Josiah awoke to a strangled cry and for a moment he found he was back in time. A time he didn’t want to remember, yet it was a turning point in his life. A second cry reached his ears and he shook the cobwebs from his sleep-dampened mind. He pushed to his feet and moved to the tiny bed.
Larabee had pushed the blankets from his body and was trembling uncontrollably. He cried out in fever-induced delirium, calling for people from his past as well as present.
Sanchez realized the little cabin had grown chill and he swore as he saw the fire was nearly out and the cold was once more seeping inside. He covered his friend’s body and moved to the fireplace, where he stoked the remaining ashes until a tiny spark of life glowed from the embers. He quickly added small pieces of kindling until flames once more warmed the cabin, then added a few larger chunks of wood before returning to the bed. He stopped as fever drenched green eyes looked up at him from under dark lids. For a minute he wasn’t sure if Chris Larabee saw him or if he was still stuck in his nightmares.
“J’siah?”
“I’m right here, Brother. How do you feel?”
Larabee’s eyebrows furrowed, his voice cracking as he answered, “Tired, h...hot, thirsty.”
Sanchez hurried to the table and poured water from the bucket into a tin cup, the returned to the bed and knelt beside the blond. He lifted him forward, ignoring the tiny moan that escaped from the injured man. “Take it slow, Chris,” he ordered.
Chris gratefully drank the water until he felt his stomach churning. He turned away from the cup after drinking only a few drops and looked up at the ex-preacher. He could tell the man hadn’t slept much. The usually sparkling blue eyes were bloodshot and the face haggard looking. “Are you o...okay?” Larabee asked weakly.
Sanchez couldn’t help the shaky laugh that escaped his throat. Chris Larabee was an enigma to him. He placed a hand on the hot shoulder. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that, Chris?”
“Feel lousy,” Larabee smiled in spite of the truth in his words. “You?”
“Just tired, Chris.”
Larabee nodded in understanding and let his eyes close. The pain in his shoulder burned through his body and he tried to move on the bed. There was nothing he could do to ease it. He bit his bottom lip to hide just how much pain he was in. He felt Sanchez lift the bandage from the bullet wound and swallowed.
“I’m sorry, Chris, I just have to check this.”
“It’s o...okay,” the blond stammered and clenched his left fist in the blankets. He had no idea how long he endured Sanchez’ hands touching the inflamed wound, but he breathed a sigh of relief as it ended.
“Chris?”
“H...how bad?”
“It’s getting worse. I’m gonna have to get that bullet out.”
Larabee nodded and opened his eyes. He tried to send a sense of trust to the ex-preacher, but there was something in the man’s eyes that made him stop. Again he wondered why a man with such deep-seated beliefs and wonderful way of speaking had given up the priesthood. He remembered listening to the rich, baritone voice give sermons that would’ve melted the hardest hearts. He wanted to know more about that now as he looked into the pained face.
“Josiah, w...what happened?”
Sanchez frowned as he looked into Larabee’s eyes. “You were shot, Chris.”
“N...no, not w...what I meant. What h...happened to make you q...question your f...faith?”
Josiah’s shoulders slumped as he placed a hand on Larabee’s shoulder. “It’s a long story, Brother,” he said sadly.
“G...got time,” Larabee muttered.
“I tell you what, Chris Larabee. Let me get that bullet out and then I’ll tell you the story. It goes way back and as I said it’s a long one.”
“O...kay.” Larabee sucked in a deep breath and nodded to the older man. “G...go ahead.”
“I have a few things to get ready first, Chris. I’m gonna give you a little whiskey. We’re both gonna owe old man Miller a word of thanks. Just relax for a few minutes while I get things ready.” he saw the sweat soaked blond head dip once and watched to make sure the chest continued to rise and fall under the blankets.
Gunfire continued to echo around the five peacekeepers. Buck lifted his head and took a shot at a reflection of light and smiled at JD when he heard the distinctive cry of pain.
“Vin! Behind you!” JD cried and shot the man who’d managed to get in behind the sharpshooter. He smiled at the tracker’s nod of approval, before Buck pulled his head down.
“Damnit, JD, ya tryin’ ta get yourself killed?” Wilmington snapped as a bullet took a chunk out of the log they hid behind.
Marcus was beginning to lose his nerve. So far at least three of the eight men he was with were dead. He looked to his left to see Curly firing at the enemy and wondered how much longer the fight would go on. He lifted his head and quickly sat back as a bullet pinged off the rock to his left. He looked at Curly and saw the grin on the older man’s face.
“Gotta watch it, Marcus, good way ta get yer head shot off.”
Marcus crawled further down and hid behind a larger rock. He took a deep breath as one of Nelson’s men raced across a small clearing. “Damn fool,” he hissed as the man was quickly taken down.
Hiram Nelson was making slow progress through the snow. Sometimes its drifts were nearly insurmountable. The heat of the sun was quickly melting it and making the terrain treacherous. He had to move with extreme caution in some places to keep from sliding off the pass and down the slope.
“Easy, Boy,” he soothed as his skittish horse nearly lost his footing. He swore as the horse stepped on an icy patch and almost went down. He knew he still had five or six hours before he made it to the place they’d left Larabee and Sanchez and fought the urge to press the horse to move faster.
“JD, I’m gonna see if I can move around behind these boys. Maybe we can get ‘em in a crossfire.”
“Buck, be careful,” the kid warned as the ladies’ man moved back into the brush.
Jackson saw Wilmington move and laid down cover fire at the same time JD did. He turned as a twig snapped behind him and barely controlled the urge to fire. “Good way ta get shot, Ez!” he snapped.
“I thank the good Lord you have a steady hand, Mr. Jackson. I’m going to take advantage of your cover fire to offer assistance to Mr. Wilmington,” Standish explained and hurried past the healer.
“Ezra, keep yer fool head down!” Tanner hissed as the conman hurried past him.
Ezra stopped and turned a quick smile on the sharpshooter. “I assure you I plan on keeping my fool head attached to my shoulders, Mr. Tanner.” He smiled once more and hurried off.
Vin watched as his two friends circled around to get behind whoever was shooting at them. He had an idea it was Nelson and his gang, but couldn’t be sure. Something gnawed at him and he knew instinctively if it was Nelson, then Chris and Josiah were in trouble somewhere. He shook himself and turned his attention back to the present problem. Right now they needed to get rid of the men blocking their path before they could start a search for the missing men.
Chris had no idea how long he laid on the bed, his mind racing with thoughts of Sarah and Adam. He kept his eyes closed as he waited for what was to come. As they always had been, thoughts of Sarah and Adam were a soothing balm on his soul. He saw them as they were in life, healthy, happy and the love of his life. Somehow, they were always there for him, even during the blackest times of his life. Now he felt closer to them than he had in years and he sighed.
“Chris?”
Larabee forced his eyes open and looked at the older man. He knew by the set of the large shoulders that Josiah was ready to begin. He simply nodded and let his eyes slide closed once more. A hand on his shoulder made him open them to half mast.
“Chris, I want you to drink this. It’s whiskey and might help.”
“O...okay.” Larabee felt his head lifted and sipped at the burning liquid. He forced himself to drink the alcohol in spite of his rebelling stomach. He had no idea how long it took, but his head was soon eased back to the pillow. He was tired, far beyond the point of offering resistance and soon found his mind wandering under the influence of the whiskey. He shook himself awake once more as a hand touched his shoulder.
“W...what’s wrong, Josiah?” he asked of the worry and concern on the other man’s face.
“I n...need to tie you down, Chris. I can’t chance you moving around on me. I’m sorry!” He stood up and paced the small confines of the cabin as memories once more assaulted his mind. Another time, another friend, another bullet, and he prayed this time there’d be a different outcome.
“Josiah?”
The ex-preacher stopped in mid stride, the weak voice so similar to the one echoing from the past. He swallowed the pain those memories conjured up and walked back to the bed. He knew his eyes were moist, but he would not let his weakness show, not now. Not when Chris Larabee needed his strength. He took a deep breath and sat on the edge of the bed. Everything was ready for what needed to be done and the knife had been boiled in the melted snow. Clean strips of bandages were ready to cover the wound, another shot of whiskey waited in the cup, but Josiah’s hands shook at the thought of cutting into his friend and leader.
Chris saw the slight tremor in Sanchez’s body and reached up with his left hand. He waited until the blue eyes met his and smiled weakly. “T...trust you, Josiah.”
The power behind the words shone in the green eyes and Sanchez felt as if he’d been given the strength he needed. He nodded to the gunslinger and reached for the cup. “Drink all of this,” he said as he lifted Larabee forward. He waited until the shot of whiskey was gone and eased his friend back down. He picked up the strips of cloth he’d cut from one of the blankets and sighed.
“It’s okay, Josiah,” Chris assured him as he felt the pain this was causing the other man. He held up his left hand and hissed. “Gotta be d...done!”
Sanchez nodded and clasped the sweaty hand in his own. He slowly began wrapping the material around Larabee’s wrists and securing him to the bed. He didn’t feel the tears that slipped unbidden from his eyes. “I’m sorry, Paulie,” he said, not realizing he was seeing another man from another time and place.
“Curly, behind you!”
Marcus heard the cry from the man next to him and looked up just in time to see the Curly clutching at his stomach as he fell. He fired a shot at a well-dressed man and smiled as he clutched at his arm.
“Marcus, they’re gettin’ behind us,” came a cry from one of the men on his right.
“Shit! Move back!” he cried as he realized the odds were quickly turning against them. Another man fell and Marcus moved away from the safety of the rock. He knew they had no chance against whoever they had attacked and he wasn’t ready to die just yet.
Ezra held his right hand against his left arm as he leaned heavily against a tree. He took two or three deep shuddering breaths and waited for the stinging pain to stop. He fired at movement ahead of him, but knew he’d missed his target as a shot hit the tree he hid behind.
Buck knew Ezra was hit, but didn’t know how bad and at the moment he was in no position to ask. Two men had him caught in a crossfire and he had no way of moving from the meager shelter of shrubs. He knew it was only a matter of time before one of the bullets hit him.
Vin, Nathan and JD moved towards the area where the gunfire was now concentrated. They covered each other and used everything available as concealment. A shot ricocheted off a rock near Tanner and he dove behind a small boulder. He lifted his head and called. “Watch out, JD, there’s one behind them tree,” he said pointing to the area ahead and to the right.
Dunne nodded from behind his cover and took a quick shot in that general direction. He knew he had no chance of hitting the man, but it made him feel good. He took a deep breath and raced across the short distance to the next clump of rocks and trees.
Nathan unconsciously kept up a constant litany of prayers as they hurried into the foray. He fired a quick shot at a man racing from one rock to another, but his shot went wild. A split second later he heard the same man cry out. He saw the smile on JD’s face as he blew on the barrel of his pistol. Nathan smiled at the action, seeing again how young JD Dunne really was.
Buck smiled as he realized he wasn’t pinned down anymore. He eased out of the shrubs and made his way towards the rocks he’d seen a man hiding behind. It didn’t take long for the man to lift his head and buck snarled. “Drop it!”
Harvey Marcus turned and saw the angry, dishevelled man standing a few feet away from him. He knew there was little choice but to give up. The gun slid from trembling fingers as he stood away from the rock.
“Get away from the gun!” Wilmington warned.
Marcus swallowed the fear rising in his throat and moved on shaky legs. “I’m n...not gonna do nothin’ stupid,” he mumbled.
Wilmington smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “Damn right you’re not!”
“Buck! Look out!”
Wilmington reacted instinctively at the warning from the southerner and dove to the ground. A gunshot sounded behind him and he turned to see a man fall forward on his face. He swallowed and nodded his thanks to the gambler before turning to the trembling man lying on the ground in front of him. “Just stay put, Mister!” he snapped. “Ez, how bad are ya hit?”
“I assure you it is nothing but an aggravating flesh wound, Mr. Wilmington,” Ezra replied, slipping back into the formal role now that the danger to his friend was over. “I do believe the others have joined us.”
Buck smiled as Tanner, Dunne and Jackson came slowly towards them. Nathan put his gun away and hurried to check on the gambler.
“I assure you I’m fine,” Standish hissed as Jackson helped him ease his coat off.
“JD, tie him up,” Wilmington ordered. “Vin, we should take a look around.”
“Yeah,” Tanner drawled. He took a quick look at Standish and Jackson. “How bad is it, Nathan?”
“Just took a hunk a hide, not much, but it’s gonna put a crimp in his gamblin’ for a day or two,” Jackson smiled as he helped the gambler sit. “When you’re finished lookin’ around grab my saddlebags.”
“Sure,” Wilmington said as JD shoved Marcus to the ground. “You two okay to watch him?”
“We’ll be fine,” Jackson answered.
“Josiah, you o...okay?” Larabee asked as he heard the sorrow in the man’s voice.
Sanchez lifted his head and nodded. “I’m fine, Chris,” he answered as he finished securing Larabee’s legs to the bed. He knew there was no choice, but the idea of Larabee being helplessly tied down made his blood run cold. ‘How many enemies would like to find you like this, Chris?’ he thought as he reached for the knotted cloth. He didn’t need to tell the gunslinger what the cloth was for.
Larabee opened his mouth and accepted the material. He knew what was to come, this wasn’t the first time a bullet was removed from his body and he knew exactly how much pain this would cause. He saw remorse cloud Sanchez’s eyes as the man lifted the hunting knife and poured whiskey over the blade. He held his breath as the bandage was removed from his shoulder and closed his eyes.
“Do it!” The two words were muffled through the cloth clenched in his teeth, but there was little doubt as to what he said.
Sanchez nodded and pressed the tip of the blade into the wound. He fought against his rebelling stomach, knowing this needed to be done in order to save his friends life.
Time seemed to stand still for the two occupants of the small cabin. One man focused totally on saving a friend’s life, while the other fought back the pain racing through his body. The minutes crawled by as Josiah Sanchez forced the knife into the wound, oblivious to the weak moans coming from the man he worked on.
Chris held his breath and bit down on the knotted cloth, his body rigid as the sharp object was embedded in his flesh. He tried to move away from the pain, but the makeshift ropes held him down. He sucked in a deep breath as darkness beckoned to him and he lapsed into unconsciousness.
“I got it, Chris,” Sanchez hissed, unaware that his friend had stopped struggling minutes before. “God help me!” he cried as the bullet finally came free of the ragged wound. He suddenly realized how quiet it was and he lifted his eyes to look into the pale face. It terrified him to see the almost grey pallor of Larabee’s skin and he closed his eyes as he cried out. “Don’t You dare take him like this! A box of worthless paper is not worth taking his life. You got Paulie, but you ain’t getting Chris Larabee. It’s not his time!” he raged, but dropped his voice as he felt the anger turn to pain. “Dear Lord, don’t take him!”
It was growing dark by the time the five peacekeepers finished checking the bodies and securing the one live prisoner they had. Marcus had remained silent as the men searched for the remainder of the gang. Eight bodies were found; some had died instantly, and others had simply bled to death from the wounds.
Marcus had refused to answer their questions in spite of the fear he felt at the intimidating presence of five angry men. They had asked him if he’d seen two men when he was coming through the pass and he knew he was looking at the remainder of the seven peacekeepers from Four Corners. Now he waited, knowing sooner or later they’d question him again.
Jackson watched Standish carefully as the gambler flexed the fingers on his left hand. The wound wasn’t serious, but the healer knew it would be painful. He looked around at the rest of the men. Tanner and Dunne didn’t seem to be affected by the gunfight, although he did notice Vin wince when he overused his arm. He walked over to the sharpshooter, who was seated on a rock next to a glowing fire. It had been decided they should spend the night here and take care of the bodies before leaving at first light. The canyon pass would be treacherous, especially in the dark.
“Vin, is your arm bothering you?”
“Nah, nothin’ wrong wit’ it, Nathan.” The sharpshooter shrugged his shoulders and flexed his arms to assure the healer.
“Maybe I should take a quick look at it.”
“Said I’s fine, Nathan. I’ll let ya know when...”
“Sure you will.” Jackson shook his head, knowing it would do know good to arguer with the younger man.
“We need ta bury these men,” Tanner said as he looked at the bodies.
“Yeah, But, you, Ezra, and JD are not lifting a hand,” the healer warned.
“Ain’t no way you and Buck can do it all.”
Jackson smiled as he answered. “I don’t plan on it, Vin.” He turned to the ladies’ man. “Buck, untie him, ain’t no reason he can’t help us bury his friends.”
Wilmington smiled as he took out his knife and cut through the ropes. “You try anything and you’ll be joining your friends in the ground,” he snarled.
“I...I won’t,” Marcus told him.
The men didn’t have the proper tools to bury the men, but they’d found a shallow cave that would hold them until they could be buried properly. For now they would just seal them inside the cave. Three hours later the bodies were interred and the peacekeepers once more turned their attention to Marcus. The prisoner’s hands were again bound behind his back and he leaned heavily against a boulder.
“What’s your name?” Dunne asked.
Marcus met the young man’s stare with one of his own. Of the five men present this was the one he was least intimidated by. He remained silent until the kid walked towards him, and swallowed as he saw the firelight sparkle off the eyes. There was something almost cold about the way the kid glared at him and if the others had seen it they would’ve likened it to Chris Larabee. The difference being that Larabee didn’t have to work to bring that glare out whereas the kid did.
“I asked ya a question, Mister, and I want an answer!” Dunne snapped, pleased that the others were leaving it to him. It was times like this that he really felt a part of the seven that they trusted that he could do the job. He reached down and dragged the man to his feet and drew his gun. “Now tell me who you are!”
“Hey, JD, easy, Kid,” Wilmington played along with JD’s ruse, knowing the others would do the same.
“Shut up, Buck! You guys are always telling me I’m too soft, well now I’m just gonna prove how wrong you are.”
“JD! Ya can’t kill ‘im!” Tanner called as the younger man continued to threaten the outlaw.
“Not gonna kill him, Vin, just gonna wound him a little.” He let the man drop to the ground and pointed his pistol at his right knee. “See, I can just make it so he can’t run away!” he punctuated the threat by easing back on the trigger.
“You’re lawmen! Ya can’t let ‘im do t...this,” Marcus stammered.
“You’d be well advised to supply the young gentleman with the information he’s seeking,” Standish explained.
“What? Do what?” Marcus asked, confusion written on his face as Dunne continued to point his weapon.
“He means you’d better tell the kid everything he wants to know,” Jackson explained. “Otherwise we might just have to reopen that cave.”
“Y...you wouldn’t?”
“Try me!” JD hissed, enjoying the bad guy role the others were letting him play. This was something Buck Wilmington usually did, never him, and it felt strange to see the fear he’d put in the outlaw’s eyes. He eased the trigger back a little further and watched as Marcus tried to pull away.
“H...Harvey Marcus,” the man answered.
“Well, Harvey,” JD sneered. “Where’s Nelson?” they’d seen wanted posters of Hiram Nelson and his gang, and had recognized at least three of the dead men as part of that gang.
“W...who?” he stammered.
“You know who I’m talkin’ about! That lowlife Nelson! Where is he?”
“I...I don’t know...” A bullet struck the dirt by his leg and his eyes widened in fear.
“JD!” Wilmington snapped.
“I got it, Buck!” Dunne warned. “The next one won’t miss. Now where is he?”
“H...he went back!”
“Back where?”
“Back to where w...we left L...Larabee and S...Sanchez.”
Tanner and Wilmington couldn’t wait any longer. The two men were at Dunne’s side and grabbing a piece of the outlaw. The kid had done his job and now it was up to them to find out what this man knew about the missing peacekeepers.
“Where the hell are they?” Wilmington snarled as Tanner shook the man.
“I...I don’t kn...know...” Marcus struggled to get away and fell to the ground as the two men released him. he cried out as he landed on his bound arms.
“Ya want me ta turn the kid loose on ya ag’in?” the tracker asked.
Marcus glanced at the young easterner and didn’t like the gleam in his eyes. “N...No. P...please...I can show ya where we left them.”
“Are they still amongst the living?” Standish asked.
“T...they were, but...”
“But what?” Jackson interrupted.
“B...but Larabee was hurt...”
“Hurt!” Tanner once more reached for the fallen man. “Hurt how?”
“S...shot. Hiram shot ‘im.”
“How bad?” Buck demanded coldly.
“I...I don’t know. I just saw h...him fall from the s...saddle and there was b...blood on the snow.”
Tanner pulled him up until their eyes met. He felt the tremors running through the outlaw as he pressed until they were nose to nose. “You’d better pray him and Josiah don’t die!” He threw the man back to the ground and stalked back to the fire. The thought of the two men caught high in the mountains worried him. He’d seen the signs that they were in for an early winter when he was up there recently on a hunting trip and he knew how deadly those storms could be. He suddenly remembered something Marcus said and turned back to the man, ignoring the way he cringed away from him. Buck and JD were still standing by the man, Ezra and Nathan sitting beside the fire.
“When did Nelson head back?”
“E...early yesterday,” Marcus answered.
“Why did he go back?” Wilmington asked.
“He went back to m...make sure L...Larabee was dead.”
“Why?” Dunne asked.
“I don’t know all of it, but he knew Larabee before he left Indiana.”
“You’re gonna show us exactly where you left them!” Buck hissed. He knew some of Larabee’s background from Indiana, but nothing about his meeting Hiram Nelson. He knew in his heart Nelson and Larabee would not have fought on the same side.
“Get some sleep. We leave at first light!” Tanner ordered. “I’ll take first watch.”
“Alright, Vin, wake me in four hours,” Wilmington ordered and saw the tracker nod as he walked off into the darkness.
Hiram Nelson shivered as the air grew colder. Night fell quickly, spreading a blanket of darkness over the canyon and he knew he couldn’t go any further. He searched the area for a place to spend the night, knowing the thrill of finding Larabee and Sanchez would help keep him warm through the night. He spotted an overhanging ledge and spurred his tired mount towards it. ‘I’ll find you tomorrow, Larabee!’ he thought as he set up camp for the night.
Through the long night Josiah sat beside the bed as Larabee was caught in the throes of fever induced delirium. He lost count of how many times he brought snow in and melted it down, using the tepid water to bathe the gunslinger. He boiled water and steeped the willow bark tea, once again thankful the man who owned the cabin saw fit to keep it stocked.
Once more he wet the cloth and placed it across Larabee’s forehead. He stood up from the chair and stretched his arms above his head. He knew he needed sleep, but was loath to give into his body’s demands, afraid he wouldn’t wake up if Larabee needed anything. Sighing heavily, he walked to the door and was surprised to find the sun was just coming over the horizon. He walked out into the bright sunshine and squinted his eyes as it glared off the melting snow. He walked to the woodpile and loaded his arms once more, then re-entered the cabin, placed a few chunks in the fireplace and returned to cooling down the injured man.
Vin woke them at first light. He’d managed to grab a few hours sleep after Buck relieved him, but woke up soon afterwards and told the ladies’ man not to bother waking JD for the next watch. They ate a cold breakfast of jerky and leftover biscuits from the night before, saddled their horses and rode out. The five friends rode one behind the other with Marcus stuck behind Jackson and in front of Dunne.
JD felt great about the influence he had over the other man. Each time Marcus turned to look over his shoulder, JD made sure he glared at him. When he turned back the young man would smile and shake his head. He knew the others were watching him and it felt good to know he’d done something to help find Larabee and Sanchez.
Chris opened fever bright eyes and tried to move, gasping as pain lanced through his upper body. He heard a sound beside him and turned his head until he saw the man seated beside him. A frown marred his face as he tried to draw the man’s name from his foggy memory. He closed his eyes in an effort to stop the room from spinning. Images formed and dissolved as he fought the pain in his body. Faces swam before his eyes and he opened them once more. A name came to him and he knew who was beside him.
“J...Josiah,” he mumbled. His voice came out weak and raspy and he tried again. “J’siah,” the word turned into a cough and he groaned as it tore at his chest.
Sanchez didn’t realize he had fallen asleep until a painful gasp came from the man on the bed. He reached for the cup of water and eased the gunslinger forward, helped him drink a small amount of liquid and gently placed him back on the pillow. He berated himself for giving in to his body’s weakness and not being awake when Larabee finally woke up.
“Thanks,” Larabee said softly.
“I’m sorry, Chris,” Sanchez apologized.
A frown again formed on his face as he asked. “For what?”
“I shouldn’t have fallen asleep.” He knew how absurd it sounded, but exhaustion and worry were the soul reasons he was in turmoil right now.
“Need to s...sleep too, Josiah.”
“I will, Chris. How do you feel?”
Larabee smiled in an effort to ease the lines etched into the older man’s face. “I’m fine,” he answered.
“Sure you are. How do you feel?” he repeated as he wet the cloth and placed it back on Larabee’s forehead.
“You’re as bad as Nathan.” Again the smile was on his face and he was glad to see the ex-preacher relax in the chair.
“I’ll take that as a compliment, my friend. Think you can drink a little tea?”
“Think so. Am kind’ve thirsty.”
Josiah walked to the fireplace and reached for the pot he placed there. The tea was still warm and he poured it into a cup. He walked back to the bed and again eased the blond forward.
Chris gritted his teeth as he was lifted forward. He sipped at the tea until he could take no more and turned away. The pain in his chest had gained momentum and he tried to get comfortable on the bed. Again his eyes lifted to meet those of the other man. He knew how much this was costing Josiah, but he didn’t know the reasons behind it. He knew it was more than having to take a bullet out of his chest. In spite of his own need for privacy and his respect for other people’s privacy, he knew what he had to do. Something from his past was eating at Sanchez and somehow Larabee knew he needed to talk it out.
“Josiah, tell me about Paulie,” he said softly.
Sanchez heard the name and felt a shiver run down his spine. He never spoke of the past, at least not the dark days when he’d begun to question everything about God and his own choices. He slumped forward in the chair and closed his eyes. The face of a young man formed before his closed lids and he realized for the first time just how much Paulie and Chris were alike. The same blond hair and green eyes. The same loyalty and friendship that was freely given when someone proved they could be honest and loyal. He remembered how Chris was angered when Ezra Standish ran out on them. Now, along with the rest of the seven, there was a unique bond there.
Chris saw the pain on Sanchez’ face and hated being the cause of it. He knew he’d crossed the line when he asked about Josiah’s past, yet he wanted to know. He wanted to understand what drove this man, why he’d given up something that he seemed so natural at. The ex-preacher remained quiet and Chris couldn’t help feeling he’d been wrong to ask. Taking a deep breath and fighting to quiet the oncoming nausea he reached out and placed his left hand on the other man’s arm.
“Josiah, s...sorry, didn’t mean to i...intrude. D...don’t have to t...tell,” Larabee’s muttered.
“It’s okay, Chris. Just give me a minute,” Sanchez said as he met the sorrow filled green eyes.
“O...okay,” Larabee said and closed his eyes. He felt Sanchez place his hand back under the covers. He knew he had a fever, but his body trembled under the blankets. He felt himself drifting, yet he wanted to stay awake and hear what Sanchez was going to say.
Josiah wasn’t sure if Larabee was still awake, but something told him he was and that he wouldn’t sleep until he heard what happened so long ago. He took a deep breath and his voice was soft as he spoke.
“It happen a long time ago, Chris. Guess I wasn’t much older than Vin. Had this friend I knew since we were both boys. His name was Paulie Marshall. We stayed friends when we both lost our parents. We grew up fast and hard and one day we met a man with a collar. Never knew exactly what we were getting into. This man was making a sermon in an open field with the rain coming down and the people still wouldn’t leave. Paulie and me stood there listening to him. He didn’t preach about fire and brimstone like the preacher at the church I went to with my mother and father. He preached about the goodness of God and how he’d save you if you were ready to let him into your heart. I remember wishing I could talk like him and when I looked at Paulie he had this expression on his face that I’ve never seen before. I knew right then Paulie and me were gonna ask this man how we could become men of the cloth. It was several years later when we struck out on our own. Ready, willing and able to bring the word of God to the so-called savage wilderness and the people fighting to make a life for themselves out there. We stayed together, stopping in small towns as we travelled. We stopped at homes that were far from civilization. We stopped at many Indian settlements and made a lot of friends amongst them. The stories we’d been told about these people were all wrong. They welcomed us, I won’t say all of them did, but most of them and there were many nights we shared the fire and stories with them. It was soon after we left just such an encampment that P...Paulie ...”
Josiah grew silent as he looked at the unmoving blond. He sighed and stood from the chair. He made his way to the fireplace and placed more logs on the burning embers. He looked towards Chris Larabee and was shocked to see a pair of green eyes watching his every move. He couldn’t help but smile at the younger man.
“I thought you were sleeping.”
“C...can’t...too c...cold,” his voice trembled as his teeth chattered and a heavy cough erupted from his chest. He felt strong hands lift him forward and accepted the willow bark tea. He drank a small amount and turned away. “Enough,” he said as Sanchez reclaimed his seat. “W...what happened to Paulie?”
Sanchez’ face took on a far away look as he watched the pale form on the bed. He was worried about the chill Larabee felt, especially when he could feel the heat radiating from the injured man. Taking a deep breath he continued to pour his soul out to the man he called friend and leader. “We rode away from the Indian encampment feeling like we’d done something worthwhile. Paulie was fairly dancing in the saddle and I could see a wonderful light shining in his eyes. They were breathtaking, Chris, and it shook me to the core to realize this man I called friend and brother could give of himself so freely. If goodness was defined by how big a man’s heart was then Paulie Marshall was all heart. He gave up his life for me that day.”
Sanchez grew quiet once more and Larabee was sure he saw a slight tremble in the man’s body. “S...sorry, Josiah, I...I understand if y...you don’t want to go on.”
“It’s okay, Chris, maybe it’s time I exorcised a few of my own demons,” Sanchez said as he looked towards the fire.
Larabee wasn’t sure whether Josiah was talking to him or speaking to the ghosts from his past. He waited silently, knowing the ex-preacher would continue when he was ready. Chris would not push it, but he would be there if his friend should fall.
Josiah took a deep breath and began to tell of the death of not only his friend, but also his own faith. A faith he’d slowly been bringing back to life with the penance he was doing and the friendships he had with the six peacekeepers he rode with.
“We rode south away from the Indian village, knowing we were entering an even greater wilderness. It was nearing dark when we heard a young woman’s cry of pain. We looked at each other and I swear I could see Death coming for him, Chris. I wanted to stop him from riding into that camp, but I knew he wouldn’t. I hurried ahead of him, wanting to protect him from the ghostly spectre I knew was waiting for him. We rode into the camp and,”
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