"Chris!"
Chris Larabee turned and faced the young, dark haired Sheriff of Four Corners. "What is it, JD?" he asked impatiently. He'd just returned from a long day's riding and desperately needed a whiskey, something to cut through the dust and grit coating the back of his throat.
"I just got a wire from Judge Travis," Dunne told him.
"What's it say?" Chris asked as he continued into the saloon, his eyes quickly adjusting to the dim interior. He spotted the other members of the seven seated at various tables.
"He says there's a gang headed this way."
"Which one this time?" Chris asked as he made his way to the bar and reached for the shot glass the bartender automatically passed him. Chris tipped it back and swallowed the fiery liquid, passing the glass back for a refill.
"Archer and his bunch. They left Eagle Bend yesterday and they're supposed to be headed this way. Judge Travis said they were hell bent and lookin' to kill all of us," Dunne said.
"Did he say why?"
"No, he just says they are headed this way and that they were bragging about killing every member of the law in Four Corners. What are we gonna do, Chris?"
"I guess we're gonna ride out and meet Archer," Larabee said with a smile as he strode towards the table that housed Vin Tanner and Buck Wilmington.
"Hey, Chris, welcome back. How was the trip?"
"The trip was fine, Buck, but it looks like we may have a problem."
"What sorta problem?" Tanner asked, his senses suddenly alert for trouble.
"Seems like Gord Archer and his gang are gunning for us. Travis caught hold of the rumor in Eagle Bend and sent word to JD. How would you boys feel about riding out to meet them?"
"Sounds like a good idea to me," Wilmington said with a grin. "How much time we got?"
"According to the wire they left early yesterday. I figure we better leave now if we want to catch them before they make it to town. Meet me at the livery," the blond leader said as he turned to the other members of his team. "You boys heard?" he asked.
"We certainly did, Chris, Archer is one mean son of a bitch and I'd hate to see what he'd do if his gang made it to Four Corners," Sanchez said as he set his empty glass back on the table.
"Then let's ride," the blond ordered and knew without looking that the other six were following closely behind him.
Gunshots greeted their ears as the seven rounded a bend in the road. They quickly dismounted and hurried to find cover. They were at a disadvantage because there was very little cover to protect them from the oncoming riders. The gang had the higher ground and could fire down on the seven lawmen.
Chris fired and was rewarded when one of the men yelped and fell from his horse, scattering the others and making them find cover. A bullet whistled past his right ear and he swore sharply. "On your left, Buck," he yelled as he spotted one of the gang moving towards the ladies man. Buck whirled and fired, grinning at the blond as his bullet found its mark in the outlaw's chest.
"JD, get yer head down!" Tanner yelled as he fired at a gunman trying to reach the youngest member of the seven.
"Thanks," JD yelled as he watched the man drop to the ground, a red stain blossoming on his chest.
"Nathan's been hit," Standish yelled as he watched the healer drop heavily to the ground, a barrage of gunshots making it impossible for him to reach the downed man.
"I got him," Sanchez said as he hurried to help the healer.
"Chris, they got us pinned down here," Buck yelled as he shot at an approaching outlaw.
"We've got to try and get in behind them," Larabee yelled as he took a shot at another advancing outlaw. He smiled as the man yelled and grabbed his arm.
"Any idea how we do that?" Wilmington asked.
"You got any of that dynamite you found in the old miner's shack yesterday?" the blond asked as a plan formulated in his mind.
"Might have a stick or two. Why?"
"Figure maybe I'd get above them and put some of those rocks between them and us. Maybe give us a chance to gain the high ground."
"That could work," Wilmington said, grabbing his arm as a bullet found it's way into his shoulder. "Damn!" he said as he gripped his bloodied arm.
"You alright, Buck?" JD cried.
"I'm fine, Kid, just keep yer damn fool head down before ya get it shot off," Wilmington ordered as a bullet ripped past the younger man's head.
"Where's the dynamite, Buck?" Larabee asked.
"On my horse," Wilmington answered and saw the concern in the gunslinger's eyes. "I'm okay, Chris. Get that dynamite and show us what ya got in mind."
"Keep me covered," Larabee said as he moved from his meager cover and headed for the horses. He ducked as a bullet tore splinters from a rock on his right, a few burying themselves in his forehead. He ignored the pain and unconsciously swiped at the blood as he made it to Wilmington's horse. He dug through the saddlebags in search of the dynamite. He heard the battle taking place and hoped they succeeded in taking the gang down before they lost any of their own team. He pushed the worry for Nathan and Buck and the rest of his friends to the back of his mind, knowing he needed to concentrate on what he was about to do.
Larabee made his way back to the battle, pausing to check on the healer, "How is he?"
"The bullet went right through," Sanchez said as he held a cloth to the wounds in front and back of the healer's thigh.
"I'm fine, Chris. How's Buck?"
"Took a bullet in the shoulder but he's still not out," the blond said with a grin.
"You hurt?" the healer asked as he noticed the trail of blood running from the leader's forehead.
"Just a scratch," the blond answered as he wiped the blood from his eyes.
"What are you gonna do with those?" Sanchez asked as he spotted the sticks of dynamite held tightly in the blond's hands.
"I figure it's time we took back the advantage. Going to send a few of those rocks down on top of 'em," he said, a cocky grin plastered on his face. "Keep me covered," he told Sanchez as he hurried back to the rock he'd been using for cover.
"Give me one of 'em," Tanner ordered as he watched his best friend move past him.
"I've got it, Vin," Larabee said as another barrage of bullets sounded around them.
"It might be better if'n we set 'em off together. Gives us a better chance of succeedin'."
"You're probably right, Vin, let's go," the leader said as he passed the younger man one of the explosives.
Vin Tanner was a natural climber, having spent most of his life in the outdoors. Chris knew from experience that the young man would find handholds that no one else would have thought to use. He followed the tracker up the slope, watching as the lean body slid from side to side as he easily made it to the top.
Vin stopped and took the matches from his pocket. Lighting the stick of Dynamite as he watched his friend make his way towards him. The fuse started to spark and the tracker stood up to throw the explosive.
Chris looked up as his friend stood and held the dynamite over his shoulder. A yell of surprise reached his ears as the younger man suddenly toppled backwards the dynamite flying over his shoulder to land a few feet away from where the blond stood.
Chris tried to move away, but the force of the explosion drove him backwards into a large rock that protruded from the hillside. A muffled cry of pain escaped his lips as the impact with the rock drove the air from his lungs.
Vin lay on the ground holding his injured arm, breathing raggedly as he tried to ignore the stabbing pain. He wondered why he didn't hear his friend coming towards him. He knew there was no way Chris could have missed his being shot and wondered what was keeping him. His mind replayed the last few minutes and he suddenly realized he hadn't thrown the dynamite where he was supposed to. The explosive had left his hand and landed behind him. "Chris," he screamed the name as he jumped to his feet, ignoring the powerful jolt of pain in his own arm. He looked around the ledge ignoring the sounds of the battle below him. His eyes raked over the rugged terrain in search of the one man who meant so much to him. "Oh, God," he cried as his eyes fell on the unmoving body of the blond. Moving as fast as he could he slipped across the hillside and sank down beside his friend. "Chris! Come on, Cowboy, answer me!" Tanner exclaimed.
"Vin," Larabee said as he opened his eyes and tried to move.
"Stay still, Chris," Tanner ordered, scared by the sudden fear that crept into his friend's eyes. "What?" he asked worriedly.
"I can't move my legs, Vin," the blond said as he struggled up on his elbows, pain flaring in his lower back.
"Just lie still!" Tanner warned as he sat beside his friend.
"Take the dynamite and finish the job, Tanner," Larabee ordered as heard the gunfire from below.
"In a minute. I want to check your back first," the tracker said.
"No, Vin, you have to finish it! Buck and the others need you. I'll be here when you get it done," Larabee said, a grimace of pain on his pale face.
"I can't, Chris," Tanner said as he spotted the hated stick next to his friend's body.
"You have to, Vin!" Larabee hissed as he heard the gambler cry out. "They're gonna be killed down there."
"I...I..."
"Damnit, Vin, do it or so help me I'll make you sorry we ever met!" Larabee spat as his green eyes filled with smouldering anger.
"But..."
"No! Just do it now before the others are killed! I'll never forgive you if that happens, Vin. You're the only one who can save them. Please," the leader begged as he tried to ignore the growing discomfort in his back.
"Alright," Tanner said as he grabbed the small stick, the twin of the one that had damaged his friend. He stuffed the stick into his belt and made his way up the hill. It took longer to reach the summit because of the injury to his right arm. He slowly lit the fuse and once more stood to throw the explosive. This time there was no spark of pain as he threw the dynamite at the pile of loose rocks and rubble. He watched as the explosion loosened the pile even more and sent it flying down the hill. He was rewarded by the cries of alarm and pain from the outlaws who'd taken refuge below them. He watched as the remaining outlaws mounted their horses and raced away from the area.
"Vin, Chris, are you guys okay?" Wilmington's voice called from below, breaking through the tracker's thoughts.
"You did it! They're gone," Dunne shouted as he moved towards the base of the hill directly below the silent tracker.
"Vin, where's Chris?" Wilmington asked, worried that he saw only one man standing above them. "Vin!" he repeated as he started up the hill.
"I don't think that's a good idea, Mr. Wilmington," Standish said as he joined Buck and JD at the base. "Perhaps I could be of some assistance," he said as he pressed a cloth to the bullet graze on his head.
"You sure you can manage it?" Wilmington asked.
"Ezra, stay where you are. I'll check on Chris and Vin," Sanchez said as he helped a limping Nathan Jackson towards the group.
"I'm fine, Mr. Sanchez," Standish said, but staggered as the words left his mouth. "Perhaps not," he said and sank to the ground.
"All of you wait here," the ex-preacher ordered as he looked at the battered group. "JD, make sure they do as they're told."
"Sure, Josiah," the sheriff said as he helped Buck sit next to the healer, who was examining the wound to Standish's head.
Josiah began climbing the hill as lithely as Tanner had done not long before. He reached the spot where the stick of dynamite exploded and his eyes were drawn to the man dressed in black lying ten feet away. He looked up at the unmoving tracker and wondered what happened. He turned back to the leader and crawled sideways towards him. The gunslinger's face was covered in sweat and dirt; his eyes clenched tight, causing lines to crease his brow. "Chris," Sanchez said as he tore a piece from his shirt and wiped the blood from the man's forehead. He knew the tiny wound was not the source of the pain that showed on his face.
"Josiah, everyone okay?" Larabee asked through clenched teeth.
"Everyone's fine thanks to you and Vin. A few knocks but they'll make it. Now where are you hurt?" he asked.
"My back. C...can't seem to move my legs. Where's Vin?"
"He's up top. Probably making sure Archer and his bunch are gone. Here he comes now," Sanchez said as he worriedly examined the blond.
"Christ, Vin, why didn't ya say you were hurt?" Larabee asked as he once again tried to get up, groaning as the effort brought the pain slamming back.
"Easy, Chris, just lie still for a minute until I check your back. How bad is it, Vin?" Sanchez asked as he noticed the blood soaked tracker.
"It's fine," the young man answered in a quiet, unemotional voice. He slowly knelt beside his friend, his face unreadable as he felt the guilt of Chris Larabee's injury weigh heavily on his mind.
"Chris, I'm gonna reach under your back and see if I can find out what the problem is. Think you can stand my touch for a couple of minutes?" Sanchez asked.
The blond nodded his head, his face a grimace of pure agony as Josiah Sanchez slipped his hand underneath his back.
Josiah slid his hand along the leader's lower back, hiding his fear at the wet sticky substance he encountered. Slowly he withdrew his hand and tried to hide the evidence before the other two men saw it.
"Josiah?" Chris asked and Sanchez realized he hadn't been fast enough.
"I'm gonna need some help to see just how bad it is. Vin, can you go down and send JD up here?"
"I can do it, Josiah," Tanner said as he held his friend's shoulders.
"No, Vin, you're hurt," Larabee hissed through clenched teeth.
"I said I'm fine, Chris, now you just hang on and let me and Josiah look after you," the tracker said, his voice still without emotion.
"Vin, we're gonna have enough to deal with as it is. Besides you won't be able to hold him still with that arm and he won't be able to stand it if you let him fall back," Sanchez said. "Go send JD up here and then turn that mind of yours towards thinking of a way to get Chris down from here and back to town."
Tanner looked into the pain filled green eyes of his friend, guilt gnawed at his insides as he realized he was the one who'd put the pain in them. Without a word he turned from the older man and stumbled down the hill towards the group waiting below.
"Something ain't right with him, Josiah," Larabee hissed.
"He'll be fine, Brother, it's you we need to worry about right now. Can you move your legs at all?"
Chris concentrated on moving his legs, but gave up after a few minutes, shaking his head in frustration as he lay back against the hard ground, breathing rapidly from the exertion. "Can't," he said simply.
"JD, Josiah needs you to help him with Chris," Tanner said as he joined the others.
"Okay," the young sheriff said and hurried up the hill.
"Vin, what's wrong with Chris?" Wilmington asked, his hand on his injured shoulder.
"I hurt him," Tanner said softly as his mind replayed the first sight of his friend's prone body.
"What do ya mean ya hurt him?" Wilmington asked worriedly.
"Hurt his back. My fault. Threw the dynamite the wrong way," Tanner said as he walked away from the others.
"Vin, get back here and sit down. I need to take a look at that shoulder!" Jackson ordered from his perch on a small, upended tree stump.
"Shoulder's fine," Tanner said, stopping and gazing up the hill as JD Dunne reached Sanchez and Larabee.
"No it's not and it's still bleeding. Now get back here ya damn fool!" Jackson snapped impatiently.
Tanner turned back towards the healer and slowly walked towards him. Nathan Jackson hated the blank look he saw on the younger man's face. He seemed to have withdrawn from them and Nathan wondered what happened to cause the tracker to do so.
"What do you need me to do, Josiah?" Dunne asked. "Hey, Chris, you alright?"
"Fine," Larabee lied.
"Chris."
"Yeah, Josiah."
"This may get a little uncomfortable but I need to see just how bad it is," Sanchez said.
"I hate it when Nathan says a little uncomfortable. It usually means it's gonna hurt like hell. Alright, Josiah, let's get it done," Larabee said.
"JD, I want you to let him rest against you when I lift him up."
"Sure, Josiah," Dunne said, his eyes wide and fearful.
"Ready, Chris?"
"Ready as I'll ever be," Larabee said, shutting his eyes against the oncoming pain he'd have to endure.
Sanchez lifted the injured man as gently as possible, ignoring the small moans that crept past the leader's mouth. After what felt like an eternity he had Chris leaning against the youngest member of the group, his injured back visible for Sanchez's perusal. Slowly he lifted the blood soaked black duster to reveal the torn black shirt. He winced as he saw the large gash running from hip to hip. The cut was shallow in places running deeper towards the middle, blood welling up and flowing down the man's back to well up at the waist of his black jeans.
Again he ignored the muffled cries of pain as he lifted the shirt away from the wound. The worst part seemed to be in the center, close to the spine. Here the wound was deep and open, dark purple bruises spreading outwards from this central point. He ripped his own shirt and placed the material against the wound hoping to stop the continued loss of blood.
"How b...bad, Josiah?" Larabee gasped.
"Ain't gonna lie to ya, Brother. You got one hell of a cut on your back. Lots of bruises as well. I'm gonna have to get Nathan's kit and see if I can stop the bleeding. You think you can lie on your side for me?"
"Think so," the blond answered.
"I can hold him, Josiah," Dunne said as he felt the tremors in his mentor's body.
"Let's just lay him down on his side," Sanchez said as he slowly lowered Chris Larabee onto his side, placing his head in JD's lap. "You stay still, Chris," Sanchez ordered.
"Don't seem to have much choice," Larabee said as he closed his eyes and tried to ride out the sharp pain in his back.
"JD, make sure he stays where he is," Sanchez ordered.
"I will, Josiah," JD said and unconsciously flicked at a strand of sweat soaked blond hair. "You okay, Chris?" he asked.
"Fine, JD," Larabee answered in his usual way. "What's wrong with Nathan and the others?" he asked, knowing something was keeping the healer from coming up to check on him.
JD knew he wouldn't be able to lie to the injured man so he began listing off the injuries, "Nathan took a bullet in the leg. Ezra's head was grazed. Buck and Vin both took one in the shoulder."
"Damn! What about you, JD?" Larabee asked worriedly.
"I'm fine, Chris, not even a scratch," Dunne reassured the older man.
"G...good!" Larabee hissed as he tried to find a more comfortable position on the hard, slanted ground.
"Stay still, Chris," Dunne warned, watching as Chris's hands clenched in the folds of his duster.
"How is he, Josiah?" Jackson asked, surprised that the young tracker didn't ask first.
"His back's bad, Nathan, and he's in a lot of pain. There's a lot of bruises and one hell of a cut running along his lower back, just above the waist. He can't seem to move his legs."
"Damn, get me up there," Jackson ordered as he struggled to get to his feet.
"Don't be foolish, Nate, it's too steep. I need your medical kit and we need to figure a way to get him off that hill."
"Alright, Josiah. We'll figure something out. Can he move at all?"
"He's moving his arms and head and everything else above the waist," Sanchez said as he took the medical kit from the healer.
"How bad is the cut?" Jackson asked, knowing the others were leaving it to him to get the information he needed to help their friend.
"It's shallow except in the middle. He's probably gonna need stitches. We're gonna need a wagon to get him back to town."
"I can ride," Standish offered.
"How's the head?" Jackson asked.
"Fine, no dizziness or blurred vision," Standish answered.
"Alright, Ezra, you ride into Four Corners and bring back a wagon and see if you can get some of the men to come help us out here," Jackson said as he watched Standish make his way to his horse. "Oh, Ezra, send a wire to Eagle Bend and see if Dr. Metcalf can lend us a hand for a few days," Jackson said as the pain in his own leg intensified.
"I shall endeavor to carry out your request without delay," Standish said as he hurried off.
"I have to get back to Chris," Sanchez said. "How's he?" he asked, indicating the quiet tracker sitting off on his own.
"He's shouldering the guilt of what happened to Chris," Jackson said.
"Figured as much. Guilt and Vin Tanner go hand in hand when it comes to Chris Larabee," Sanchez said as he hurried towards the hill.
"Josiah, give him some Laudanum for the pain," Jackson told the retreating man.
"Josiah's coming back, Chris," Dunne said.
"O...kay," the blond mumbled, barely conscious.
"How are you feeling," JD asked continuing his constant litany in order to keep the blond's mind off his pain.
"Been better, JD," Chris told him, groaning loudly as a fierce throbbing pain stung his lower back.
"Chris, I have something here I need you to take," Sanchez said as he reached the two men and knelt beside the fallen leader.
"What is it?"
"Laudanum, just a little now so I can work on your back," Sanchez explained as he placed a small bottle in front of the gunslinger's mouth.
Larabee gazed into the ex-preacher's eyes. He was on the verge of refusing but the pain in his lower back made him reconsider as JD helped lift his head. Chris swallowed the noxious liquid, grimacing from the taste. "How is everyone?" he asked weakly.
"Well Nathan's been playin' doctor and he managed to fix up Buck's shoulder. It'll do 'til we get to town. The bullet went right through Nathan's leg but he won't be standing on it anytime soon. Ezra was grazed by a bullet but nothing serious. He's gone back to town to get a wagon."
"Vin?"
"He's being his usual stubborn, pig-headed self," Sanchez grinned.
"Blames himself," Larabee said, as his eyes grew heavy. "Did Nate look at his shoulder?"
"Not yet. The damned fool won't let anyone help him right now. You stop worryin' about Vin. I'm gonna clean the wound in your back now and I need you to stay real still for me. Think you can do that?"
"I'll try, Josiah," Larabee groaned, closing his eyes.
"JD, you keep him quiet for a minute," the ex-preacher ordered as he lifted the edge of the black duster. He used a clean cloth and began to wash the area around the wound.
Dunne swallowed worriedly as he watched the older man's hands work on the wound. The cloth came away soaked in the gunslinger's blood. "Josiah, is it still bleeding?"
"Not as much as it was, JD. How're you doing, Chris?" Sanchez asked as the gunslinger craned his neck and looked over his shoulder at the ex-preacher.
Larabee smiled weakly as his eye's met the older mans. "Okay," he gasped as he felt a cloth pressed against the seeping wound.
"JD, I'm gonna need your help now, Son."
"What do you want me to do, Josiah?"
"I'm gonna lift Chris up a bit and I need you to wrap this bandage around him," Sanchez ordered. "Think you can do it?"
"Sure," Dunne answered as he took the white cloth from the older man.
"Alright, Chris, just hang onto my arms and I'll lift you forward."
Larabee placed his hands on the ex-preacher's arms and clenched his teeth as he was lifted away from JD. He bit back a scream as the pain in his back increased with each upward movement.
"JD, come on, Son, get it done," Sanchez ordered.
"Huh? Oh sorry," Dunne apologized and carefully wrapped the bandage around his mentor's waist.
"Make sure it's tight, JD," Josiah warned, ignoring the gasps of pain issuing from the injured blond.
"All done," JD cried as he finished tying off the ends.
"T...thanks," the gunslinger gasped as Josiah laid his head back against the younger man's lap. It wasn't long before the laudanum did its work and the blond succumbed to unconsciousness.
The ex-preacher picked up one of the clean bandages and poured water onto it from the canteen. He slowly began wiping the beads of perspiration from the sweat soaked forehead. The heat emanating from the man had little to do with the heat of the day. Josiah knew from experience that Larabee was already sporting a fever. The small cut on his forehead had finally stopped bleeding and he washed the remainder of the blood away.
"How's he doing, Josiah?" Jackson called from the base of the hill.
"Not too well, Nathan. I think I got the bleeding stopped but he's got a hell of a fever already."
"Damn! Ezra better hurry up with that wagon," Wilmington cursed his own injury and his inability to help his friend.
"Vin, get over here right now!" Jackson ordered as he saw the tracker's face contort in pain.
"I did that to him," the tracker whispered as he looked up the hill.
Wilmington swore at the sorrowful voice of the sharpshooter, "Vin, it wasn't your fault. Damn, Son, you got shot. Do you really think Chris is gonna hold that against you?"
"He will if'n he can't walk no more," Tanner glared at Wilmington, tears in his eyes.
"He's gonna walk again, Vin. Ya gotta believe that. I ain't givin' up on him and neither should you."
"Ya didn't see him, Buck. Ya didn't hear his voice when he said he couldn't move his legs. He sounded scared for a minute and that jest ain't Chris," Tanner said as he stood up and held his hand to his shoulder.
"Vin, let Nate have a look at ya 'til we get back to town," Wilmington ordered.
"Ain't goin' back ta town, Buck. Ain't nothin' there fer me now. Not since I crippled my best friend," Tanner said as he swayed drunkenly towards his horse.
"Never thought you were a coward, Tanner."
Wilmington's deadly whisper cut through the tracker's self recrimination and the younger man strode purposefully towards him. "Ain't no coward, Wilmington!"
"What else would you call it? You're runnin' out just when the man you call your best friend needs you most."
"Shut up, Buck!" Tanner shouted.
"Hey, you two pipe down. Vin get over here. I ain't in the mood for none of your foolishness," Jackson yelled.
"Well, it's your call, Tanner. Let Nate help you or run out like a coward," Wilmington said calmly.
"How do I face him, Buck," the tracker asked in a defeated voice.
"That's easy, Pard. The hard part's gonna be facin' yourself. You're gonna have to realize what happened was an accident and Chris is gonna need you there to help him. I hate to say it, Vin, but you're the only one who can make him slow down and do as he's told. You're kin to him, Son, and he listens to you whether you realize it or not. Now what's it gonna be?"
Tanner looked up the hill, his eyes falling on the three silent figures fifty or so feet above them. Slowly turning away he walked the few feet and sat beside Nathan Jackson.
"'Bout damn time you came to your senses, Vin. Now let me see what kinda damage you done to this by not lettin' me look at it right away," Jackson said as he helped the younger man out of his buckskin jacket. "It's a wonder you can still stand, all the blood you lost. Buck, hold this to his arm 'til I see if there's an exit wound."
"Ain't no exit wound," Tanner grated out as Jackson put pressure on the shoulder.
"Damn fool," Jackson swore as the tracker slid the rest of the way to the ground. "Gimme a hand here, Buck," the healer ordered.
"What do you need me to do, Nate?"
"Just keep pressure here for a minute."
"You gonna take that bullet out?"
"I'm gonna give it a try," Jackson told him. "Josiah, can you bring my kit down here?"
"What's wrong, Nate?" came the answering shout.
"Gotta get the bullet outta Vin's shoulder."
Sanchez looked down at the gunslinger as the man's eyes opened.
"Vin. Shot. Help him, Josiah," his pain filled voice gasped.
"You have to stay real still, Chris. JD, you make sure he doesn't try to move around."
"I will, Josiah," Dunne told him.
"Tell V...Vin I a...ain't mad," Larabee said as he slipped back into unconsciousness.
"He knows, Brother, he knows. JD, call if he needs anything."
"Okay, Josiah," the kid said and watched Sanchez move quickly down the hill.
"Buck, you get outta the way now, ya hear? You only got one good arm and I don't want to have to redo all that hard work. Josiah, hold him still and I'll see if I can get the bullet."
"You sure you want to try this, Nathan?"
"Don't have much choice, Josiah. He's still losin' blood and I don't think we can wait for the doc from Eagle Bend."
"Alright, Nate, whenever you're ready," Sanchez told him.
"Hold him down," Jackson ordered as he began probing the swollen wound.
A knifing pain suddenly dispatched the warm blanket he'd been languishing in and he tried to bolt upright.
"Steady there, Vin. Nathan's just gonna get rid of the bullet in your shoulder. Figure you'll feel a lot better without the added lead," Sanchez said softly. His hands keeping the younger man pinned.
"H...hurts, J...Josiah," the weak voice cried out as Nathan gave one final tug and pulled the bullet free.
"Got it, Vin," Jackson said, his voice betraying the pain he felt from his own wound. "Help me bandage it, Josiah. Then we're gonna need to secure his arm to his chest so he don't jostle it around too much."
JD sat with the three sleeping men at the base of the hill. Josiah sent him down when he returned from helping Jackson. He looked at his three charges, relieved that they all seemed to be resting. Once in a while a small moan or gasp would escape one of the injured men and he'd give him a drink of the tepid water in his canteen and watch them drift back to sleep. His eyes would then sweep the road looking for sign of Standish's return. He lifted his eyes and looked towards the two men fifty feet above. He'd heard Josiah's soft lilting voice as he spoke to the injured man he held.
Dunne's glance fell on the tracker. He seemed so vulnerable in his sleep. JD always thought of Vin as being one of the older men but seeing him as he now was brought home just how close they were in age. He knew there couldn't be more than five or six years between them yet Vin had seen and done so much more than he had.
"V...Vin, NO!"
"Hey there, Chris, 'bout time you rejoined us," Sanchez said as he watched the younger man's face contort in pain.
"J...Josiah?" the blond asked as he opened his eyes.
"How you feeling?" Sanchez inquired, smiling at the gunslinger.
"Not to g...good r...right now, Josiah," he groaned and tried to move.
"Don't try to move around, Chris. You don't want to set that wound bleeding again," Sanchez told him.
"Damn, J...Josiah. F...feels like my b...backs on fire," the blond gasped.
"You've got to try and stay as still as possible 'til help gets here, Chris."
"I'm t...trying. H...how are the others? Vin?"
"Nathan took the bullet out of his shoulder. JD's down there with them now and they seem to be sleeping which is something you should be doing," Sanchez told him.
"The kid okay?"
"The kid's doing fine. He's looking after those three and doing a great job of it."
"Damn, J...Josiah," Larabee cried as he tried to sit up.
"No you don't. Lie still. Here take a little of this," Sanchez said as he placed the almost empty bottle of Laudanum to the moaning man's mouth. Chris swallowed the last of the liquid and waited for the relief it usually brought.
The ex-preacher saw the grimace of pain on the gunslinger's face and took his hand in his own. "Concentrate on my hand, Chris. Squeeze it if you have to," he ordered and almost immediately felt the other man's grip tighten.
"Josiah, I think Ezra's coming back," Dunne's excited voice broke through the fist of pain that held the gunslinger in its grip.
"You hear that, Chris? Help's on the way. Now you just relax and we'll have you off this hill in no time."
"T...thanks, Josiah," the blond gasped, his eyes clenched tightly against the onslaught of more pain.
Sanchez watched as a small contingent of men hurried towards them. Ezra Standish rode ahead of the column. Two wagons came into view and Sanchez smiled as he made out the form of Mary Travis at the reins of the first one and Yosemite driving the other. Four other men from town rode on horseback and Sanchez was grateful for the help.
Mary stopped the wagon directly in front of the wounded men, her worried gaze searching for the blond gunslinger. Her eyes drifted up the hill, coming to rest on the two dark forms there, Chris, she thought, biting her bottom lip.
Nathan Jackson opened his eyes, relieved to see help had finally arrived. Even in his own weakened state he gave orders on how to proceed. "Get Vin and Buck into one of the wagons. Then we gotta see about getting Chris down off the damn hill."
"Nathan, there's nothing you can do right now except let the men get you in one of the wagons. Yosemite and the others will help Josiah bring Chris down," Mary assured him.
"I can ride my horse," Wilmington hissed as he was helped to his feet.
"Oh no you don't, Buck! You and Vin are going to ride in the back of a wagon," Mary ordered, placing her hands on her hips. "Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, Ma'am," Wilmington smiled, not wanting to admit just how lousy he felt.
Vin Tanner opened his eyes and looked around, his eyes finally focusing on the newcomers. "We gotta get Chris," he rasped.
"You're not doing anything except letting us put you in the wagon," Mary ordered.
"I'm fine," Tanner lied.
"And I don't have time to listen to anyone else saying I'm fine. Now all of you listen up. I'm not going to listen to anyone with a bullet hole or any other wound for that matter and that goes for you too, Nathan Jackson. Right now the only people I'll listen to are Josiah and JD. Yosemite get them into the wagons," Mary ordered.
"M...Mary...here?"
Sanchez gazed into the glazed green eyes. "Yes, she is and it looks like she's taken charge."
"D...damn wish I c...could see that."
"You're going to get your wish. She's on her way up here with Tiny and Willy," the ex-preacher told him, relieved to see the two men carrying a flat door between them.
"Josiah, how is he?"
"Hi M...Mary," the gunslinger grated through clenched teeth as he tried to lift his head off the other man's lap.
"Lie still, Chris," Mary ordered.
"Not much choice there," he told her.
"Chris, we're going to put you on the board and get you down from here," Sanchez told him. "You just relax and let us do everything, okay?"
"Okay, Josiah," Larabee answered, fisted hands tightly held against his sides as he felt his body lifted onto the board. Sweat ran down his forehead, stinging his eyes as it seeped through his half opened lids.
Mary watched the handsome face contort in pain as the three men lifted him off the ground and onto the makeshift stretcher. Her heart ached as she watched him struggle to keep from crying out.
"Tiny, you and Willy hold that end. Chris, we'll have you down in a few minutes."
The gunslinger heard the words but couldn't find the strength to answer him. He floated on a sea of misery as he fought to stem the growing pain flaring in his back.
Six men watched from below as Josiah, Tiny, and Willy lifted the door and slowly made their way down the hill. The muffled cries of pain reached the ears of each man and they knew this was a ride in torment for Chris Larabee.
I did that to him. My fault! Oh, God, I'm sorry, Chris! Tanner thought as he slid from the wagon and tried to go to his friend.
"Vin, stay here. You'll just be in the way," Jackson ordered, his own voice filled with worry as he watched the men pick their way carefully down the hill.
The tracker stopped where he was, knowing in his heart the healer was right, but unable to stop the agonizing pain in his heart at the sight of the group coming towards him. "Chris," he screamed as Willy lost his footing and it seemed the others would follow him to the ground. An audible sigh of relief came from everyone's lips, as Josiah and Tiny were able to hold their footing and keep the blond from being injured further.
The waiting men held their collective breaths as the three finished the trip down the hill. By the time they reached the bottom and placed Chris in the wagon with Nathan, the blond was covered in sweat, his face drawn up in a tight grimace, and his hands still clenched tightly at his side.
"Ezra, did you send a telegram to Eagle Bend?"
"I did, Mr. Jackson, but we didn't wait around for an answer."
"Did you tell him about Chris?"
"I did indeed. I also informed him there were others injured as well. I thought you could all use some of this," he grinned as he held up the tiny bottle of laudanum.
"Thank you, Ezra," Jackson said gratefully as he turned his attention to the pale, trembling form next to him. "Chris?"
"Y...yeah," came the weak reply.
"We're going to head back to Four Corners. Now I'm goin to give you a little more laudanum. Hopefully it'll make the trip a bit easier on you."
"W...where's, Vin?" the gunslinger asked as he opened his eyes and sought out the slim form of the tracker.
"R...right here, Chris," Tanner answered from the side of the wagon.
"Y...you alright?"
"I'm fine," Tanner answered in a quiet tone.
"N...not fine. I k...know you, V...Vin. N...o guilt. N...not your f...fault," he groaned as his body was awash with new pain.
"Chris, take this," Jackson ordered.
Larabee lifted his head and opened his eyes as he looked around at his friends, taking careful note of the injuries his men had received at the hands of the gang of outlaws. "Buck, y...you okay?"
"Fine, Chris, you do what Nathan says and take the Laudanum."
The green eyes came to rest on the healer. "Nathan, you a...alright?"
"I'm fine, Chris."
Larabee laughed weakly as he closed his eyes. "Y...you're as bad as the r...rest of us."
"Chris, open up," Jackson ordered, a small smile on his face as the truth of the gunslinger's words sank in. He'd just told them he was fine when he actually felt lousy.
Larabee swallowed a small amount of the liquid. "T...the rest of y...you n...need it too," his eyes snapped open as he remembered the other injured man. "Ezra, okay?"
"I'm fine, Mr. Larabee, nothing but a small laceration."
"Glad e...everyone's f...fine cause I feel like shit," he groaned as he let the encroaching darkness flood over him. His last conscious thought was of Mary and he hoped his language wouldn't offend her.
The ride back to town was slow as JD, Josiah, Ezra, and Mary kept checking on the injured men. Chris seemed to sleep through the long, uncomfortable ride, only the low moans telling the others he was actually aware of the motion of the wagon.
Finally the tiny street fires came into view. A welcome sight to the group of weary travellers. The wagons pulled up in front of Nathan Jackson's clinic.
"Nathan, I'm going to get Inez and see if we can make up some sandwiches for all of you," Mary told him as she left her horse tied to the hitching post.
"Thanks, Mary, that would be great. Vin, Buck, I want you two up in the clinic. Josiah, you and Yosemite carry Chris upstairs and put him on the bed. Ezra, I want to check the wound on your head. JD, go check with Mrs. Potter and see if there's been any word from Dr. Metcalf. The rest of you round up as many bandages as you can and bring me fresh water as well."
"Nathan..."
"Vin, don't argue with me. My leg's hurting something fierce right now and I ain't in the mood to listen to how fine you are. You and Buck just get upstairs 'til I get a chance to look at you," Jackson's patience with stubborn men had finally reached its limit as Josiah and Yosemite lifted the door from the wagon and carried the sleeping gunslinger up the stairs.
Nathan slid towards the edge of the wagon, unsure if he'd be able to stand on his own two feet. He landed on the ground, groaning as pain lanced through the wound.
"Lean on me, Nathan."
Jackson smiled at the youngest member of the team. "Thanks, JD, just get me up to the clinic and then go check with Mrs. Potter."
"I will," Dunne assured him as they slowly climbed the stairs behind Tanner and Wilmington.
Sanchez met them at the top and wrapped his arm around the healer's waist, supporting him into the clinic.
"I'll be right back," Dunne said and relinquished care of the healer to the older man before hurrying from the clinic.
Josiah slid Jackson into the chair they'd placed beside the bed Larabee rested on. "You all right, Nathan?" Sanchez asked.
"Not really, Josiah, but I need to check everyone over before I take my own advice," the healer told him. "Can you and Yosemite turn Chris on his stomach. I need to see what kind of damage he's done. Just be careful."
"Yosemite, help me out here," Sanchez ordered and the two men gently turned the now semi-conscious man on his stomach.
"W...where..."
"You're at Nathan's clinic, Chris. Now just lie still and let him take a look at you."
"J...Josiah, everyone okay?"
"Everyone's fine," the ex-preacher assured him.
"Nathan, are you alright?" Tanner asked as he watched the healer's face suddenly go slack.
Sanchez caught Jackson as he slid from the chair.
"Damn, Josiah, put him over here," Wilmington ordered and stood away from the bed. He looked from the now unconscious healer to the conscious gunslinger. What more? he thought as JD hurried into the room.
"Mrs. Potter said Dr. Metcalf would be here sometime late tomorrow afternoon," the youth explained breathlessly. "What's wrong with Nathan?" he asked.
"Nathan was shot too, Kid," Tanner explained as he knelt beside the bed where the blond was trembling uncontrollably.
"He's n...not d..."
"No, kid, he's not dead. Just exhausted and running a fever," Wilmington explained as he watched Sanchez care for the healer. The other men returned with the bandages, ice and anything they thought might be useful in treating the injured peacekeepers.
Josiah set about changing the healer's bandages before turning back to the other bed. "Chris," he said as he knelt on the opposite side of the bed from the pale tracker.
"Is Nathan okay?" the blond asked.
"He's going to be fine."
"L...lied about b...being fine," Larabee's pain filled eyes showed a trace of amusement.
"He did at that," the older man laughed. "Seems like we've been rubbing off on him. I'm going to check your back and change the bandages."
"Okay," the injured man moaned as Sanchez and Tanner pulled his duster from him. As gently as possible they removed his shirt by cutting down the center instead of trying to lift him.
Tanner stifled a gasp as he got his first look at the injuries to the gunslinger's back. He knew Chris must've sliced it against the sharp rocks as he was thrown backwards. Deep purple and black bruises surrounded the open wound. "Damn," he groaned aloud as he closed his eyes against the all too vivid memories of the gunslinger lying so still against the rocks. He opened his eyes as a hand rested on his shoulder.
"T...told you i...it's not y...your fault," Larabee gasped reassuringly.
"Yes it is, Chris. I'm the one who dropped the dynamite. Shoulda been more careful."
"You were shot, Brother. Not much you could've done to stop what happened."
"A...accident, Vin," Larabee locked his gaze on the pain filled blue eyes, sending the truth of his words through the strong resonance.
"Vin, let Yosemite in there. I'm gonna need his help keeping Chris still."
"I can do it, Josiah."
"I don't doubt you could, but I don't want to be the one explaining to Nathan why your arm's bleeding again."
"It's okay, Vin," Larabee assured him.
"I'll be right here, Cowboy," Tanner promised, standing behind Yosemite as he slid into place and held Larabee's upper body still. His eyes turned to the gunslinger's legs as Sanchez cleaned and bandaged the wound. The lack of movement from the lower half of his friend's body once more reminded Vin of the reason for his guilty feelings. Should never have happened, he thought angrily.
Two hours later found Josiah Sanchez and JD Dunne keeping watch over the five injured peacekeepers. Chris and Nathan occupied the bed and the cot but they'd managed to get the others placed around the room on makeshift bedrolls. Mary and Inez had brought sandwiches and broth to the clinic. It took some doing, but they managed to get something into each man. Even Chris swallowed a small amount of broth and a partial cup of one of Nathan's teas. Josiah was equally grateful to the two women for their help in caring for each of the men. Nathan roused long enough to accept some broth as well as one of his own teas, quietly remarking that he now understood why the others called it horse piss among other things.
Ezra Standish finally admitted to suffering from a headache and blurred vision and Sanchez ordered him to stay where they could keep an eye on him.
Chris, Nathan, and Vin were sporting fevers and the two healthy peacekeepers spent the night trying to cool them down. By morning all but Larabee's fever had dissipated and Jackson was now sitting beside him once more. Chris cried out in his delirium as Sanchez removed the bandages covering the lower half of the gunslinger's back.
"Dammit, I shoulda taken care of this last night," the healer swore, not liking the redness and swelling surrounding the wound.
"You're only human, Nathan," Sanchez assured him.
Jackson swallowed the anger he felt at his own weakness and set about making the gunslinger more comfortable. "What time did Mrs. Potter say we could expect Dr. Metcalf?"
"Sometime late this afternoon," Sanchez answered.
"I'm gonna drain the wound and leave it open. My hands are not steady enough to put in the stitches this is gonna need."
"Dr. Metcalf can put the stitches in when he arrives, Nathan," the ex-preacher assured him as he watched the healer gently prod the gunslinger's injury.
Chris felt the hands touching his back and cried out. "Do...don't," he gasped as more pressure was applied.
"Easy now, Chris. Nathan's gonna fix you right up."
Larabee opened his eyes and turned his head towards the healer. "Nathan, are you okay now?"
"Yeah, Chris, I'm okay. Now you just be quiet and we'll have you fixed up in no time."
"Everyone else okay?"
"Everyone's fine, Chris. We sent them out for something to eat. All done," Jackson said as he gently placed a clean cloth over the wound. "Josiah, can you bring me over the tea."
"Sure, Nathan," Sanchez said as he poured some of the healing liquid into a cup, returning to the bed he handed it to Jackson and lifted Larabee's head.
"Hell, Nathan, can't I have whiskey instead?"
"Not now, Chris," Jackson answered. The awkward angle made it difficult to drink but they managed to get most of the tea into the injured gunslinger before he slumped back to the bed.
"Nathan, how bad?"
Jackson looked at his long time friend. This was the one man he couldn't hide anything from. "It's not good, Josiah. The wound itself is bad enough but with all the swelling it's putting pressure on his spine."
"Will he be able to walk once the swelling goes down?"
"We won't know for sure until that time comes. If it's something more than swelling there may not be anything we can do."
"Are you saying he may never walk again?"
"It's something we may have to face at a later date. Right now we need to keep him still until Dr. Metcalf gets here," Jackson rubbed his eyes, his head suddenly pounding unmercifully.
"I think we'd better get you back to bed," Sanchez said as he helped his friend to his feet and led him to the empty cot.
Vin let his body slide heavily down the wall as he replayed the conversation between the two men inside the clinic. He suddenly felt cold, his body losing the warmth it usually held as the chilling words wrapped his body in an ice-cold blanket. He shivered fiercely as tears threatened to fall from his dull blue eyes. Oh, God, Cowboy, I didn't mean for this to happen. You gotta walk, he thought as he struck at his own healthy legs. "I'd give up my own if I thought it would help!" he whispered as he sat outside the clinic.
Gord Archer slammed his fist into the side of the wall. "Those sons a bitches will pay for messing with us."
"What're we gonna do, Gord?"
"We're gonna go after them and string them up like the mangy law dogs they are, Brad. I want to watch every single one of em hanging from a tree, their lifeless bodies being pecked at by the vultures. Godammit, they killed my brother and they're gonna pay."
"We've lost more than just your brother, Gord. We've lost half the gang."
"Don't you think I know that?" Archer shouted angrily.
"Then maybe we should rethink our plans."
"No! I want them dead and by God I'm gonna do it if it costs me everything I got. If any of you ain't got the guts to stick with me then ya'd better get out of here before I kill ya like the cowards ya are. All of ya would be dead if it wasn't for me and my brother."
"We're not gonna run out on you, Gord," Brad Weston assured his friend and leader. "We just need a little time to make a new plan."
"I got a new plan," Archer grinned malevolently.
"You gonna let the rest of us in on it?"
"The only one who wasn't with us was Rich. Send him to Four Corners to find out if we got any of them law dogs."
"Then what?"
"Then we're gonna bring our own brand of vengeance down on the little town of Four Corners and take care of any of 'em that are still movin' and to hell with anyone who gets in our way," Archer laughed as he watched Rich gallop away. "Soon Larabee and his gang won't be around to interfere in my plans anymore."
"Mr. Tanner, may I enquire as to the reason why you're sitting on the floor when there's a perfectly acceptable chair right here?"
The tracker lifted his red-rimmed eyes and stared into the green eyes of the gambler, "I'm fine where I am," he snapped. "Don't need no chairs, been hangin' round this place too long and it's makin' me soft."
"Are you planning on leaving our fair town?" Standish asked, hiding the worry he felt at the other man's tone.
"Gonna go do what I was plannin' fore I came ta this place."
"I was under the impression that was something you and Mr. Larabee were planning to do together."
"Chris don't need me around, Ez. He don't need someone who turned him into a cripple. Havin' me walkin' around's just gonna remind him of what I done ta him," Tanner rasped.
"Vin, you didn't do anything to him."
"How can you say that, Ez. I may have crippled my best friend. Do you understand that? Chris may never walk again and I did that to him."
"Mr. Larabee doesn't blame you for any of this, Vin."
"I blame myself, Ez. I should've been more careful. I know how to handle dynamite and I made a mistake. A mistake that may cause Chris the use of his legs," Tanner snarled as he stood up. "Hell, he might even die."
The door opened behind them and Josiah Sanchez looked out. He looked at the serious faces on the two men before speaking. "Vin, Ezra, is everything alright?"
"Everything's fine, Josiah. How's Chris?" the sharpshooter asked.
"He's awake and asking for you."
The tracker held his arm against his chest, the sling keeping it steady as he stepped into the darkened clinic. He looked to the cot where the healer slept, not surprised to see the lines of pain there. He turned his head and his eyes came to rest on the figure lying on his stomach in the bed, a thin blanket covering him.
Larabee heard the door open and felt someone enter the room. Without opening his eyes he knew Vin Tanner, whose very presence he could always sense, had entered the clinic. He opened pain-glazed eyes and lifted his head slightly. "Vin, are you alright?"
"I'm fine, Chris."
The gunslinger's instincts kicked in and he knew something was bothering the younger man. "Vin, what's wrong?"
Tanner sat in the chair next to the bed, cradling his injured arm. "Just a little tired, Cowboy."
Green eyes met blue and the tracker knew the gunslinger was reading him like an open book. Larabee was the one man he couldn't hide things from. Their friendship had started with a simple glance and nod of the head, but had quickly grown to a point where they could almost tell what the other was going to say before he opened his mouth.
"Vin," Larabee tried to push up on the bed, gasping in pain as he twisted the stiffening wound in his back.
"Stay down, Chris," the tracker warned, placing one hand on the blond's shoulder.
"What's wrong, Vin?" Larabee asked again, but the tracker didn't answer as the door opened and an elderly man walked in.
Thomas Metcalf entered the little clinic and glanced at the three men present. Two lying prone on the beds, the other sitting awkwardly in a chair, his arm held close to his body. "I hear there's someone in need of some medical attention here," he smiled, the warmth adding a depth of caring to the heavily whiskered face.
"Hi, Doc," Tanner said, recognizing the friendly man from Eagle Bend.
"You fella's been at it again I see. How many injured this time?" Metcalf laughed as he stepped up to the bed housing the dark skinned healer.
"Me and Buck got hit in the shoulder, Nathan took one in the leg, and Ezra's head was grazed by a bullet."
Metcalf felt Jackson's head, relieved when he found no heat rising from the sleeping man. "What about you, Chris, where were you hit?"
"He wasn't hit, Doc, least not by a bullet," Tanner explained.
Metcalf left the healer asleep on the cot and stepped over to the second bed. "How'd you get hurt, Chris?"
"Fell against a rock," the gunslinger answered.
Metcalf looked from one man to the other, trying to understand the guilty look on the blue-eyed tracker's face. "You want to tell me how you managed that?"
"My fault," Tanner answered. "I threw dynamite at him."
"Vin!" Larabee snapped, finally grasping what was bothering him about the younger man's voice. "It wasn't your fault."
"It don't matter whose fault it was. I need to take a look at you. Vin, ask Josiah to come in here and give me a hand. But I don't want you to go too far. I want to look at that shoulder. Tell Buck and Ezra I want to check them as well," Metcalf ordered.
The Texan turned from the injured man and without a backwards glance left the room. Sanchez entered immediately and walked over to the doctor. "What do you want me to do, Doc?"
"I want to have a look at his back and I may need you to hold him down for me."
"Josiah, is Vin alright?"
"He'll be fine, Chris, he just feels somewhat responsible."
"Dammit, it's not his fault. Get him back here, Josiah! I need to talk some sense into him."
"Not right now, Chris, Dr. Metcalf's here to fix you up."
"I'm fine. Nathan already fixed me up," Larabee gasped as the doctor removed the bandage from his lower back.
"You say you did this when you fell against a rock?" Metcalf asked as he examined the red, swollen flesh.
"Doc, Vin was about to throw a stick of dynamite when he was shot. He dropped the dynamite as he fell backwards. Chris was behind him and when the blast went off he was thrown against a rock. Near as I can figure his back scraped along the sharpened edge of the stone. That's what caused the injury."
Metcalf knew the gunslinger was in pain, evidenced by the small gasps coming from his closed mouth. He reached into his bag and took out the bottle of Laudanum he always carried with him. "Chris, I want you to take a little of this. It should help take some of the pain away."
Larabee swallowed gratefully, unable to stand the pain taking up residence in his back any longer. "It hu...rts," he gasped.
"Just lie still," Metcalf ordered. " I'm gonna clean this up. Looks like Nathan did a good job cleaning it, but there's still a touch of infection in there. Nathan, you stay where you are!" Metcalf ordered as he saw the dark skinned healer hobbling towards him.
"I can help you," Jackson insisted.
"You can help by staying in bed 'til I get a chance to look at you!" the doctor ordered.
"I'm fine."
"Thought you hated hearing those words from us, Nate, better practice what you preach and tell the truth," Larabee smiled at the chagrined look on the healer's face.
Jackson sat heavily on the bed, realizing he didn't have the energy to stand on his own anyway. He looked towards the door as three of the four missing peacekeepers entered the room. Vin Tanner was conspicuously absent.
"Hey, Doc, how're they doing?" Wilmington asked.
"I'm about to find out. You fellas just sit down and wait your turn. I want to look at each one of you."
"Nathan already did, Doc," Wilmington told him.
"That was yesterday, Buck. Sit down until the doc gets round to ya," the healer ordered. "Where's Vin?"
"He said he'd be back in a little while," Dunne answered.
"Where'd he go?" Sanchez asked, his voice edged in concern.
"He was gonna check on Pony and Peso," JD told him.
"Tell him not to go anywhere," Jackson ordered.
"I shall make that request immediately."
"Ezra, you stay put 'til the doc looks at ya. JD, can you go make sure Vin doesn't do anything stupid."
"Sure, Nate," Dunne's eager to please voice answered as he hurried to find the tracker.
"Alright, Josiah, hold him down. Chris, I'm gonna clean the wound on your back and stitch it up a bit, okay?"
"Okay," Larabee muttered, the laudanum, exhaustion, and pain making it hard for him to focus. He knew there was someone missing, knew he should be able to think of who it was, but the ex-preacher's hands on his shoulders signalled the onslaught of a new type of hell. He held his breath as the doctor cleaned the wound with whiskey, gasping at the biting sting of the liquor.
Metcalf continued to clean the ugly gash, smiling as he noticed the slight movement of the injured man's legs. Looks like this might not be as bad as I first thought. Once the laceration was cleaned the doctor began to methodically put in a neat row of stitches. He felt when Larabee finally lost the fight to stay conscious, but never wavered in the task at hand.
"Vin," Dunne called as he entered the livery.
"Who're ya lookin' fer, JD?"
"Is Vin around, Yosemite?"
"He was here a few minutes ago."
"Where'd he go?"
"Asked me to saddle Peso so's he could go on patrol."
"Damn," Dunne swore.
"What's wrong, JD?"
"Vin was supposed to come to Nathan's so Doc Metcalf could look after him. He wasn't supposed to go out on patrol."
"He said he wanted to see whether Archer and his bunch were still around."
"Thanks, Yosemite, I've got to go tell the others."
"How're Mr. Larabee and Mr. Jackson?"
"Nathan's tuckered out and his leg's bothering him some. Dr. Metcalf was just checking Chris when I left. His back don't look too good though. It's covered in bruises and one hell of a cut."
"Is he gonna be alright?"
"Don't know yet. I have to get back. Tell Vin to come to the clinic if he comes back here."
"I will, JD," Yosemite assured him as he watched the young man hurry out of the livery.
So the tracker's out on patrol. Larabee's hurt bad and Jackson's injured as well. This just gets better, Rich thought as the younger man hurried past him. He'd listened to the conversation between the two men in the livery and now had news he could tell Gord Archer. Smiling, he headed for the saloon in hopes of picking up more news.
The tracker searched for signs that Archer's gang was still in the area. As darkness fell he found himself close to Larabee's little piece of heaven. Not wanting to face his fears yet he headed for the small house. He unsaddle Peso and released the feisty animal into the corral. A bone-weary, aching tiredness spread over his body as he stumbled towards the tiny one room shack. He pushed the door open and stepped into the darkened interior. His eyes lit on the tiny bed and he fell onto it just before conscious thought left him and he fell into a fevered sleep.
Larabee was awake and aware, but didn't want his friends to know. He'd listened in dismay as JD told the others Vin had gone on Patrol. Josiah and Ezra forced Chris to lie back on the bed, ignoring his mounting anger as he told them he needed to find Tanner. He gave in when Sanchez and Dunne assured him they'd leave right away to search for him. Godammit, Vin, it's not your fault, he thought as he felt Metcalf place his hand on his forehead.
"Leave me," the gunslinger hissed sharply.
"That's not likely, Son, I need you to drink some water for me," Metcalf said as he helped Larabee drink from the glass he held.
"T...thanks."
"You're welcome, Chris. How're you feeling and don't tell me fine. I'm as tired of hearing that as Nathan is."
"Feel hot," the blond answered.
"That's 'cause you have a fever. Just try to relax and we'll see if we can make you feel more comfortable," Metcalf smiled as the blond head bobbed once and the green eyes closed.
Nathan sat on the cot, his head resting in his hands. He hated being injured and unable to help his friends when they needed him most. Chris, Vin, and Buck all needed his attention and he'd been so weak he fell asleep before he finished his job. He wanted to kick himself for his failure, but a hand on his shoulder helped ease the tension he felt. He met the green eyes and saw the trust and friendship hidden there. "Thanks, Ezra," he said gratefully.
"You're only human, Mr. Jackson. There's just so much you can do. Why don't you lie down and get some sleep?"
"Think I will, Ez," Jackson said as he sank back onto the cot.
The nightmare began once more. Each time he closed his eyes and drifted towards sleep the memories would return to haunt him. His hand would rise to throw the dynamite just as a sharp piercing fire erupted in his shoulder and he toppled backwards, the dynamite flying from his hands. He hadn't seen where it landed, but his fevered mind conjured up it's own vivid images. He saw the explosive land at Larabee's feet and watched helplessly as the blond gunslinger was thrown backwards into the sharp protruding rock.
The tracker moaned softly as he turned onto his injured arm. His tongue slipped past dry lips and tried to moisten them, but there was no respite from the heat there. "Sorry, Cowboy, all my fault," the words were muttered in the silent shack as the nightmare that plagued his mind continued. This time he was standing on the landing to Jackson's clinic, listening as Jackson and Sanchez talked about Chris and whether he'd be able to walk again. Even in sleep the young man's left hand unconsciously struck at his legs, his voice sounding muffled in the solitude he was building around himself. "I'd give up my own legs if'n I could."
In Jackson's clinic Metcalf was having trouble calming the blond gunslinger. He seemed to be trapped in his own nightmare, beads of sweat poured from his brow, soaking through the pillow under his head. "Vin, dammit! It's not your fault!" Larabee shouted as he arched up on the bed, unaware of the pain he was causing himself or the damage he was doing to the fine row of stitches Metcalf had put in.
Jackson woke with a start at the sounds from across the tiny room. He'd been through this with this particular patient before and knew there would be no calming him until they either woke him up or the tracker returned. He lifted his injured leg over the edge of the bed and hopped the few feet to the gunslinger.
"Nathan, you should be in bed."
"I'm fine, Doc," Jackson smiled as he realized he sounded just like his two most frequent patients. "Sorry, I feel lousy, but Chris needs me right now," he explained to the older man as he sat in the chair next to the bed. Jackson reached out and touched Larabee's forehead, wincing at the heat he felt there. "How long's he been like this?"
"Couple of hours. I just sent Standish to get some ice. We have to get the fever down before he gets dehydrated. I've been tryin' to get him to drink some water, but he's not listening."
"Chris can be a stubborn cuss when he wants to be, Doc. He's even worse when he's like this," Jackson explained as he took the cloth from the basin and washed Larabee's face.
"Vin!" Larabee struggled with the nightmare of watching his friend topple backwards. It meant little to him that a stick of explosive landed close to his feet. All that mattered was hearing the tracker cry out as he was propelled backwards. The pain exploding in his own back meant nothing to him as he waited for Vin Tanner to move. The nightmare grew worse as the sharpshooter laid still on the ground, his body unmoving. "Vin!" he cried sharply.
"Chris, listen to me. It's just a dream. Come on now, wake up," Jackson spoke quietly to the injured man, hoping his soft words would break through the nightmare Larabee was trapped in.
Green eyes opened and Jackson realized the pain in them was like a mirror to the gunslinger's soul. He knew the look in those eyes meant the man was not quite with them and that he was lost in some hell of his own making. "Look at me, Chris," Jackson tried to break through the images that held the blond enthralled. "You gotta calm down now. You're only hurtin' yourself more," the healer continued in the same calming tone until the green eyes finally focused on him.
"Nathan?"
"Yeah, it's me. How're ya feelin' Chris?"
"F...fine."
Metcalf laughed as he looked at the two men. So different, yet so much alike when it came to their own health. For all his complaining about the others not admitting they were hurting, Nathan Jackson was just as bad. "I'm gonna take a look at your back, Son. I need you to stay as still as possible for me," he ordered as he sat on the edge of the bed.
"Okay," the blond gasped as the bandages were gently removed.
"Looks like you pulled a couple of stitches. I need you to lie still while I put them back in. Think you can do that for me?"
"Yeah!" Larabee gasped as he felt something wet placed against the wound.
"Here's the ice you requested, Doctor Metcalf," Standish said as he entered the clinic. His eyes immediately went to the injured healer seated in the chair. "I do hope you're not planning on sitting in that uncomfortable chair much longer, Mr. Jackson."
"G...go b...back to bed, Nate," the blond told the healer.
"I'm okay, Chris."
"Nathan, take your own advice and get some rest. Ezra and I can look after Chris," Metcalf ordered. "Ezra, help him back to bed and give him a spoonful of Laudanum."
"I don't need..."
"Mr. Jackson, I don't believe you for a minute," Standish grinned as he helped the healer back to the cot.
"Ezra, wait 'til the next time you're in my hands," Jackson hissed as he opened his mouth and took the offered medication.
"I shall endeavor to stay out of harms way," the gambler laughed as he pulled the blankets up over the injured man.
"You do that," Jackson mumbled through a yawn.
Standish stared down at the dark skinned healer. Seeing this man he'd grown to respect since their first meeting in the saloon, weakened by a bullet, brought home just how frail human life could be. "Get some sleep, Mr. Jackson. Lord knows you deserve it."
"Hmm," was the quietly mumbled reply.
"All done, Chris."
Metcalf's caring voice penetrated the pain and Larabee opened his eyes once more. His eyes flicked across the room until they fell on the well-dressed gambler. "Did JD and Josiah find V...Vin?" he asked worriedly.
"They haven't returned from their search, Mr. Larabee," Standish informed him.
"Damn," the guilt and fear came through in the quietly spoken word.
"Mr. Larabee, it is not your fault."
"That's where you're wrong, Ez, it was my idea to use the dynamite. Vin wouldn't have been shot if we'd stayed below."
"You can't second guess yourself, Chris," Standish said, purposely using the leader's first name. "If you hadn't come up with a plan we'd most certainly all be dead. Archer's gang had the upper hand and we were pinned down."
"Thanks, Ezra," Larabee whispered gratefully. His back felt as if it were on fire and he tried to shift his weight on the bed. He gasped as he struggled to find a comfortable spot and felt the gambler's hand on his upper back.
"Easy, Chris," Standish soothed.
"Need to turn over," Larabee muttered.
"Chris, I don't want you lying on your back right now," Metcalf told him.
"Can't stay like this anymore, Doc, feel h...helpless," the gunslinger explained.
"Ezra, I'm going to roll him on his side. I want you to take those pillows and place them underneath him. Chris, this is going to hurt, but hopefully it'll make you a little more comfortable in the long run. Are you ready?"
"T...think so," the blond grinned weakly as Metcalf gently turned him on his right side.
Standish quickly placed the pillows in front of Larabee and watched as Metcalf gently eased the injured man down on them. The gambler noted the lines of pain etched on the handsome face. The beads of sweat on his forehead, the tightly clenched eyes, and the heavy breathing, all signs of what this move cost the blond.
"Easy, Chris, it's all over," Standish whispered softly.
"T...thanks."
"Take this, Chris," Metcalf ordered, relieved when the blond didn't argue over taking the Laudanum. Metcalf followed it with water and was pleased to see his patient drink the much needed liquid. The fever continued to eat away at the injured man and he hoped they could keep getting him to take in water and broth.
Standish poured the ice into the basin and dipped the cloth into the cooling water. He wiped the blonds fevered brow, smiling at the soft sigh that slipped past the man's lips.
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