Abigail moved about the house getting things ready to treat her patient as best she could. She prepared the Osha roots and the Canaigre and poured cool water into the basin. She needed to try and cool the man’s fever before it got worse. She wished she had ice, but it wasn’t available to her right now. She picked up the basin and walked back into the room where he lay. His body was once more engulfed in a fine sheen of perspiration and she set the basin down on the table. She touched his forehead and watched as sick green eyes opened and tried to focus on her. A weak cough tore from his chest and she knew this was evidence of his worsening condition. He needed to drink more, but if she overdid it with the water and juice he vomited it before it had a chance to settle. The small amount of liquid he took in so far that day wasn’t near enough.
“How do you feel, Son?” she asked softly.
Chris saw the sympathy in her eyes and forced a smile to his face. “I’m o...okay,” he lied.
“Sure you are,” she laughed. “I wish I had something more to give you to help with the pain, but all I have is the Willow bark tea. Do you think you can drink a little for me?”
He couldn’t resist the hope in the softly spoken words and nodded slowly. He drank a couple of sips of the tepid liquid and turned away.
She watched him turn his face away and placed the cup back on the table. Without speaking she used the cloth to wash the sweat from his face and neck. She heard the soft sigh from his throat and smiled, knowing her touch was helping him.
Chris relaxed and let her tend to him. He didn’t have the energy it would take to stop her even if he wanted to. His chest continued to cause him misery with each breath. He coughed to rid his body of the heavy feeling, but it wasn’t working. The harder he coughed the more energy was sapped from his body and the weaker he felt. He knew she’d changed the water by the bed as fresh vapors assaulted his nostrils, seeping deep into his throat.
His thoughts returned to Burke’s visit. He didn’t know how long ago it was, but he knew the man would be back. Burke would not take the chance on him being alive and getting help.
“Chris,” her voice sounded tired and he opened his eyes to look into her face. “I’m gonna need to clean the wound on your arm again,” she told him.
Larabee nodded and eased onto his left side. He soon felt her working at the wound and felt something thick and sticky flow from it. The pain was excruciating and he tried to detach himself from it. He held his breath as she continued to drain the infected wound. He felt her pour a small amount of whiskey into it and gasped as it burned painfully. His stomach muscles clenched, his head throbbed, and his throat seemed to close over. “S...sic...” he didn’t finish the word as a thick stream of vomit erupted from his throat.
Abigail knew what was coming and placed the towel in front of him to catch what he expelled. She waited for him to finish and turned ham onto his back once more. The lines of pain were deeply creased in his forehead as she washed his face and neck. She took the soiled towel away and at beside him, surprised to see his eyes open and watching her every move.
“S...sorry,” he mumbled.
“You got nothing to be sorry for, Son. I’ve cleaned my share of sick beds and even been in a few myself. Now you just rest and let me take care of you. I’m gonna give you a little more water, okay?” He nodded and accepted the small amount of water.
He kept his eyes on her as she placed the glass back no the table. “Y...you n...need sleep.”
She couldn’t help but smile at his words. As sick as he was he could still see how tired she was. “I’m fine, Chris, I’m just gonna...”
“Go...sleep...I’m f...fine,” he assured her.
“I will. Now you stop worrying about these old bones and get some rest.”
“N...not till you do,” he answered firmly.
“If this is a test of wills, Chris, you’ll lose. I’m the stubborn mule remember?”
He smiled and let his eyes close. He didn’t think he’d sleep, his body was filled with the reawakened fire of fever and he trembled in spite of the heat.
Abigail watched him closely and knew he wasn’t sleeping. She re-wet the cloth and placed it across his forehead before leaving the room. As an afterthought she came back inside and closed the heavy curtains. She walked about her home doing the same at each window.
They rode most of the morning before coming to a small farm. Josiah rode up to the front of the house and slid from his horse. He’d been elected to go in alone so they wouldn’t seem so intimidating to whoever lived there. He walked past the small garden of flowers and knocked on the plain wooden door. It wasn’t long before a woman in a plain gingham dress and flour streaked through her dark hair opened the door.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“I sure hope so, Ma’am. I’m looking for a friend of mine. He’s about six feet, blond hair and green eyes.”
“I already tol’ the sheriff I ain’t seen no one ‘round here...”
“Sheriff Burke?” Sanchez asked.
“He’s the only Sheriff in these parts, Mister. He came by here yesterday lookin’ for yer friend. Only he said the man was a convicted murderer.”
“My friend is no murderer, Ma’am,” Sanchez assured her.
“The sheriff said they had a trial for him and he was found guilty,” the woman frowned as she looked at the large man.
“There was no trial, Ma’am. Burke and his men railroaded the people into a guilty verdict without giving Chris a chance to speak.”
“I wish I could help you, Mister, but I really haven’t seen anyone in ages. If it’s any help the sheriff and his men were headin’ to the Martin place next.”
“Where would that be?”
“Stay on the trail and you’ll come across it. They might not be home though seeing this is the day they go into Haven for supplies.”
“We’ll check with them. Thank you Ma’am,” Sanchez tipped his hat and turned away.
“I sure hope ya find yer friend, Mister,” she called after the retreating form.
Mike move towards the second window and swore as the curtain was drawn closed. The first one he’d checked was the old ladies bedroom. He’d seen nothing out of the ordinary there and moved away. He tried to see into the second room but everything was in shadows. The curtains covering the window kept him from seeing anything but vague shapes. He couldn’t tell if anyone was inside or not. He moved back towards the trees and hurried around the front of the house.
He noticed the damaged plants as he hurried towards Burke’s hideout. He knew the plants could be medicinal in nature and he wondered if Larabee was indeed inside and the old woman was taking care of him. A cruel glint shone in his eyes as he made the corner of the barn and saw one of his partners.
“Anything?” Burke asked.
“Checked her bedroom, but couldn’t see nothin’...”
“What about the other one?”
“She closed the curtains ‘fore I could see inside.”
“Now why’d she do that,” Burke asked, his mouth curling up on one side.
“She’s hiding somethin’.”
“Or someone,” the sheriff finished.
“Someone who’s hurt,” Mike smiled as he said the three words. “She’s been cutting the Canaigre for something.”
“Canaigre?”
“It’s a plant that grows just about everywhere. Ma used it when one of us kids got sunburnt. I figure Larabee’s been running around in nothin’ but his drawers. He’s got ta ‘ave some burns on ‘im.”
“It’s time we paid her and whoever she’s hidin’ a visit. Go get Harvey and we’ll see who she’s hidin’.”
Abigail moved through the house, running on sheer willpower. She kept the loaded shotgun with her at all times, knowing Burke and his men were still out there. She continued to check on her patient, making sure he took small sips of water or the juice from her preserves. There were time when he was lucid and fighting to get out of bed while other times he seemed to be delirious and calling for the unknown woman again. When his deep raspy voice shouted for Sarah it cut through Abigail’s soul. When he shouted for Adam she could only guess it was a child he was calling for. Each time he’d come out of the delirium he’d have tears in his eyes. The emotional pain in the green orbs was worse than anything physical and she wondered what happened to the two people he seemed to care so much for. She sat in the chair, the shotgun across her lap and drifted towards sleep.
They found the Martin place an hour later and once more Josiah did the talking. This time it was a man who answered the door. They were getting ready to head for the town and he snapped his answers curtly as he readied the wagon and called for his wife and kids. He explained that the Sheriff was there earlier in the day and that he was looking for a murdering bastard. Josiah didn’t bother explaining to the man that Larabee was no murderer, but something told him his words would be a wasted effort. He joined his friends at the end of the lane and watched as the wagon and it’s four occupants rode away.
“Did they see Chris?” Dunne asked worriedly.
“No, but our friendly sheriff was here last night.”
“Then he still hasn’t found Chris,” Jackson observed.
“Nope. It seems like the sheriff and his men are having no luck either,” Josiah told them. ‘Thank god,’ he silently thought.
“We’d best keep going. The trail continues south from here,” Tanner said as the men once more rode away empty.
Chris opened his eyes and looked at the woman in the chair beside him. Her relaxed pose took years off her face and he saw how pretty she must’ve been when she was younger. It took him a few minutes to remember where he was and why he hurt so much. His throat was dry and felt as if it was full of sand. He felt as if his mouth was filled with cotton and he reached for the glass on the table. His arms felt leaden as he lifted the glass and pulled it towards his mouth. He swallowed a few sips and sighed. He slid the glass back to the table and came fully awake as he heard a squeak from the outer room. He reached for the shotgun in the woman’s lap. He slid it from her fingers even as her eyes shot open and she grabbed for it.
“What’s wrong?” Abigail asked as she looked at the blond.
“Someone’s at the door,” he mumbled as he pointed the gun at the door to his room.
“Dammit!” she swore as she took the gun from his hands and headed for the outer rooms. She ignore the weak sounds of protest issuing from the bedroom. She lifted the gun and pointed it at the front door of her house. “If that’s you, Burke, you’d better think twice about coming inside! I’ll fill you full of holes before the door finishes opening!” she hissed and was pleased to hear retreating footsteps. The relief was short lived as she heard a sound from the bedroom.
Chris forced his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. He waited for the room to stop spinning and stood to his full height, his right arm gripped tightly in his left hand as he forced one foot ahead of the other. The sound of glass shattering on his right and he looked up as a man came flying through the window. He didn’t take the time to see who it was as he launched an attack before the man regained his feet.
Larabee fought with everything he could, knowing there was no way he could win in his condition. Still he battered at the man’s face with his damaged wrist until two dark hands clasped his own. The two rolled back and fourth on the floor, each struggling to get the upper hand.
Chris felt his anger and frustration give him renewed strength and he pulled his arms from the steel grip holding them. Again he sent fists into the man’s face, ignoring the cries of pain, smiling as he realized the cries were issuing from his own damaged throat. He couldn’t let himself feel the pain or weakness, but his mind registered both as he pummelled the form he had pinned to the floor.
Abigail hurried towards the room, but the sound of splintering glass form the second bedroom drew her attention, “Chris!” she cried as she hurried into the room. She saw the two men grappling on the floor and pointed her shotgun in their direction. She waited, praying for the chance she needed, but none came as the two forms rolled swiftly back and fourth.
“Drop it!” the sound came from her right and she turned to see one of Burke’s deputies pointing his gun at her. Without thinking she lifted her shotgun and released a shell directly into his chest. She turned as the door flew open, but did not have time to lift her gun as Burke levelled his own directly at her. “Don’t,” he signaled for her to lower her weapon, a leering smile on his whiskered face.
Abigail knew she had no choice. The weapon in her hand was empty and of no use. Burke would put a bullet in her before she had a chance to get close enough to club him. She dropped the gun to the floor and listened as it clattered against the hard wood.
“Good choice, Mrs. Newman,” Burke sneered. Now ya’ll hang fer killin’ my deputy. Maybe we’ll even string ya up next ta Larabee. Now git in the room,” he ordered as the sounds of the scuffle continued. He was shocked to see Larabee battering Mike’s body. He pulled Abigail Newman closer to him and fired a shot in the air. The sunburnt face turned towards him and he laughed, “let ‘im up, Larabee or the ol’ biddy dies right now!”
Chris kept his fist held high above Mike, his arm trembling with the effort it took not to bring it crashing into the hated man’s face.
Mike felt the incredible force that was beating him cease and shoved the body off his own. He smiled as Larabee landed on his back beside the bed. “Son of a bitch don’t know when ta quit,” he snarled as he drew back his foot and kicked at the swollen wound in the gunslinger’s right arm. He laughed at the sharp gasp of pain and grabbed the wounded arm, dragging the injured man to his feet.
Chris gasped and tried to stop the nausea rising in his stomach. He forced his head up and his eyes to open. He met Abigail’s worried gaze and turned an icy glare on the man who caused him so much pain.
“L...let...her go!” he hissed as the pressure continued on his arm.
“I don’t think so, Larabee, she killed one of my deputies and is gonna hang right after you.” Burke laughed as he saw the horror in the green eyes. “Bring ‘im outside, Mike, we gotta find us a nice big tree with a thick branch jest fer ‘im!”
“We’re not bringin’ ‘im back ta the hangin’ tree?” Mike asked.
“That’ll take too long. I wanna make sure he don’t git the chance ta come up with an escape plan. Nope, we’re gonna use this ol’ lady to make sure he cooperates.”
“I’ll do what you want. Just let ‘er go,” Larabee muttered weakly. His knees trembled and his legs threatened to give out.
“You’re gonna ‘ang, Larabee,” Mike hissed close to his ear. He dragged the sick man out of the house and shoved the naked form to the ground.
Burke laughed as he realized Larabee was totally nude and helpless in front of him. He shoved Abigail towards Mike and knelt beside the trembling body. “So, Larabee, ya got a thin’ fer ol’ woman. Ya like ‘em, Larabee. Man like you should be ‘shamed of ‘imself.”
“S...sick, bas....tard,” Chris cried as the sheriff poked against his groin with the pistol.
“Sounds like yer the one’s sick, Larabee,” he cackled as he shoved hard on the sick man’s abdomen.
Chris felt his stomach churn as the sheriff continued with the abuse to his body. He fought to breath, but little air entered his lungs. His eyes opened to mere slits as the sheriff continued to talk to him.
“Could gut shoot ya with yer own gun, Larabee. I kinda like this ‘ere colt of yours. Kinda feels like better justice if’n I was ta shoot ya with yer own weapon. Watch ya bleed out all over the ol’ woman’s yard.”
Larabee’s eyes focused on the white handled Colt in the sheriff’s hand. He knew he was a dead man anyway, but he wasn’t going down without a fight. Taking a deep breath to calm his breathing and his stomach he moved with lightning speed that surprised not only himself, but the other three people as well. He heard Abigail cry out, but couldn’t take the time to see what was happening with her and the man named Mike. He felt the gun being lowered towards him as Burke fought to get the upper hand. He struggled to keep from passing out as inch by inch the gun came down towards him. This was a fight he could never win, yet it was one he had too. The gun lowered further, almost to his throat now as the sheriff moved up over his body. A gasp escaped his throat, but he dismissed the pain raging through his sunburnt flesh.
“Die you son of a bitch!” Burke grinned as he continued to push down on the gun.
The sound of the first shot echoed through the hills and six men tried to gauge where the sound came from. The second one gave them the direction and they spurred their horses ahead. The thundering sound of hoof beats echoed in the still afternoon air. Sending tufts of dirt and sod behind each animal.
“No!” Abigail screamed as she watched the gun come down towards the blond’s chest. She fought the man holding her and drove her elbow into his side.
Chris heard her scream and with a strength born of desperation and a sense of calm he shoved up with the last ounce of strength. His finger on the trigger, knowing Burke’s finger was also there. The shot was deafening to his ears and at first he wasn’t sure if he’d won or lost. A dead weight on his chest made it difficult to breath, but he didn’t have the strength to push him off. He heard sounds to his left and turned his head to see Abigail Newman fighting against the man he knew as Mike. With renewed fury he pushed against the body above him. He cried out in frustration as the body remained over his own. He reached for the gun in the lifeless hand and pried it from the dead fingers. Calling on everything he had left he lifted the gun and pointed it at the two figures. His vision blurred as sweat and dust ran into them. He saw Mike’s hand holding a gun and Chris Larabee knew this was shot he had to take.
“Please, God!” he cried as he eased back on the trigger.
A third shot had them riding faster, six men leaning forward in their saddles, desperate to find the man they’d been searching for. By the time the forth shot rang out they were riding into a yard. They took no note of the house, barn, or shed. Their eyes resting on the three figures lying on the ground and the woman standing over two of the unmoving forms.
Abigail heard the shot and was shocked to see the man she was fighting gasp as blood issued from his mouth in a gargling rasp. She looked towards the man who’d saved her life in spite of the odds. She hurried to his side just as the sound of thundering hoof beats sounded from behind the barn. She grabbed the gun from Larabee’s hand and turned to face the newcomers.
“Don’t you touch him!” she shouted as fatigue and sweat made her eyes blur. Her first shot kicked up the dirt in front of a large horse and she made out the figure seated tall in the saddle. Something about the lean form in buckskin cried out for her to trust him, but she’d been through too much. She watched as he climbed down from his saddle. “I said you can’t touch him!” she hissed firing once more. She swore as the hat flew from the newcomer’s head. Tears filled her eyes at the thought of these men hurting the man she was trying to protect.
Tanner’s eyes glanced from the woman to the dirt covered figures beside her. Blood covered the side of one man’s head and dripped onto the still figure below him. “I ain’t gonna hurt ‘im, Ma’am...”
“That’s right, Ma’am, we’re his friends,” Dunne interrupted as he joined the tracker.
Abigail’s eyes turned to a third figure as he approached. She could see the worry etched on his dark face as he knelt before her. “I’m a healer, Ma’am. I want to help him.”
“H...healer?” she asked
“Yes, Ma’am. Chris is a good friend and we want to help him,” Tanner’s soft voice drawled as he drew closer to the woman and the unmoving men.
“You won’t hurt him?” she asked, the gun held in front of her as she continued to protect the injured man.
“No, Ma’am, Nathan here will help him,” Sanchez soothed as he knelt beside the trembling woman. He reached out and took the gun from her unsteady hands.
Abigail looked into the deep blue eyes and knew she could trust this man. There was something in the steady gaze that told her to trust him. With a heavy sigh she felt him pull her into an embrace. She sobbed against his shoulder and watched as the dark skinned man and the longhaired man pulled the body off Chris Larabee. She watched as dark hands reached down to touch the blond’s neck. She lifted her head off the strong shoulder and wiped the tears from her face.
“Is he?”
“He’s alive,” Jackson said. He looked towards the woman and asked. “Can we get him into the house so I can tend him properly?”
“Y...yes. I got a bed he’s been using since he showed up here,” she took one last look at the two bodies but had no regrets. These two deserved what they got and she was glad they couldn’t hurt the blond anymore.
“Josiah, can you carry Chris inside?” Jackson asked.
Sanchez moved forward and lifted the nude body into his arms. Wilmington stood beside the larger man and watched as Larabee’s head was tucked into the ex-preacher’s neck. The body seemed to be covered in bruises and scratches. Sunburn ran the length of the lean man except for the area around his buttocks and groin. Buck winced as he thought of the pain caused by minor sunburns. This was one of the worst he’d ever seen. Chris Larabee was in for a long painful recovery from the sunburn alone.
“Which way, Ma’am,” Tanner asked.
“Follow me,” she ordered as she led them into the house.
Standish and Dunne spotted the man lying in a pool of blood and the two men moved to check on him.
Sanchez, Jackson, Wilmington and Tanner followed the woman into the bedroom. Josiah hurried to the bed and gently placed his burden on the bed. He moved out of the way to give Jackson room to work.
“Have you been putting anything on the sunburn, Ma’am?” the former slave asked.
“I’ve been using the juice from the Canaigre plant. He’s sick, Mr...”
“Jackson, Ma’am, Nathan Jackson,” the healer said as he lifted Larabee’s eyelids.
“He’s pretty sick as well, Mr. Jackson. He can’t seem to keep much of anything down and he’s got a bad cough and the wound in his arm is infected and he’s got bruises and...” she knew she was rambling on, but couldn’t stop herself. “I’ve got more of the Osha roots on the stove,” she met the blue eyes of the moustached man. “It tastes bad, but it’s good for his cough.”
“Is he taking any water?” Jackson asked worriedly. He knew the heat he felt from the body wasn’t just from the sunburn, but the fever raging through him as well.
“A little. I’ve been giving him some of my fruit preserves as well. Made him some chicken broth, but not much stays where he puts it. He tries though...” she mumbled tiredly. She swayed on her feet and would have fallen but for the strong arms of Vin Tanner catching her.
“Ma’am, ya need ta rest,” Tanner told her.
“I’m okay. Just let me sit for a spell.”
“No, Ma’am, you let Vin help you to your room and lie down. You’ve done a lot for Chris and we’re mighty grateful for everything you done, but now you need to look after yourself,” Jackson explained.
She knew the soft spoken man was right and she let the tears fall from his eyes. “You’ll wake me if he needs me?” she asked.
“Yes, Ma’am,” Tanner assured her as he lead her from the room.
Jackson continued to check his injured friend. He lifted his head and met the worried gazes of each man. “He’s not doin’ very well. He’s got a high fever, the bullet wound on his arm is still slightly puffy and needs ta be drained again. The cuts and bruises are gonna make him sore, but they’ll heal. The sunburn is pretty bad, but she’s been doing well. What concerns me right now is getting liquids into him and making them stay there.”
“He’s gonna be okay though, right Nathan?” Dunne asked.
“That depends on how much fight he’s got left in him. Now there’s some things I need...”
“Anything, you need you’ll get, Mr. Jackson,” Standish assured the healer.
“Good. Okay, Josiah.”
“Yes, brother.”
“Can you see if there’s any Aloe plants nearby? I know she’s been using the Canaigre, but Aloe is easier.”
“I’ll get right on it. JD, why don’t you come with me?” Sanchez lead the youngest member of the seven out of the room.
“Buck, I think she’s got more of the Osha syrup on the stove. Pour a small amount into a cup and change the basin over there.”
“Right away, Nate,” Wilmington said, only to glad to have something to keep his mind off the shape his friend was in.
“Ezra, can you get my saddlebags?”
“Right away,. Mr. Jackson,” Standish hurried from the room as Tanner returned.
“What do ya need me ta do, Nate?” the tracker asked.
“Vin, I need clean water. Some for washing the dirt off him and some for him to drink.” Jackson watched the shaggy head bob once as the sharpshooter hurried from the room. He shook his head as he turned back to his patient. A few blisters had formed on his body, especially on his shoulders, which seemed to have taken the brunt of the hot sun. The shape his friend was in told him just how hard a journey he made before finding this woman. He knew she saved Larabee’s life and he was grateful. Now the fight was turned over to his hands. Jackson looked down at the steady fingers attached to the strong hands and wondered why he was able to do the things he did. Somehow he knew his father was right when he’d said he had a healer’s hands. Now he needed to believe that more than ever.
A weak cough and moan brought his attention back to the figure in the bed. He placed a hand under the hot neck and helped the blond sit forward. He listened to the tortured sounds coming from his friend’s chest. He looked up as Wilmington came into the room carrying a cup and a new basin of the Osha liquid.
“Easy, Chris, I got ya,” Jackson soothed as he held the lean form upright. “Buck give me that syrup.” He saw the tracker and the gambler come through the door. “Vin, I need the water as well,” he said as he accepted the Syrup from the ladies man. He knew the syrup would ease the cough, but remembered the awful taste. “Chris, I got somethin’ I need ya to drink,” the healer ordered.
Larabee felt hands touching him and wondered who the hell they were. He forced his heavy lids to open and looked around the room. His eyes fell on three men standing beside the bed. he turned and caught a glimpse of another man holding him. “N...No!” he rasped. The fever and illness raging through him, coupled with the injuries caused him to see nightmare images instead of the men he considered his friends, his family. Burke’s face became Fowlers who in turn changed to Ella Gaines. “B...bastards k...killed them...get away from them!” he cried out and tried to move out of the arms holding him.
“Chris!” Jackson continued to try and get through to the blond, but his words had no effect.
“Chris,” Tanner’s soft Texas drawl joined the healer’s voice as they tried to get through Larabee’s delirium. “Come on, Cowboy, it’s time ta stop fightin’ and let Nathan help ya!”
“No! Get away from them you son of a bitch!” Larabee screamed, his voice harsh in the small room. They could hear the strain on his abused throat as he fought with the former slave. “G...God, B...Buck, they’re burnin’. Help them, Buck! Please, God don’t let them burn!” he fought with everything his weakened body had. His chest heaved as he struggled to breath.
“Chris, it’s okay. I’m here,” Wilmington tried, replacing the tracker on the opposite side of the bed. “You’re safe.”
“Buck! Help me, Buck! Help me get them out!” Larabee hissed through grated teeth. He fought against the hands holding him. The fire raged through the house as he fought to save his wife and son.
“They’re out, Chris, they’re safe!” Wilmington hated lying to his friend and he prayed he was doing the right thing.
“What’s wrong?” they looked up as the woman came back into the room, fear in her eyes as she saw the fighting man on the bed.
“He’s delirious!” Jackson explained.
“He doesn’t seem to recognize us,” Buck told her.
“Let me in there,” she ordered and moved into the spot Wilmington vacated. She sat beside the trembling man and listened to his raspy voice as it cried out for the woman in his dreams. “Chris, its Abby. Come on now look at me,” she lifted his face until it was even with hers and waited for the eyes to open and focus on hers.
“A...Abby...” he sighed and let her wrap her arms around him.
“That’s right, Chris. Your friends are here,” she explained.
Larabee swallowed painfully, his throat clenching against the pain. “F...friends.”
“Hey, Stud.”
Larabee turned and looked at the dark haired man at the end of the bed. There was something familiar about the man, but he couldn’t quite grasp who he was. Pain lanced through his skull and he clenched his eyes tightly to avoid the spinning room.
“We got ya, Chris.”
Larabee looked towards the sound of the voice and his eyes made contact with a dark skinned man with soft brown eyes. Again he felt something familiar, but the memory remained elusive. His eyes moved around the room and fell on a younger man with long hair, again there was no name to match the face. The forth man was well dressed and Chris thought he must be a dandy.
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