“I’ve got to put some more of this on your burns, Chris.”

“O...kay,” he told her.

“Do you want some water first?”

“P...please,” his head was lifted and a cup placed before his lips. He felt the soothing liquid enter his mouth and swallowed painfully. Slowly, but surely he drank the water until she took it away. “T...thanks,” he mumbled.

“You’re more than welcome, Son,” she told him. “Now I’m gonna rub this stuff into your skin. You tell me when it gets to much for you and we’ll take a break.”

“O...kay.” Larabee gritted his teeth as she smoothed the juice onto his skin. He held his breath through the touch of the hands on his chest, face and thighs. He bit back a cry as she turned him on his side and slathered the juice over the burns there. As she continued down his lean body a slight tremble wracked through him. He coughed and pulled his legs up to his body as he wrapped his arms around his chest. He remembered being sick as a child and the doctor telling his parents he might not make it. He would’ve been only too glad to escape the agony in death and now he felt the same way, But he wasn’t gonna give in to it. He would fight to stay alive and see that justice was doled out where it belonged. At the moment he just couldn’t remember who deserved his wrath. He felt her hands ease him to his back once more and knew she was talking to him, but he couldn’t hear her over the throbbing drums in his skull.

Chris felt the water in his stomach rise like a tidal wave up his throat. He panicked and tried to sit up as he knew what was coming. A hand on his shoulder eased him to his side and the water disgorged from his body, mingled with hacking coughs until he lay back weak and struggling to breath once more.

Abigail rushed from the room, the terrible sound of Larabee’s desperation ringing in her ears. She hurried to the stove and lifted the boiled roots from the pot. She strained the tea into a cup and laid it aside. She poured the rest of the liquid into a bowl and brought into the room. The heavy wheeze and harsh cough from the man on the bed told her he needed relief fast. The medicinal odors from the Osha root soon permeated the room as she hurried back to get the home remedy cough syrup. Before returning to the room she steeped a cup of Willow bark tea to wash the syrup down with.

When she re-entered the room she saw the green eyes watching her. His breathing seemed a little easier, but he still coughed periodically.

“I got two things for you to drink, Son,” she said as she placed the two cups on the bedside table. “Just let me get a few more pillows to stack behind you. Maybe that’ll help you breath better.”

“O...kay,” Larabee answered. He watched her leave, again wondering who this woman was and why she was so willing to help him. She returned with two plump Pillows and helped him sit forward. Chris held himself erect while she placed the pillows behind his back. He breathed a sigh of relief as he leaned back into the firm feather pillow.

“How’s that,” Abigail asked.

“B...better...thanks,” he answered.

“Now let’s get this into you so you can go back to sleep.” She held the first cup to his lips and smiled as his nose wrinkled. “You need this, Chris,” she told him.

“S...smells...bad,” Larabee told her, closing his mouth. One look from the woman made him smile and open his mouth.

“My Will used to say the same thing, but like you he drank it.” Abigail watched as he fought to swallow the bitter tasting syrup. There wasn’t much of it, but what there was seemed to take forever to get down his throat.

“One more thing for you, Chris,” Abigail told him as his eyes began to lose focus.

“W...what?” he rasped.

“Just a little tea. It’ll help with the pain and fever and hopefully let you sleep,” she soothed as she held the cup to the cracked lips. She smiled as he drank half the cup, but couldn’t get him to drink anymore as he slipped into a deep sleep.

The six peacekeepers found the tree easily. Its gnarled roots and thick dead limbs a stark contrast to the area around it. The thick trunk was blackened as if it was hit by lightening at one point in time. The tree, like its victims, was dead and lifeless as they searched for the area for a fresh grave.

Vin led them to a copse of hardwood trees and soon found the telltale mounds of earth that indicated where a body was buried. He knew the others were checking as well, but prayed he wouldn’t hear a shout of alarm. Fifteen minutes later they met back in the clearing.

“Anything?” Dunne asked.

“Don’t look like no new graves in the area, Kid,” Tanner replied.

“I came to the same conclusion during my perusal of the area, Mr. Tanner,” Standish explained.

“Do you think Chris got away from them, Vin?” Wilmington asked.

“He musta done somethin’, Buck. I ain’t seen no body and the sheriff and his men went lookin’ fer somethin’. We all know, Chris, he ain’t gonna give in without a fight. I got a feelin’ he’s out there and we’d best find ‘im before Burke and his men do,” Tanner explained as he hurried to his horse.

“Not much daylight left, Vin,” Sanchez observed.

“Got about an hour, Josiah. Maybe we should head back ta town and see if we can pick up the sheriff’s tracks. Once we find out where he’s goin’ we ‘ead out at first light.”

“We need to go after the son of a bitch now,” Wilmington snarled.

“Buck’s right,” Dunne agreed.

“I’d like nothin’ more than ta go after ‘em tonight, but the horses need ta rest and we need ta get more supplies,” Tanner advised.

“Vin’s right, Buck, we won’t do Chris any good if the horses collapse and we can’t get to him,” Jackson told them.

“We all want to find him, Buck, but we have to make sure we have the ability to do so. We get some rest and supplies and then we find Brother Chris,” Sanchez said as the six men mounted up.

‘Where the hell are you, Stud,’ Wilmington wondered as he followed the other back to haven.

Burke swore in frustration as they left the Martin farm. They’d stopped by four homes so far, but came away empty handed. No one had seen the man he described, but if they did they’d hold him for the sheriff. He was hot and angry as they rode away. In the two days since they’d found the small piece of material over the cave they’d searched the surrounding area and along the riverbank. They failed to turn up anything new and he wondered if maybe Mike and Harvey were right and Larabee was a dead man. He thought of the money and other items stashed away in his home in haven. More money than he’d ever had in his whole life and so easy to take. All he needed was to pick the person to rob and find a victim to charge with the crime. He hoped his choice of Chris Larabee wasn’t going to be his undoing. ‘We need to be sure,’ he thought as he spurred his horse towards the next farm.

Twilight would soon be upon them and he wanted to bed down as close to the Newman farm as possible. She’d be their first stop tomorrow. He smiled as he pictured the elderly crone. She’d made him feel two feet tall on her last visit to town and he wanted to scare her by showing up on her doorstep at dawn.

Abigail checked the pot of chicken broth she had on the stove. She’d killed one of the hens from her henhouse in order to make the tasty broth for the sick man. Throughout the day he’d wake up, take small sips of water and teas before losing the contents of his stomach in a violent steam. He’d lay back against the pillow, sweat beading on his forehead and glistening on his chest, coughing and gasping for air. She worried that he was rapidly losing the strength he needed to survive. She knew how important it was to keep fluids in the sick man, yet the violence of his vomiting sapped whatever energy he built up during sleep.

She hoped the salty broth would be easier on his stomach. As darkness spread a thick blanket outside her windows she lit the lantern on the table. She sat wearily and rubbed her tired bloodshot eyes. Her hands skimmed through her hair and she sighed tiredly. The long day promised to turn into an even longer night as a weak reached her ears. She used her hands to push herself up from the chair and walked to the bedroom.

The blond hair stuck to the sunburnt face, the head slowly moving from side to side and a cracking voice issued from the strained throat.

Larabee stood on the street watching as Vin Tanner looked into the back of his wagon. Chris’s instincts kicked in and he knew something was wrong. His head came up and he saw the muzzle of a shotgun jutting from a window of the hotel. “No! Vin!” he screamed as a shot rang out. He watched as the shaggy head snapped back and blood flowed from a bullet wound in the center of his best friend’s forehead.

Abigail watched as the blond became distressed, the head moving faster as whatever nightmare he was having grew more intense. She moved into the room and sat beside him on the bed.

He hurried to stand over Tanner’s body, only to find the face belonged to JD Dunne. The kid’s mouth was frozen open in a silent scream of pain and anger. The face changed again and this time it was Jackson’s face, his neck surrounded by a thick noose, his tongue hanging from his mouth. With a quicksilver movement the face became that of Ezra Standish, bloodied and beaten, cards spread over his face, eyes staring lifelessly back at him. It shifted again and became Josiah Sanchez, dead, but there were no visible wounds, just a large black crow pecking at his lower lip. “NO!” Chris screamed as the face changed a final time and became Buck Wilmington. The once handsome face burnt beyond recognition, yet Chris’s fever mind knew immediately who he was seeing.

Abigail felt her heart break as the harsh cry turned into a soft sob. She knew this man would never show such weakness when he was healthy and strong and it tore at her to see him like this. She vowed she’d get to see Chris as he should be seen, strong and healthy. She let the tears fall as she realized she didn’t even know his full name.

“Chris,” she called softly, feeling the trembling slowly subside. She knew holding him was not good for his sunburned skin, but she knew he needed to feel someone touching him. To know he wasn’t alone in the world. The cry she’d just heard from him made her feel as if that’s how he felt. “Come on, Chris, I want you to open your eyes and look at me. That’s it,” she smiled as the eyes moved behind his lids.

Chris heard the voice pulling at him, but didn’t want to face any more pain. His mind was fighting what his body seemed to think was a losing cause. His skin tingled and burned where hands touched him, yet he didn’t want to lose that touch. He settled his body against her and let his eyes open. The face above him was blurry, but he knew who it was and he forced a smile to his face.

“A...Abby,” he mumbled.

The small cracks on his lips opened and bled when he talked and she placed her finger over his lips. “Try not to talk, Son. Think you could manage a little broth and water?”

Larabee nodded and felt her ease him back to the pillows. His body craved the liquid, yet his soul missed the soothing touch of his guardian angel. For that’s what she was. He had no idea anymore why he was hurt or what brought him to this haven, but the woman looking after him must’ve been sent from above. His fever baked mind kept conjuring up images as he lay in the bed. Men with guns, their faces hidden in shadow, a hang man’s noose, a cameo broach, a locket, a fire. He shook his head to rid himself of the images of the brightly burning fire and the screams echoing in the night. A scratchy sound escaped his throat as the fiery vision faded.

“Chris. Are you alright?”

He looked at the woman, his eyes filled with unshed tears, as he pulled his body further up in the bed. “I’m f...fine,” he gasped as he waited for the room to stop spinning.

Abigail sat beside him and waited for him to relax. “Are you ready to try this?” she asked when she thought he was past the worst of it.

“T...think so,” he smiled.

She eased the cup of water to his lips and let him take a couple of sips. She removed the cup and sat it on the table. She watched as he fought the nausea, praying that this time it would stay down. “Are you ready to try a little broth?”

Chris nodded slightly, afraid to speak for fair of losing his fight with his rebellious stomach.

She eased him forward again and held the cup of lukewarm broth to his lips. He swallowed a couple of sips and she eased him back to the pillow once more. Again she let a few minutes pass before offering him more water. For the next hour she alternated the water and the broth until he finished half a cup of each. She watched as his tired eyes closed before she sat back in the chair she placed beside the bed. She reached for the basin of water and gently washed his face and taut chest. During the day she’d rubbed the juice of the inner pit of the plant into his skin. She knew it would be some time before the burn lost its sting, but it was all she could do for him now. She wished she had something to give him for pain, but all she had was the willow bark tea. It helped, but she knew it wasn’t nearly enough.

She washed his body once more and applied the soothing juice before covering him in the soft sheet and blanket once more. She replaced the cooled basin of Osha water with a fresh one and checked her patient once more. Knowing she’d done everything she could, for now, she stood up and headed for her own bed. She left his door open in case he needed her during the night.

At dawn the following morning six riders left the small town of Haven. It took Vin less than half an hour to find the trail the Sheriff and his men took when they’d left three days before. No traffic came through the town during that time and the trail was easily discernible for the experienced tracker. Broken twigs and shoed prints were easily pointed out to the others as he knelt on the road. One of the horses had a distinctive groove in its right front shoe and Tanner would use that one to make sure they remained on the trail.

Burke and his men rode into the silent yard. The tiny house, barn and chicken coop were in good repair and the sheriff wondered where this woman got her energy. He slid from his horse and flipped his reins to Harvey.

“You two wait here,” he ordered as he walked towards the porch.

“Sure ya don’t want one of us ta come with ya? I mean she’s a real tough ol’ biddy,” Mike asked.

“Yeah, Ray, member what she did in town,” Harvey laughed as he remembered the elderly woman pushing Burke out of the way and climbing into her wagon.

“Shut up!” Burke snarled as he climbed the steps.

Abigail woke to the sound of horses entering her front yard. She’d lived alone for three years and awoke to any noise. She knew there were three horses as she eased the curtain back on the window to the left of the door. Her hand went to her mouth when she saw the three men on horseback. She hurried to make sure the blond was okay before reaching over the small fireplace for the shotgun. She hurried to the front door and waited for them to come up the step.

A knock sounded on the door and she took a deep breath. She lifted her shotgun in front of her and opened the door. “What the hell do you want, Burke?” she asked angrily, her dislike of the man shining through in her words.

“Take it easy ya ol’ fool,” Burke hissed. “Put the damn gun down we’re not ‘ere ta ‘urt ya. We just want ta ask ya a couple of questions?”

“I don’t have nothing to say to the likes of you, now get off’ve my property before I waste a bullet on your worthless hide,” she heard laughter from Burke’s companions, but didn’t care. These men were animals and she knew she had what they were after.

“We’ll leave when ya answer my questions. We’re looking fer a murderin’ thief! ‘Ave ya seen a blond haired man in the last few days,” Burke asked.

“There’s been no one but you three in the last few weeks. Guess there’s been no human company in ages,” she hissed.

“Watch yer mouth, ya ol’ crone or I’m gonna shut ya up fer good,” Burke warned.

“Big strong sheriff’s gonna take on an old woman who can’t hardly take care of herself,” she laughed as his face reddened. “I told you I haven’t seen anyone and if I did I’d make sure he got away from you and your so called laws.”

“Ya’d best shut up or I’ll shut ya up,” the sheriff snapped.

“Then get off my property before I put a new hole in you.”

“I’m gonna take a look ‘round first. Now get outta my way.”

“Take another step if you want, but first tell me where you’d prefer I put the new hole?” She saw some of the confidence leave his face and she held her ground. She smiled as she moved the shotgun from limb to limb on his body.

“I’m gonna search the barn and the shed, then we’re comin’ back ‘ere and we’re gonna search the ‘ouse. Ya’d best put that damn gun away ‘fore we get done or we’ll come in ‘ere shootin’.”

“You won’t get far, Sheriff,” she said the last word sarcastically, but it was lost on the man. “You’ll be the first one to stop a bullet once you step through my door. Now get outta here.” She slammed the door in his face and leaned heavily against it. The strength her words gave her left as soon as she closed the door and she nearly cried in relief. A sound from the bedroom caught her attention and she hurried towards it.

She entered the room to find Chris trying to push back the blankets. She hurried to his side and held his shoulders. “No, Chris, just lie still.”

“H...hot! T...too damn hot. B...burning...fire,” his head rolled from side to side as he cried weakly. “S...Sarah, help me...I’m b...burning up.” He shoved against her hands and fought to get away from the fire burning within his own body and mind. Dancing figures swam before him, feverish heat causing the shadows to form into people he knew, yet couldn’t identify.

“Chris, please, you need to calm down, Son. I got you and I’m gonna take care of you.”

“T...too hot,” his cracked voice grew weaker, but still he struggled against her hands. “P...please, I...I c...can’t...” he grew quiet as a cool damp cloth made contact with his heated skin.

“I know you’re hot, Chris. You’ve got a bad fever and you’ve got sickness in your body. I’m doing everything I can to make you feel better but Sheriff Burke and his men are outside.”

‘Burke,’ the name got through his fever and delirium and he forced his eyes open. “B...Burke...”

“He’s looking for you, Son and you’re gonna have to be quiet so he won’t know you’re here.”

“N...need a g...gun,” he mumbled.

“You wouldn’t be able to hold a gun right now, Chris. I’ve got my shotgun and I’ll take care of them.”

“T...they’ll kill y...you. C...can’t l...let them get y...you,” he struggled against her hold, but lay back in frustration as she quickly proved how weak he was.

“I can handle myself, Chris. I’ve been taking care of myself all my life. My Will used to say I was as strong and mule headed as they come. I think he was right. Now how about I get you some breakfast before those boys come back.”

“O...kay,” Larabee smiled thinly and watched her back as she left him alone in the room. ‘Burke,’ he thought as the whiskered face swam before his eyes. The cruel look on the man’s face caused him to shiver in spite of the heat in his body. He watched as the woman came back into the room with two cups in her hands. ‘I won’t let them hurt you,’ he silently vowed.

“First we start with the Syrup,” she smiled at the look of distaste on his face. “Now don’t you go scowling like that. With the way your skin’s all burnt it might end up staying that way. Now open up and we’ll get this part over with as quick as we can. Then I’ve got a little fruit juice for you.” She lifted his head and placed the cup to his lips.

Chris drank the small amount of obnoxious liquid and grimaced as it burned a path down his abused throat. He waited for a few minutes, breathing deeply to once more quell his roiling stomach.

“One more, Son.” She held the second cup which contained juice strained from her own fruit preserves to his mouth.

Larabee smiled as the thick syrup hit his throat, wondering if he’d died and gone to heaven. The sweet liquid tasted exotic after the horrid taste of the cough syrup. It took a while, but he got the drink down and sighed heavily. Although his stomach still rebelled against the first drink he continued to fight to hold it inside.

Abigail watched as the green eyes closed and went back to the outer room. She went to the window and pulled the curtain back slightly. The front yard was empty, but something told her Burke and the others weren’t very far away. She picked up the shotgun and wondered how long before she’d have to use it to defend the man in the room.

Vin continued tracking the three horses until they came to the river. He could see a jumble of prints in the still damp mud near the edge and knew the men had spent some time in the area. He moved along the edge and followed the footprints across a narrow ledge. He spotted a small cave and quickly moved towards. He could feel the other five men anxiously awaiting word from him. He knelt before the mouth of the cave and looked inside. It was bigger than he first suspected, big enough for a man to stretch out, but not quite high enough for him to stand in. He eased back up, and used his hands to rub the ache in his lower back. The days of hard riding and searching for their friend was wreaking havoc with the strained muscles and he knew he’d be in misery if he kept it up much longer.

He glanced around the area and note the smudge marks on the cliff face. He knew this area was covered by the overhanging ledge and was protected from the rain and these marks could’ve been there a long time. Vin Tanner knew without a doubt Chris Larabee had been here and scaled the rocky cliff face in order to save his own life. He knew they needed to find the gunslinger before it was too late. He turned and walked back to the small ledge and easily jumped the strip of water.

“Anything?” Wilmington asked.

“There’s a cave over there. Big ‘nough for a man ta hide out if’n he was lookin’ for shelter from rain or...”

“Burke,” the ladies man finished.

“Yeah. Found a spot that looks like someone may have climbed o’er the ledge. If it was Chris then at least we know he’s alive when he left ‘ere.”

“Vin, I found that track you showed me. It looks like they’s headed south from here,” Dunne hurried to show Tanner and the others what he’d found.

Vin knelt and checked the track and turned a quick grin on the young easterner. “Ya done good, Kid.” He didn’t need to look to know how much his words meant to JD Dunne. The kid was always trying to prove himself in spite of the confidence the others had in him. The Bostonian was proving to be a valuable asset to their tight knit group. “Alright, let’s ride!” Tanner ordered as they mounted up and moved out.

Burke, Mike and Harvey moved away from the house and tied the horses in a patch of grass near a small strand of sturdy trees.

“What’re we gonna do, Ray?” Harvey asked.

“We’re gonna wait until the ol’ biddy goes ta sleep. Shouldn’t be too long with her bein’ so ol’ and all.”

“Then what?” Mike asked.

Burke was beginning to think he’d joined up with two idiots. He shook his head in exasperation as he answered. “Then we go ta the house and we make damn sure Larabee’s not in there.”

“What if he is?” Mike asked.

“Then we hang the son of a bitch just like we planned.”

“And if he’s not there?” Harvey asked.

“Maybe we’ll just have ta kill the ol’ woman and make it look like a robbery.”

“Yeah, she’s lived long ‘nough. It’s time she quit bein’ an old bitch,” Mike laughed.

“Mike I want ya ta go around back. See if ya can get a look in the windows back there. Harvey, you take the east side. Just watch and listen. Ya see anythin’ I need ta know I’ll be over by the barn watchin’ the front of the pace.” Burke led the way back to the farm and took cover behind the barn. He watched the front of the house, but nothing move and he settled in to wait.