, you'd have backed off?"

"No. I was mad as hell, J.D....You couldn't have stopped me no matter how hard you tried. Couldn't you see that coming yourself? And you picked one real sore spot to jump on."

"Didn't think you'd get that mad!"

"Hell. When I'm in that kind of mood? You were being a real pain in my backside. But I still shouldn't have come at you like that though."

"Why? Nobody got hurt. It was all in fun, right?"

"It makes you look less a man. Makes me look like I deserve my bad reputation."

He stopped, resting his hand on his side, giving in for a moment to the continuing pain. He made himself take a slow breath, then straightened. "Werner, you've been here longer than us....you got any ideas about where another way out might be?"

J.D. had to translate, but the answer came back quickly. "He says when he first got here, he found an opening, but it was too high up for him to do anything about it. Come on, he'll show us."

It wasn't that high up...but enough that one man alone couldn't manage it. "What do you think, J.D.?"

"Tricks getting to that first ledge. If somebody gets there, they've got a pretty good path up to the top. Steep, but not impossible."

"Okay, you give me a foot up, and I'll see what I can do."

"Why are you going? I'll go."

"No. You stay here."

"Why?"

"You've just been beat, and I've had more experience with stuff like this..."

"So? You're hurt bad enough you can't make it up that high. You've only got one arm to use. I'm bruised, but I can do it."

"You're hurt too bad."

"Bruised....not shot, not a sprained arm, not a stubborn side."

"I don't think..."

"Hell, Chris! You're at it again....J.D. can't.....damn!"

"No....no....didn't mean that....I just don't...."

J.D. stopped and looked at him in rising anger. "You don't? You don't what? Dang, Chris. I ain't no KID."

"No...you're not....but by the time I was your age, I'd been stupid enough, and pig headed enough, to get more than a little banged up. Like to spare you a little of what I let myself in for."

"But I can't be a coward and hide behind you and the rest. We all have to pull our own load. If you all think I'm not able to pull my share, you just let yourselves get beat up more. It ain't fair to you, and it ain't fair to me. Now, shut up and tell me how we're gonna do this?"

"All right, then. Come on, I'll boost you up."

"You can't do that. That shoulder and arm won't hold up...you break that side open again, I don't think even burning it will make it hold."

"It'll hold. If it don't, I'll pay for it later. But if one of us don't get out of here, it ain't gonna matter a hell of a lot anyhow. Come on....let's get this done."

"You sure you want me to..."

"Yes, J.D. I don't want to be in this hell hole tomorrow. It's getting too much like Jericho, and nobody's thought of snakes yet. Climb."

J.D. stepped onto the offered hands Chris presented, trying to avoid holding to his damaged arm. He had to grab on anyway, then stand on both the man's shoulders to reach the small outcropping that provided access to the way out. He heard the man's indrawn gasp as one boot found the burned, gouged flesh. "Maybe I shouldn't do this..maybe wait a few...."

"Get on with it J.D.! Go!!!! Just get it done!! Can't you catch hold yet?"

"Almost got it." On the pull up, he slipped, kicking the man's shoulder again.

"Hell, J.D....."

"Got it." He was looking down from his perch. "Now what?"

"Climb. But when you get up there, you watch out. We don't know what's outside that opening. May be guards posted. You go slow and check the situation before you go popping your head up or you're liable to get the damn thing blown off."

"What are you and Werner going to do?"

"Go join the others. Maybe fake a little work to keep everybody quiet. Wait for you to bring help. Think of something....later."

"How long you think it'll take."

"Don't have a clue. The boys ought to be at Mexican Hat by now. It'll take a night and part of a day of hard walking to get there. If you need to wait until real dark night, we'll be okay til you get there and bring them back."

"How will you explain that I'm gone?"

"Think of something....but later, J.D. You get going. Tomorrow night, if at all possible, I'd like to eat something and in someplace well away from here."

"Okay...right..."

"J.D."

"Yeah?"

"Move as fast as you can, okay. I'm beginning to hate that son-of-a-bitch with the belt, but I don't need to be tempted to do nothing about him just now."

"Understood. I'll be back fast..."

"How?"

"Shoot....I'll just go steal back my horse!"

"Now that's a plan......but..."

"But, nothing....Shouldn't be that hard."

"All I was gonna say, knot head, is Watch Your Back."

The young man grinned and began to climb.

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Chapter 10

Chris meant exactly what he said about saying no. He returned to the main section, and holding to his bleeding shoulder and aching side, took a seat in one corner of the sleeping chamber. He closed his eyes, appearing to sleep, but inside he was thinking of his partner and trying to make a plan to get them all out of here. If he could get it done before J.D. got back with the boys, so much the better. He let himself remain still for a long time, needing the rest and solitude. The chamber was getting dark and the lanterns were being lit when he finally seemed to rally. " Werner, see if the boys out there would be up to a little town meeting just about now."

"What is?"

"Ah...sorry....bring those bastards here."

"Ja!!! Ja!!!" The man smiled and went to gather the others.

"Mister," Chris could see that Cavanaugh still had a burr up his backside. He didn't care. "Just where the hell is that little dwarf? I just don't want no part of any trouble you two are thinking of causing. All you and that kid have been since you got here is trouble." Chris grinned...so what else was new. If that s-o-b thought two of them were trouble, wait until he met the other five.

"He's at the bottom of the latrine." Chris said it low...not loosing the grin...just left it hanging like a half-crazy threat.

Cavanaugh swallowed before he got his courage back, "You're lying."

"Don't believe me? Go fish him out yourself."

"You're lying. You two were way to friendly..."

"Strange situation....strange friends. Boy got on my nerves once too often." He let the grin fade, turning it into a glare that bore into the man.

"I still say you're a lying son-of-a-bitch."

Chris let the glare turn into cold and intensely threatening. He let himself build a head of steam. He was tired and sore, he hadn't eaten much since he got there, and he was worried about J.D. He knew that none of that mattered in finishing his plan....what he had to do. He just released his words like the steam was about to blow... "You call me that one more time, and I'll make room for another one in that privy. Sit down and shut up." Not one man doubted that he would do it. He had their undivided attention.

"We're gonna make a plan and then you are gonna help me do it...and before tonight's up. The first one who messes with me, or refuses to do what he's told....let's just put it this way...you won't have to worry about them bringing in guns. First thing I want you to do is finish the day....go deliver the ore, get food and water. When that's done, you get back here so I can tell you what we're gonna do. You let anything slip to anyone outside...figure you're dead."

"Just how you gonna do that?" Cavanaugh had rediscovered his courage.

"Just like this." Chris was suddenly on his feet directly in the man's face. He hit the giant with an uppercut that rocked him backward. Then a thin, flat blade was against the man's neck, held in Chris' hand. No matter the pain from the shoulder, no matter the braced arm, the pain of his side. None of it was that bad. He had hurt before. His life, Werner's, J.D.'s might all depend on what he did next. He pulled the man back against his chest, digging the jagged edge of the tool into the man's throat. "This thing makes a real ragged cut...mean as hell feeling it cut into you...I know, I've been there....you want to try it?"

"No....no...please mister."

"Okay, then," he shoved the man away from him, "Go to work. We leave this place the minute I say."

-------------------

J.D. had made it to the top. Knowing it had taken longer than he had thought it would to make it, but knowing too that he was even more bruised than when he started the climb, he rested a few minutes before he inched his head up through the open shaft. He found himself at the very top of the plateau. He dropped back down quickly when he realized the late afternoon sun was shining almost directly on the opening...he could be seen. He decided the best course was to wait a short time, gather strength, and give the light a chance to fade a little before he made a move.

He thought even Chris Larabee would admit he had a good plan...rest a bit, then move. But while his body wanted to stop, his mind stayed busy, thinking about how he had gotten here and the men who were hunting to find him. He had thought the men were his friends, had really felt they were...but somehow he always thought they might feel they would be better off if he wasn't around. Most of them probably felt that way, but Chris Larabee? J.D. most often thought the gunman liked this group well enough, but with the possible exception of Vin, and Buck of course, if things hadn't worked to his liking on any given day, Chris could have simply ridden away without looking back. He might miss the rest of the bunch...but miss J.D. Dunne? The young gunman just hadn't much thought the man would even cared.

Now, he had to consider the real truth. Larabee cared...about them all...and maybe just a little too much. Hurt, tired, pestered to death by a young fool, Chris had devoted two full weeks to help him learn, no to make certain he learned. He had taken the complaints and the insults until it was just the last thing he could take. Then rather than punch him or scold him anymore, he had simply walked away.

Then when J.D. had left the job the judge gave him, taken a job meant for Chris, the man had ridden out alone to find him, and even left word for the others to come...all of them. He hadn't left a single one behind the protect the town. That could cost him if the judge found out. Why would he try to find him, if he didn't care? Why did he try to stop him from climbing out of the mine? Because he didn't want to see him hurt? Because he wanted to protect a little hothead? Maybe protect a hothead that was just a little too much like the man had once been himself?

Could a man who would call him out and humiliate him in front of the whole town really care about what happened to him? He shook his head, then smiled a little as he came to realize that the man probably could, and probably did, care.

Then his smile faded a little. What would that same man do while he waited for J.D. to come back? Would he be patient? No, not hardly... that wasn't part of his makeup. Would he try to do something alone? No, but Werner Kruner would be all the help he thought he needed for taking action. Would he pull something, even as hurt as he was? Probably... he always had a plan. No, not probably, Definitely. J.D. got to his feet and pushed himself out into the open air beyond. If he didn't finish his part of this job, and soon, already hurt; still bleeding; still his own stubborn, take-charge self, Chris Larabee just might get himself killed.

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Chapter 11

Once outside the opening, J.D. stopped to see exactly where he was. First, he noticed the road coming from Mexican Hat. Looking like a slowly twisting snake, it passed through the opening between the two plateaus. In another low pass cutting through the plateau floor, there was also open space that could allow him to ride around a moderate sized lake and then across open land to the town. He didn't have to go through the pass again.

One level down, he could see the access openings to the mine…one to the left for the prisoners to enter and never leave, a large kettle and oven stood nearby to provide the evening meals. The opening to the right was a short rail line to provide entrance for the trolley cars. Between the two entrances stood a wooden supply shack, on the same level, a level above the workers' camp. It was obvious that the cavern he had worked in was deeper inside the mountain, else the air shaft wouldn't have been so far up. The wooden shack reminded him of his introduction to a new world of pain and hardship.

A corral was below him and to the right, but the embankment of the plateau left no easy access. There were numerous horses. Maybe they kept the ones they stole from the men inside the mine. Maybe they were there just to pull the trolley. He could see his own Morgan from where he was; Chris' black stood nearby, but to get to either, he would have to travel down a central path, almost to the trolley door, then down again along the railings to the bottom of the work yard. From the corral, his choices were either turn to the right and go past the lake or go straight to pick up the pass between the plateaus. Toward the lake, the ground was open and visible. Once inside the pass, he would be hidden, but the four that trapped him before might be waiting there again.

He remained hidden among the scraggly brush on the top of the plateau for some time trying to decide what the best choice would be. He needed to move, and he needed to reach the others as fast as possible. The sky was beginning to lose the light he would need to see his way down.

He chose. Down, then south to the pass. If they didn't see him, he could make better time. He crept low and inched his way down the first path, waiting to be spotted and carried back inside the mine, or killed where he stood. As he began his move, he glanced toward the town. In the late afternoon light, he thought he made out a group of riders coming from the direction of Mexican Hat. He had a glimmer of hope, but that was all he would allow himself.

He approached the trolley doors, hoping for a quick release of the prisoners inside; but try as he could, he couldn't lift the heavy blockade across the opening. Giving up the effort, he headed toward the wooden shack, which offered better protection. He had made it to the shadows of the building when he heard the first movement. The four who started the whole mess came out of a building in the camp below and walked up the winding path to the prisoners' entrance. Preparations were being made for the evening meal. J.D. slipped inside the shed and stayed there the few minutes until he could no longer hear their voices. He slipped back out, taking along a few things he thought might come in handy for his escape.

His objective was the corral. He moved over to the trolley rails, walking cautiously to avoid sound, staying low among the surrounding boulders. He had made it to the fence when he heard some sort of commotion back on the level above. He looked up in surprise and alarm as he heard a bellow from one of the four, who disappeared suddenly into the mouth of the mine. The other three followed him inside, clubs wielded in their hands, shouts coming as they moved.

"Awh, hell, Chris….couldn't you have waited just a little longer to start something." Leave now, or see how to help the ones inside? He glanced to the east. The riders were still coming….maybe, just maybe. He wished for Vin's spy glass. As he watched, the riders just stopped…they almost appeared to run into one another. One moved to block the trail in front of the rest. The sun reflected the animal's white coat. It looked like a more than lively conversation had started among five riders in the middle of the road…or was it an argument? J.D. smiled and made his choice.

He moved to capture his horse. The Morgan had sensed a presence. His ears were forward, his finely shaped head turned toward the fence, his delicate nose testing the air. He turned to face the scent he recognized, nickering softly. J. D. crept forward and reached out a hand to silence him, to make him calm, taking a bridle from the fence. He eased it over the animal's nose and up over his ears. He was gathering the horse's mane in his hand, poised to swing onto its back, when he heard a louder yell. One man returned from the mine, and suddenly what seemed like an army of others burst from the buildings not far from where he stood and swarmed toward the openings above.

"Hell…Chris….it ain't just four anymore."

He couldn't leave…not now. One more might not make much difference, but one more added to the one inside just might. He decided again. He drew the Morgan close to him, tying a long rope around the silken neck. From the other materials he had gathered in the supply shed, he drew another length of rope and tied it to the horse's mane and another piece to his long silky tail. He made the adjustments he felt necessary, then, regretting what he was about to do to his mount, he scream and struck the horse a terrible blow with one of the branches lying on the ground. The noise and abuse sent the sensitive beast flying from the corral and away in the direction of the lake. J.D.'s last vision of him was a glimpse of flying hooves and streaming hair.

------------------

He blinked and dabbed at his bleeding nose as he stumbled back into the mine, pushed and prodded by the last man who had come out of the bunkhouse below and caught him at the corral. It was obvious that this time Chris' plan had failed miserably. Not a willing bunch to begin with, the miners, in complete agreement with Cavanaugh, were quickly distancing themselves from anything to do with Chris Larabee and Werner Kruner. They quickly left to find shelter in the sleeping chamber, out of reach of the guards, at least for now. Kruner had remained the sole ally, and already he had paid. He lay in a heap on the floor. His shirt was in tatters, his back a bruised and pulpy mess. Blood trickled down his face. J.D. thought he was breathing, but he wasn't sure.

But what drew his attention was Chris. He was shackled, face forward, to the metal cuffs on the wall. His face and exposed ribs showed blue, swollen patches from previous blows. J.D. wasn't sure how badly he had been hurt, but he heard the yell that tore from him as one of the men hit him with the long wooden cane. The blow connected solidly with the side, the man's legs finally refusing to hold him upright. The next one opened the shoulder a little more.

"No!!!" J.D. bolted to stop the punishment, only to be felled himself with a blow to the side of his head.

"J.D., no….don't…." Chris' voice was raspy from exertion. Blood oozed from his nose and mouth. "Why'd you come back? Back off. My problem."

"Turn him around." It was the one who had wielded the belt since day one, but even through half-closed eyes, Chris knew the belt had been exchanged for a whip this time. He struggled to get free, but it was of absolutely no use.

"You son-of-a-bitch….." J.D. yanked at those who held him. One fist yanked loose and the boy delivered a blow to his captor.

"Seems like you'd learn to let him take his own medicine. But if you're stupid enough to want it…I'll give it to you, too. We'll just do him next, boys."

Strong men janked Chris from the manacles, holding him between them as another clamped the cuffs around J.D.'s wrists, then tore his shirt to expose his unmarked skin.

"You do this to him….I'll come back and I'll kill you all." Chris knew he had kept his word at Jericho, and he would keep it now. His captors understood well that the older one would do exactly what he said…if they let him live. But they didn't mean to let either of them live. The two of them, whether individually or together, were nothing but trouble.

The brute enjoyed beating the smaller one…using the cane to wreak havoc on young muscles. Then the whip sang as it whistled through the air on its way to mark the boy's body. Chris fought wildly, trying to force himself free. J.D.'s cries were almost more than he could stand. The second blow produced a bright red streak of blood down J.D.'s left shoulder blade, and the boy went completely limp.

"Not as strong as he thought he was. Was he mister? Didn't save you a whole lot, or for long, now did he. Your turn."

They pulled J.D. free, shoving his still form to the ground. Then they placed the struggling Chris in the manacles face against the rough wall. But this time, his back too was bared, the black shirt ripped from his body. He drew in as much of a ragged breath as he could manage, but he couldn't stop the fear and the trembling that seized him. He remembered the first time. He knew how it would feel. Once again the whip whistled and then it bit. He didn't try to be silent, he just screamed. His body writhed as the whip whistled and bit again, and once again.

But it didn't whistle any more.

An explosion flung the trolley doors clear of their hinges, and five men who looked as if they brought all of hell with them walked much too calmly into the cavern and opened fire. The odds were three to one against the five who walked in. That was nothing. The odds were five to none for them when they were through.

Magnificent 7 - #3 - Proving Ground (5/5)

Open: 6/6/00 Last Update: 7/2/00

Type: R - Violence

Character: The cast of Magnificent Seven, featuring Chris Larabee and J.D. Dunne.

Disclaimer: The characters in this work of fiction are based on the work of Mirisch, MGM, and Trilogy Productions, from The Magnificent Seven. The work is not intended for sale or commercial production. The story is the work and property of Anne Tolar.

Comments are welcome at: atolar@telepak.net.

With apologies to anyone who speaks German....I hope the translations are correct, and marginally grammatical...sometimes you just have to hope something's right.

With thanks to Lee for great suggestions, editing, and beta support.

Chapter 12

The men inside the mine, the ones who were still able to move, had gotten what they wanted. Free, they unceremoniously dumped the dead bodies at the rear of the mine, then gathered horses and swiftly made their escape. Only one stopped to offer any thanks for their rescue, and it wasn't Cavanaugh.

Three other men soon lay on bunks layered with soft blankets, in the bunkhouse where their captors had rested just before they died. Kruner was awake, but barely. At least he had no cuts to deal with, just a head and back that would hurt for days. Nathan's laudanum was beginning to help. As the first eased, the healer moved to help their leader.

"J.D. first, Nathan. I'm fine." The man spoke in spite of his fatigue, awake only because of pain, concern for his friend, and pure stubborn will.

"Sure you are...just like he said...you're both real fine. Swear if he gets any more like you, I'm gonna just..." He pushed a cloth loaded with whiskey down onto Chris' back, taking little satisfaction in hearing his sharply indrawn breath. "How many times you get hit this time?"

"Don't know....lost count. Not so bad this time though. J.D.?"

"Yeah?" the boy whispered. He hadn't screamed when Vin poured whiskey on his back either, but that didn't mean he didn't want to.

"Thought I told you to let me handle my own problems. You okay, son?"

"Yeah."

"Like hell he is. Okay, Chris, I want you to drink all of this."

"What's that?"

"Cheap rot gut whiskey."

"Thank God. J.D. first....I'm fine."

Rather than argue will the man, Nathan coaxed the first of the liquid down J.D.'s throat, following the firey draft with a cup of water...satisfied that the boy drank it easily. "Okay, Chris. J.D.'s been first...he's had his, now you drink all of this." The healer was pleased to hear no argument this time, and to see that his friend drank freely from the water he was offered. He was even more relieved as he saw them both fall into a deep, though drug-induced, sleep.

None of the three injured men remembered anything of the next two days, bundled into the back of wagons on all the available blankets, settled into oblivion by the whiskey which was liberally laced with Nathan's small supply of laudanum. He replenished his pouch on their way past Poncho House.

He allowed Kruner to wake first, battered and bruised, but uncut. The man was startled to find himself alive and again among men who knew nothing of what he said. "Haben meine Freunde ganz Recht? Wohin gehen wir?" (Will my friends be all right? Where are we going?)

Josiah became his companion for the duration. Mostly the preacher man did a great deal of smiling. "You boys reckon Chris could talk to him? He seems to know them pretty well."

"Tut jedermann sprechen Deutsch?" (Does anyone speak German?)

"Naw. I don't think Chris speaks American more than a few words at a time. Whatever this fellas saying...it sure ain't in American."

"I think it must be Dutch, Vin. I think he keeps saying something about Dutch."

"Sprechen irgendwelche von Ihnen Herren Spanischen?" (Do any of you gentlemen speak Spanish?)

Vin tried..."Maybe it's Spanish, Josiah. But dang, it don't sound like any Mexican I've ever come across."

"Gentlemen, I propose a small wager. Three to one it's Dutch. Four to one it's Spanish. Ten to one our Mr. Larabee can actually speak it."

"Shut up, Ezra."

"Mr. Tanner, it is a most auspicious wager. Not demeaning to anyone in any way, and a chance to while away the tedious hours of transport in a more social manner."

"Ezra...." Josiah smiled at him.

"Yes, Mr. Sanchez? A wager, perhaps?"

"No....Shut up."

They rode slowly on. The stops were frequent, encouraging the injured ones to rest, changing bandages, restitching skin that broke and bled. Chris woke briefly while his side was being redone, but with the 'water' Nathan got him to drink, he wasn't awake for long.

He slept through to the next day...not as damaged as Nathan feared, but still too weak to offer much resistance to the others. He rejected the 'water' the following morning, recognizing what was in it. "Come on, Nathan, no more...I need to be able to think."

Nathan refused to stop the boy's laudanum. "You're just too used to taking stuff like this and trying to move anyway. J.D. ain't never been though anything like this that I know of and he's just done in. Chris...you let him rest, now, and you just rest too. Jericho wasn't that long ago, and we're bouncing you around pretty good trying to get you home. You just settle back and try to get some sleep. I can give you more of this stuff whenever it gets too much. You lost a lot of blood, and that side of yours is about as blue as the ears on a blue tick hound."

"Now that was a good one....Doc. Got any more?" Buck rode close to the wagon, ready to stop any foolish hothead who tried to stir too soon. "How's it going there, Stud?"

"I can ride now, Buck. Look, Nathan, I'm fine. Anybody find my black?"

"We got him. You ain't getting on him. Not anytime soon. Just be still, now."

"Come on, Nathan! I'm really doing fine."

"Herr Chris! Mein Freund, bin ich, also glücklich zu sehen sind Sie besser." (Chris, my friend, I am so happy to see you are better.)

"Well, if you're so all fire fine...what's this fella saying?"

"How the hell should I know?"

"You got any idea even what words it is he's speaking? Josiah says Dutch, I'm guessing Spanish."

"J.D. said it was German."

"J.D.? How'd he know?"

"He was carrying on in it right along. That man helped him find the way out. Kept us both from being beat a couple of different times, took a pretty bad beating himself, and showed us the way out. His name's Werner Kruner....he's J.D.'s missing man."

"Pard, you telling me the little rooster actually found what he was looking for?"

"Yeah, he did, Vin. He can tell you all about it later. Nathan, come on, let me out of this thing. I'm fine."

"I hear you, you're just fine. Do you even know what fine is anymore? You just stay in the wagon til we get back to Four Corners...then I'm gonna check everything out real good all over again."

"Damn." But as soon as he would let his eyes close, he slept.

----------

Chapter 13

When J.D. finally woke from the drugs...on his stomach on the soft bed in Nathan's room...the first thing he noticed was that Chris was asleep in the chair next to his bed.

"Does it ever stop hurting so dang much?"

"Eventually," Chris roused and blinked tired eyes. He stood up stiffly, but only allowed a small groan to escape. He offered J.D. something cool to drink, then reached for a small jar and rubbed salve along his friend's left shoulder blade and into the bruises as well. "You'll get past the worst in a few days. This one ain't too deep. Best thing you can do is ignore it...just pretend it don't exist."

"Not easy to do."

"No, not easy. Don't make a habit of none of this. Taking it sure don't ever get any easier, and you damn sure won't ever get used to it."

"You talking from experience?"

"Yeah..too damn much experience."

"Anything make it better?"

"No, not really...but tell you what might help us ignore it for a while. You ready to move just a little? If you can, we'll go get a little fresh air and exercise. You need to move soon as you can, as much as you can. Even Nathan can't fault us for that."

"You sure? Nathan said not to move around too much."

"Yeah. Be stiff as a board if you listen to him. I was thinking this morning that a little Rye whiskey might help things look a little better, make it easier to move things around a bit...for you and for me."

"Nathan said no whiskey. Does beer count?" He was more than interested.

"Shoot. You gonna listen to him or do what I say? What do you think he's been shoveling down your throat? Laudanum's nothing but opium and whiskey. You've had a snoot full of both. If you hadn't been sleeping, you'd most likely have been singing."

"You reckon we just might try?" J.D. pushed against the mattress. Chris braced him and helped him make it to his feet. "You seen my pants anywhere?"

"No...couldn't find mine anywhere. Nathan thinks keeping our pants is gonna let him control what we do. Shoot, not hardly! I just pulled on my drawers early this morning and went and got a pair for myself." He was still too sore, paying for the antic, but he was very pleased to have pulled it off. He grinned one of his better grins at the younger man. "I thought to bring along another pair of my britches for you....rolled up the legs a might so you wouldn't hit the floor. We'll go hunting for yours after we get us some whiskey."

"Thanks." J.D. pulled them on, surprised to find how small the pants were. "Dang things are just a might tight.."

Chris grinned, "You think so, Stud?" He watched the young man blush furiously. He was glad he hadn't made a different, much cockier, retort. He didn't want to risk damaging the boy's pride any more just now. "Brought you a new shirt, too. Yours got a little torn up on account of me." He eased the younger man into the cloth. J.D. found it uncomfortable but bearable. "You ready?"

"Sounds like a great idea to me."

Managing the stairs down from Nathan's room to the street was the tricky part. Moving across the street to the saloon, they both looked absolutely pitiful. "Chris, you sure you're up to this. You don't look so good."

"I'm fine. Don't worry about people looking. They'll just think you're helping me, and they suspect I'm drunk most of the time anyway. Hell. I AM fine. Nathan's just got my side stitched so damn tight, it's all I can do to stand up straight."

"How many stitches he finally put in it?"

"I don't have a clue....lost count somewhere around fifty."

"You get him back?"

"Not this time...I think I've had enough of his attention for awhile....I don't wanna start nothing new. If I do, Nathan's liable to retaliate with something real mean." He paused as they approached swinging doors. "Look, J.D., don't go making a lot of noise when we get in here, not til we see who's around...you just might get Nathan all riled up."

The saloon was the no-name one closer to the center of the little town. The one they both knew well...where all the others were bound to be. When they arrived, they eased to the bar. Chris said no word, just motioned to the barkeep to bring two. The man didn't have to ask what two. As pale as the two men before him were, and the identity of the taller one, the glasses were filled to the brim with good stout Rye. They had managed to knock back the first, before Nathan noticed them both.

"YOU'D THINK THE TWO OF YOU WAS LESS THAN FIVE YEARS OLD!!! THIS AIN'T A GAME. YOU KEEP THIS UP, I'M LIKELY TO FIND A LIMBER LITTLE TREE LIMB AND JUST TAN THE BOTH OF YOU!!!! THEN I'M GONNA FIND SOMETHING REAL NASTY AND SHOVE IT DOWN YOUR THROATS!!"

"Whoa! J.D. first, Nathan. You've done enough to me already. I'm fine."

J.D. glared at him, "Coward."

"Sure you are...just like he said...he's just fine too. Swear if he gets any more like you, I'm gonna just..." Nathan ground his hand into Chris' shoulder, then into his back, taking little satisfaction in hearing his sharply indrawn breath. "You just got yourself beat up again. Now, you won't stay down...up before dawn walking all over town. I heard about it, so don't you deny it."

"Just went to get my pants, Nathan."

"Then you come dragging yourself and J.D. over here. Look at this. Your shoulder's bleeding, and that side's open again.

"Damn...hadn't noticed that."

"You're just too used to trying to ignore any damage you take. Just exactly how much did you get hit this time?"

"Wasn't that bad, thanks to J.D. Shoot...I need to be doing something. Don't like being tied down."

I don't think you're ever gonna learn. If you'd just stay down for a day or two, you could get up a whole lot sooner. Sit down over here. J.D., you too." In the middle of the saloon, he ripped the packing from Chris' shoulder, drew a thin knife from his pouch, and began to probe the wound.

The patient hissed at his handling of the wound.

"J.D.? How many?"

"How many what?" the boy contemplated his glass. He hadn't screamed on the ride home when Vin poured whiskey on his back, but that didn't mean he wanted to try something like that again. Chris obviously wanted to yell now. J.D. didn't think his own back had eased enough for him to risk sitting as close as Chris was to the doc. "Anybody seen Herr Kruner?

"Herr Kruner?"

"Herr......yeah....Mr.....Mr. Kruner."

Ezra brightened. "All right, gentlemen, one last change to place bets on our wager.... Let's see...the book is open for three to one it's Dutch. Four to one it's Spanish. Ten to one Larabee can actually speak it.....but since he has already proven that he has no possible clue...I intend to retire that wager from the table. Takers? What's your pleasure?"

There were none. J.D. reached out and appropriated the small stack of bills from Ezra's hand...."Neither. It's German. I win."

"Now, just a minute...."

"Ezra," Vin gave him a sharp jab on the shoulder, "Shut up."

Chris sipped another Rye, "I told you boys that J.D. said it was German. You should have trusted him, played the bet and cleaned Ezra out."

"Beside those cuts, he sure came up with a whole lot of bruises. How'd you let him get so hurt?" Nathan pounced on his nerves again.

"Me? Let him? I didn't do nothing."

"Sure looks like a whole lot of nothing. Boy's back's worse than yours. You got a couple more cuts, maybe, but he's just plain burned from being hit so much. You ought to have looked after him better than that."

"Hell. J.D. made his own plans. I told him more than once to let me handle my own problems. He nearly got himself killed being my hero. Not that I'm not more than grateful now."

He sipped the Rye, noticing how pale the younger one seemed to be. "We could go back for awhile if you need to J.D.. You hurting too much?" He said it, but he hoped he didn't have to do it.

"Nah, Chris...not too bad. Want another Rye?"

"Pour it."

"You'd think a man as old as you would be able to control himself better than this...and wouldn't go setting a bad example for this kid."

"Nathan, I ain't no KID! I AIN'T NO BOY!!"

"Easy, J.D. Don't go bustin' a gut...Nathan's just not in control any more and it makes him just a might ornery." Chris jerked as the man found the deepest part of the wound. "Damn."

"Wouldn't be near so ornery if you'd just rest a bit, least let yourself heal proper. Hate doing all this stuff over and over because of some old fool like you. I think I might just give you a new lesson in a little bit...help you understand."

"Nathan, you call me 'old' again, we're gonna have a serious conversation. And, I ain't no fool either!!" He stopped for a minute, knocking back the drink; then tried to change the subject.

"How'd you boys find us, anyhow?" Chris was curious about it, but he really just wanted anything to take his mind off what Nathan had said he was going to do next. A person just never knew if the man was serious.

Werner entered the saloon, returned to his normal self, dressed in a stylish new suit, complete with a neat derby hat. The only remaining visible evidence of his time in the mine were red, calloused hands, and the shining remnants of a black eye. What bruises remained were hidden beneath his dapper apparel.

"Herr Kruner! Welcomen!"

"Herr Dunne! Mein Freund. Es ist gut, Sie oben zu sehen wieder. Sind Sie wohl? ", (My friend, it is good to see you up again. Are you well?)

"Nicht zu falsch. Er heilt bald." (Not too bad. It will heal soon.)

"How rude," Josiah deadpanned. "At least you ought to introduce us and tell us just exactly what the hell he's saying, J.D."

"My friend. I said it was good to see this one again, and asked if he was well."

"I didn't think you spoke English!"

"Herr Sanchez. Your young friend here is an excellent teacher. You should let him instruct you sometime."

"Oh, sure..." Josiah looked up for divine guidance and much patience, but they all laughed together anyway.

The man smiled and took a seat beside J.D., accepting a glass of the whiskey, and saluting the boy in return. In German, he began to speak slowly and quietly to the man. "J.D., thank you for coming to find me. You are a good friend, and your friend Chris is almost as courageous as you. I wish you well. My home is in a place called Flagstaff, just south of Mexican Hat. You will come visit me, yes. And bring that one with you. He could use a little rest. As for the rest of these gunslingers, have patience. They will learn."

He continued in English for them all..."Gentlemen, the stage leaves. I must too. I leave you my thanks for my life and for trusting this one to come to find me. You give me a rare gift." He rose, taking another glass of the good, stout Rye, toasted J.D. first and then Chris. He toasted the rest with one more round, then left to meet the stage.

When he walked away...everything was solemn, until Buck began to laugh, "Rare gift? J.D.? Boy, what'd you put in that man's whiskey?"

"Shut up, Buck." Chris said it with more sharpness than anyone expected. Under the circumstances, nobody faulted him for it.

"Must have been a great plan you cooked up there, Chris."

"Plan? My plan? Hell."

"You always have a plan, Stud! What was it this time?"

"Whatever happened outside that mine wasn't any of my planning. All my plan for inside got us was near dead. Damn it to hell, Nathan.... stop!"

"Stop when I'm through. You asked for this..."

"Who thought it up then? It most certainly was not one of our bunch. Was it Herr Kruner?"

"Well, Ezra, just who the hell would have understood what he was saying? I don't think Chris would of..."

"Plan had to be J.D.'s, Vin. He was the one who climbed out to get us help. Is somebody gonna tell me what happened?"

Buck had been itching to tell the tale. "Well, we'd stopped just outside this passage like, between those two plateaus. Vin wanted to go through, but you know how I am. I hate going through a blind alley of all kind...especially when there's a way to go around. Well, we were having us a bit of a conversation..."

"A conversation?" Chris actually smiled, just before he drew in another sharp breath as Nathan began to examine the mangled wound in his side.

"A conversation." Josiah contributed as he braced the man for Nathan's hellish ministrations. "A conversation that sounded like a chorus of Medusa's hair curls."

"Damn, Josiah. Don't make me laugh." J.D. was listening intently, following the lead of the other one who was putting up with a bit of needle and new thread about then. "Ain't there any whiskey left around here?"

"Not to drink, J.D. You've just had enough. We need what we've got to clean this stuff."

"Then somebody ought to check this place real good, Buck. Ought to be a bottle of something somewhere a man can drink. It is a saloon."

"Nathan'll just pour it on your back, J.D. Stop your bellyaching." Vin said it, but as he did, he picked up a jar of salve, walked over, removed the shirt and bandages, and began to rub some of the smelly but soothing stuff into the cut and bruises on the young man's back. He spoke low to his friend, "Ought to ease it some. Think I might do this just a touch more gentle than that one, pard. You two went and made him mad....again. Don't fret too much over this...you're gonna heal real good." When he was finished, he walked over to the bar and poured two more glasses of Rye, and walking in front of their physician, handed one to J.D. and the other to Chris.

"Damn, Nathan, will you finish that and let me up." Chris' shot of Rye disappeared, followed by another Vin quickly poured. As pale as J.D. had been, Chris was quickly getting worse.

"Vin! No more now. Might start him bleeding again if he gets too much. Chris, you just stay still. I'll be through when I'm through."

He gritted his teeth, "Go on, Buck....talk.....gees....somebody talk...." He tried his best to twist away from Nathan and his needle. He could in no way slip Josiah's grasp.

"Be still...I've got to get your back after I finish this side."

"Shut up, Nathan...just finish this would you! Barkeep....bring a bottle for J.D. and one for me."

"Ain't gonna happen. You be still....drink this water if you're thirsty. You know you're just starting all over again, especially with that side. I ain't got the first bit of sympathy for you. What did you think you were doing? Fishing? And Mary's told me you got pitched off that horse."

"I DID NOT GET PITCHED OFF MY HORSE!!! Stupid lughead kicked me." To Chris the suggestion that any horse had thrown him was a major insult.

"Okay, Stud! You'll have to give us a complete confession on that little story later. Finally, Chris Larabee got pitched!!! I'll be horn swaggled."

"DID NOT GET PITCHED. I see I'm gonna have to have a little conversation of my own with that fool woman too!!" He started to rise from the chair.

"Now, my friend, be reasonable...." Josiah pushed him back into his seat.

"Yeah. Don't think you ought to go starting even a little ole fight with that one... not just now. Condition you're in, she just might win, and that would truly damage your fine reputation."

"Shoot, Buck. Have you just about insulted me enough for one day?"

"So, do you boys think she just might....I think I'll start a wager on the outcome..."

"Ezra...do I have to..." He tried to rise again.

"Now, boys...it's time for peace and tranquility....let's all just take a moment for silence before one of us.." he glanced at Chris, " commences stirring up a tempest."

Nathan clamped down on his damaged shoulder, "Now, Chris, you gonna get still and let me finish, or do I have to do something else you'll regret."

"Hell, Nathan!"

Vin just laughed...but he could see Larabee's ears turning red again. "Buckley, maybe you best finish telling them what happened."

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Chapter 14

"Right. Well, we decided to go around. We had just turned a little south to make the detour when J.D.'s horse came flying around this lake like a bat out of hell. I thought mine wasn't gonna be able to catch up to him. You've never seen a horse rigged up like that one."

"Well..." Chris gave him full attention.

"Horse was wearing J.D.'s hat. It was tied with rope stuck through the crown, and the rope was tied to his mane. Damn hat was just blowing in the breeze...." Buck and the rest burst into laughter.

"What?"

"And the hat had all these little sissy feathers sticking out of it...."

"Wasn't feathers, Buck, it was straw....fifteen pieces of straw. If you're gonna tell this at my expense, least you can do is get it right!"

Even as Nathan ripped a scab from his back, Chris grinned, though he cursed too, "Why fifteen?"

"Trying to tell them there was fifteen of em....only thing I had that I could think to use."

"And...." Buck laughed again.....

"And what?"

"And he had decorated the poor unfortunate creature with flowers in its tail... merciful heaven."

"Ezra, it wasn't flowers. It was branches...."

"Good idea, kid. They didn't see it, but I did. Him dragging all that brush behind him made easy tracking back to the mine. Thought it was real well done....just didn't think it was you that done it. Sorry, pard."

"Vin...one of these days I'm gonna prove I can track just as good as you!"

"Right, kid....you just let me know what lifetime that's gonna be in."

"You're overlooking the most important decoration, gentlemen. A true bit of divine inspiration."

"And what would that be, Josiah?" Chris felt a few minutes short of passing out, but he wanted to hear it all."

"Tied into the mane at that horse's shoulder, nestled all snug and tender, there were four of the nicest sticks of dynamite you ever saw...complete with a goodly length of the world's finest fusing."

"I do admit Josiah, it was a real nice invitation to come and blow something to hell."

"That it was, brother Buck....that it was. Leads men into temptation, though."

"And to think, this little ole puppy, this still-wet-behind-the-ears gunfighter was the one who thought it all up. My friends, we have trained him quite well...quite well. I, for one, am extremely proud."

"Shut up, Ezra. I can do anything any of you can..." J.D. tried to rise from the chair. Vin quickly pushed him down, only succeeding in making him angrier.

"Whoa, J.D. Easy." Chris closed tired green eyes, suddenly feeling more than woozy. Shaking his head sharply, he opened them again to look straight into the tired but hotheaded hazel ones, "You just rest easy, son. You don't owe them anything...no apologies, no explanations.... no nothing. It ain't none of their business."

He suddenly stopped talking. Quiet...too quiet. His hand was pressed against the throbbing side trying to stop the stinging pain. He didn't seem to hear anything at all.

"Nathan? You ain't hurt him too much have you?" Josiah reached down, feeling his forehead, checking to make certain he was okay.

"Naw. Don't think so. But he'll hurt for a day or two more...they both will. Thing is, Chris could have avoided most of this if he'd just been a little patient..could have waited for us to come back."

"Well, J.D., I'd have thought you'd just have blown that little ole place yourself. Get a little timid, did you? Maybe just have to leave you here next time."

"Buck, I...."

Through the descending fog, Chris heard the anger in the boy's voice again. It just wasn't fair...not now. He shook himself awake. "Buck, leave him alone!!! You boys just give him a little peace."

"Chris, I can handle this..."

"Know you can." He would have passed out, but there was something important he wanted to say...something more important than sleep. Something he felt was owed. He struggled to get it said.

"J.D., you've proved you can finish anything you put your mind to, and you finished all this just fine. They give you more grief, we'll just call em out in the middle of the street... together." His head nodded and he slept where he sat, a mixture of fatigue, stout Rye whiskey, and the dose of laudanum Nathan had slipped into the water.

"Thought that wasn't ever gonna kick in."

"Now, Nathan," Buck watched their leader with concern, "why'd you go do that to him. Thought you told us he was getting better."

"Yeah, but sometimes he just gets too big for his britches, and I get tired of it. He gets better a minute, then just has to go pull something real mule-headed like he did this morning. Thought I'd just see to it that he gets a little bit of rest."

"Nathan, he's fine, and he's just gonna raise hell again when he wakes up. You ought to just leave him alone."

"You ain't any better than he is, J.D. Come on...Buck, Josiah...You get Chris. Ezra, Vin...this one's yours. Let's get em back to my place."

"But..."

"But nothing. You've done proved you can be as big a trouble maker as Chris Larabee ever thought to be....you just ain't learned all his tricks yet. And if I have my way...you won't."

"But, I'm fine....I'm fine."

"I hear you. Here, you just drink this."

The youngest of them all recognized the heavy taste of laudanum hidden in the whiskey and tried to spit it out. Josiah put a stop to it, clamping a hand over his nose and mouth. "Oh, no, you don't. Come on boys....pick him up if you have to, but we're going. Wait too long, the kid'll be out on his feet, just like Larabee."

"Hell, Josiah, I ain't no KID!" He shook his suddenly woozy head. "Nathan, what did you do?"

"Kid, you just move right along with your two keepers. I want you and Chris both bedded down fast. Sleep...shoot, after as much whiskey the two of you've had this morning, you shouldn't have any problem at all. What you get for listening to a dang carouser like Chris."

"But, I don't want to..." The full force of the laudanum hit, and J.D. was out, head down on the table, snoring softly.

Buck snickered, "But I bet he has a headache the size of the whole territory by tomorrow morning."

"Probably. Well, he'll have earned it...both of em will. I won't have one bit of sympathy for either of em. It took Chris so long to pass out, I gave J.D. a double dose. As for me, I want a bath, some food, and a little sleep sometime today. And I need these two where they ought to be before I can get myself a little rest."

"Best idea you've had all day. Do we maybe need to tie em both down before they go wandering again? That way maybe all of us can get to have us a real good time."

"Amen, brother Buck, Amen. A most divine inspiration!"

Even Vin warmed to the idea, tossing back his final gut warmer. "All right Buck, Josiah, you got Chris? Ezra, help me with this little weasel. If we get em both tied down in the next few minutes, we might just have time to enjoy a little life for a whole day before one of em decides to try it again."

End