Josiah Sanchez drove the seven passenger club van just above the posted speed limit. The long stretches of highway with its unchanging scenery was taking its toll on him and he was ready for a break. Night had fallen and even the bright moon overhead did little to illuminate the narrow, winding road they traveled.

He glanced to the right and looked at the blond haired man occupying the passenger seat. His eyes were closed but Josiah could tell he wasn't sleeping. Something bothered him about the set of Chris Larabee's jaw. He noticed the man hadn't eaten anything at dinnertime and that he also seemed to be favouring his right side. He turned his gaze back to the road just as the blond doubled over in his seat, a groan escaping his clenched teeth.

Josiah Sanchez instinctively pulled the van to the side of the road, the resulting jolt awakening the other five members of the team.

"What did ya do that for, Josiah?" Wilmington asked, irritably blinking the sleep from his eyes.

"A little warning would be greatly appreciated next time, Mr. Sanchez," Standish said.

"Chris, are you alright?" Sanchez asked unbuckling his seatbelt and leaning across to check his friend.

"Will be in a second," Larabee hissed, his eyes closed tightly as he fought against the waves of nausea threatening to engulf him.

Vin Tanner sat directly behind his best friend and was instantly awake as Sanchez pulled the van to a stop.

"What's wrong with Chris, Josiah?" he asked worriedly.

"Don't know, Vin," Sanchez said, turning his gaze to the medic. "Nathan, you'd better come take a look."

Jackson was already out of his seat and moved to the front of the van as he heard Tanner asking what was wrong with Chris Larabee. Like Sanchez, he noticed the blond's decreased appetite and quietness at dinner time but put it down to fatigue. The seven members of The Firm had been attending a conference on the illegal use of firearms in Little Rock. They were all tired and glad to be on the way home. Normally they'd have flown but at the last minute decided to take the slower mode of transportation and maybe do a little fishing along the way.

Tanner shifted in his seat and let Jackson move in to examine their friend.

Jackson knelt in the opening between the two seats and placed his hand on the blond's forehead. He frowned as he felt the slight temperature. "Chris, can you tell me where it hurts?" he asked as he noticed the man holding his right side.

"Here, Nate," Chris said as he indicated an area of his lower abdomen.

"On a scale of one to ten with ten being the worst pain you've ever had how would this one rate?" Jackson asked.

"Depends, sometimes it's a five or six but right now it's a nine. Oh, hell," he swore as he doubled over in the seat.

"Easy, Chris, let me take a look at you," Jackson said, lightly prodding the area Larabee was holding.

Tanner watched as Nathan Jackson began a cursory exam in the van, wondering what could be wrong with his best friend. He pulled out his cell phone shaking his head in anger as he realized the mountains still interfered with the signal.

"Damn, Nathan, t...that hurts," Larabee hissed as sweat beaded on his forehead.

"How long has this been going on, Chris?" Jackson asked.

"Started just after the conference ended last night. Thought it must've been something I ate," Larabee said as the pain eased a little.

"Why didn't you say something then?" Jackson asked.

"Just thought it was indigestion or something," Larabee said, groaning softly as the pain picked up again.

"What is it Nathan?" Sanchez asked.

"Well I'm no doctor, but it looks to me like Chris is having an appendicitis attack. How far are we from civilization?" Jackson asked.

"We passed through a tiny place called Lost Valley about ten miles back. According to the map there's nothing else for another one hundred miles or so," Sanchez answered.

Chris groaned loudly as he doubled over again, the knife-like pain lancing through him as he struggled to catch his breath.

"Turn us around, Josiah. Hopefully there's a doctor back there who'll be able to help," Jackson said as he buckled himself into the seat Vin vacated for him.

"I'm alright," Chris said, sucking air through clenched teeth. "Let's just go home."

"No way, Chris, we go back and get you checked out first," Jackson said.

"Nathan, I'd rather not have some backwoods sawbones looking after me!" Larabee sighed as the pain dulled slightly.

"We don't have much choice in the matter, Cowboy, you're looking kinda green there," Tanner said as he slid across the seat beside Jackson.

"Hey, Pard, maybe you'll get lucky and the town's not so backwoods as you think. Maybe there's a lady doc and she'll give you her own version of tender loving care," Wilmington said trying to lighten the mounting tension.

"Then you let her examine you, Buck," Larabee hissed, holding his side in an effort to keep the pain at a minimum.

The six healthy members of The Firm listened as their friend moaned each time the van lurched over a rut in the road.

Chris leaned his fevered brow against the window and tried to hide just how much pain he was in. He bit his bottom lip, drawing blood as the van lurched over a particularly deep hole.

"Sorry, Brother," Sanchez apologized as he listened to the muffled groans. Sanchez pulled the van up in front of a tiny house with a vacancy sign over the door. The house looked as if it would fall over if he breathed on it. Yet it seemed to be the only excuse for a motel in the area.

Tanner jumped out of the van and hurried up to the door, aware of his friends watching him as he opened the broken screen and knocked loudly on the dilapidated door. Vin shoved his hands in his pockets to ward off the chill night air. He could see his breath in the tiny dull light from the overhead sign. He looked back at the door as it swung open to reveal an elderly man dressed in a moth eaten, dirt stained bathrobe.

"It's three thirty in the morning! What the hell do you want?" the man asked angrily.

"Sorry to wake you, but my friend's very sick," Tanner began.

"Whatcha want me to do 'bout it. This here's a motel not a hospital. Take him somewhere else," the man hissed, slamming the door in Tanner's face.

Vin saw the door closing and shoved his foot through the narrow opening. He reached out and grabbed the man by the grunge, covered bathrobe. Cold blue eyes filled with smouldering anger as he hissed.

"I don't want a room. I just want to know if there's a hospital or a doctor in town!"

"T...there's no hospitals 'round here," the man said shakily, his grizzled face covered in a fine sheen of fear.

"What about a doctor?"

"If'n ya let me go I'll tell ya where ta find the doc," the man muttered as he struggled to get away from Vin Tanner's strong hands.

Vin released his grip on the man's throat and watched as he stumbled backwards.

"Where can I find him?" Tanner asked.

The man reached up and rubbed at his throat before answering. "The only doc 'round here lives bout twenty miles down the highway. There's a side road takes ya up the mountain fer another ten miles or so and the doc lives at the end of the road."

"Is he a real doctor?" Tanner asked uncertainly.

"He's got all kinds a them licence thingys on his walls. So I guess he's real. He took out my Martha's gall bladder a few years ago and she's doin' just fine," the man explained.

"What's the name of the road we turn onto?" Tanner asked.

"Ain't no real name, but ya cain't miss it cause it has two big iron gates, with great big lion's heads on the top of 'em. They's never closed so ya just drive on in."

"Thanks," Tanner said as he raced back to the van.

'God help ya,' the old guy thought as he watched the young man hurry to the van.

"Is there a doctor?" Jackson asked as he watched Chris Larabee's face contort in pain once again.

"Josiah, drive east for about twenty miles. There's a gate with lion's on it. We have to turn onto the road and follow it to the end. The doc lives there," Tanner explained

"A real doc?" Jackson asked.

"According to the man who owns the motel," Tanner answered.

"Nathan, let's just drive on until we come to the next town," Chris said as he fought the agonizing fire in his side.

Sanchez looked up from reading the map he held and shook his head. "Nearest city is still two hundred miles east of here," he explained.

"Damn," Larabee swore as the pain in his side intensified.

"Josiah, take us to that doctor's home now," Jackson ordered as he sat back in his seat. He'd been watching the blond's face and worried that the appendix was close to bursting. If that happened the doctor was the only hope Chris Larabee had.

Sanchez turned the keys in the ignition and drove onto the paved highway, headlights shining at high beams as he kept an eye out for the turnoff. He knew Larabee was fighting to remain silent, but every now and then a soft moan escaped his tightly closed mouth.

"We should be coming up on the gate at any time so keep your eyes peeled," Sanchez said as he gazed straight ahead. "How're you doing, Chris?"

"I'm ok, Josiah," the blond answered weakly.

"There it is, Josiah," Wilmington pointed as he spotted the gates on the left side of the road.

Sanchez saw the turnoff as he passed them and slowly put the van in reverse. He turned unto the surprisingly smooth road and the van began to climb higher into the mountainous terrain.

"What could possibly have drawn a person of the medical profession to this godforsaken wilderness?" Standish asked as the brightening rays of dawn revealed nothing but rocks, broken trees and deadfall.

"I don't care what drew him to it as long as he can help Chris," Wilmington said.

"Vin, did that man tell you how far we have to drive?" Sanchez asked.

"He said the doc lives at the end of the road, about ten miles up," Tanner said.

"We've gone about eight miles since we turned off the highway," Sanchez explained as the ground around them fell away to the right revealing a deep, hollow gorge. "I hope we don't meet anyone coming the other way," Sanchez said as the road narrowed considerably.

"Let's go back," the blond mumbled, his body shivering with chills.

"Let's see what the doc says first, Chris," Jackson said.

"There's the house," Dunne said as he noticed a gabled roof above the tall treetops.

"Must be the place," Sanchez said.

The sight that met the six healthy members of The Firm made them sigh in relief. The seventh member was once again fighting the pain that invaded his side.

The house was a well kept modern two story with an immaculately sculptured sprawling green lawn. Four overhead lights brightly illuminated the grounds, one at each corner of the front yard. Flowers of all colors grew in abundance around hundred foot pines. The house itself was painted white and stood out starkly against the edge of the clearing. There were large columns on either side of a well furnished veranda. Two vehicles were parked to the right of the house, one was a jeep Cherokee the other a beautiful black Porsche that brought a smile to Ezra Standish's face.

"I must say he does have good taste," the gambler said as Sanchez pulled the van to a stop in front of the double doors.

"I'll see if anyone's home." Tanner opened the door and hurried towards the large home.

"Go with him, Buck," Larabee said, suddenly nervous of the picture perfect postcard in front of him.

"Sure thing, Stud," Wilmington agreed and hurried to follow the younger man up to the house.

Vin Tanner pushed the tiny round button impatiently, his face betraying his worry to the older man who joined him on the veranda. When the door wasn't answered a minute later he pressed the button again. The sound of the chimes continued as the door opened to reveal a man in his late fifties standing before him.

"Can I help you?" the man asked through a yawn.

Vin couldn't help but feel relieved at the sight of the tall distinguished looking gentlemen before him. His quick mind took in the balding head, round glasses, smoothly shaven face and kind eyes even as he spoke. "We were told there's a doctor living here," he said.

"I still have my licence to perform medical procedures," the man explained.

"Our friend needs help," Wilmington said.

"Where is he?" the doctor asked.

"He's in the van. Can you take a look at him?" Tanner asked hopefully.

"Sure. Bring him inside. I'll leave the door open," the man said as he turned back to the inside of the house. "Daisy, set up room two right away."

Tanner and Wilmington looked at each other as they hurried back to the van.

"Is he there," Jackson asked when they reached the van..

"Yep. He says to bring Chris inside," Wilmington answered.

"Josiah, give me a hand with him," Jackson ordered. He opened the door on the blond's side and placed his hand on his friend's trembling arm.

"I can walk, Nate," Larabee said as he slid off the seat. His legs threatened to give out as his feet hit the ground heavily.

"Lean on us, Brother," Sanchez smoothly slid his right arm under his friend's left shoulder, smiling as Jackson repeated the process on the opposite side. The two men supported their ill friend as they hurried up the steps and into the house.

Vin and Ezra moved to the doors of the house and opened them for the three men to enter the house.

"Bring him in here," the doctor ordered, watching as two men supporting another man between them entered the house. "Put him on the examination table!"

Tanner was glad to see the physician had taken the time to get dressed and was now wearing  a white shirt, black, well pressed pants, and a white lab coat.

Sanchez and Jackson helped Larabee sit on the edge of the bed. They were surprised and relieved to see the fully stocked examination room. Nathan couldn't believe the modern equipment the doctor had at his disposal, and a sense of calm washed over him.

Chris breathed heavily as he sat on the edge of the bed and waited for the pain to subside. Sweat beaded on his brow as he held his hand to his side.

"What's your name?" the older man asked as he stood in front of the pale blond.

"Chris Larabee."

"Well, Chris, I'm Clayton Moore and I've been a doctor for nearly thirty years. Do you think you can trust me to take a look at you?"

"Guess so," the blond answered weakly.

"If you gentlemen would wait outside I'll let you know what I find out," Moore suggested as he ushered the others out the door.

"I've had some medical training, Dr. Moore," Jackson said.

"Is that right?" the older man asked, his eyebrows rising curiously.

"Yes, Sir, been a fully trained medic for four years now."

"What's your name, Son?"

"Nathan Jackson."

"Well, Nathan, why don't you stay and give me a hand with your friend. Daisy will get the rest of you some breakfast while you're waiting," Moore explained as a young brunette joined them.

"I'll be right outside, Cowboy," Tanner said as the door closed behind them.

"Help me get him undressed, Nathan," Moore said as he reached for the buttons on Larabee's dark shirt.

"I can do it," the blond moaned.

"I don't doubt it, Chris, but right now we don't have time to wait for you to fumble with the buttons. From the looks of things you're on the verge of a ruptured appendix. Nathan, help him out of his shirt while I draw some blood," Moore ordered.

"You have a lab here?" Jackson asked as he helped Chris out of his shirt.

"I have everything I need, maybe not as good as the hospitals, but enough that I get along. I've lived here a lot of years and I've had to perform surgery on more than one occasion. My lab and this practice helped save a lot of folks in this area," he said as he drew four vials of blood from Larabee's forearm.

"Lie back, Chris," Jackson said when he finished removing the dark shirt.

Chris lay back with a gasp as the pain that seemed to have taken up residence in his side made itself known once again. He drew his right knee up in an effort to relieve it.

"Let me take a look," Moore straightened the blond's leg out and gently probed the tender area. "I don't think there's any reason to check the blood tests, Chris. This is definitely your appendix and from the amount of pain and tenderness you're having, it needs to come out now."

"Just give me something for the pain until we get home," Larabee said hopefully.

"It would take at least seven or eight hours for you to get to the nearest hospital, Chris, and you don't have that kind of time," Moore said.

"Can't you call for a medivac or something?" the blond asked.

"I've never had a phone line here and cell phones are all but useless because of the mountains," Moore laughed. "Relax, Chris, I've taken out my share of organs and the appendix is a simple procedure. Nathan, if you'd like to tell your friends what's going on I'll get Chris ready for surgery."

"Damn," Larabee swore as he felt his black jeans being removed.

Moore watched as the medic left the room and walked to one of the silver cabinets. "I'm going to give you a shot for the pain, Chris, and then we're going to set up an IV and put you to sleep. By the time you wake up it'll all be over with," he said as he filled a syringe from a bottle marked simply M. C. five. He slid the vial into his pocket as the door opened and Jackson came back in.

"What's that you're giving him?" the medic asked as he watched Moore swab his friend's elbow and expertly slide the needle into a vein.

"Just a little morphine for his pain," Moore pushed the plunger and sent the drug into the patient's arm.

"How are you doing, Chris?" Jackson asked.

"Lousy," was the one word reply.

"You'll be back to yourself in no time, Chris," Moore handed Jackson an IV kit, a bag of Saline, and antibiotics. "Get an IV started while I get my instruments ready."

"You sure we can't wait?" Jackson asked nervously. He hated the thought of performing surgery without the extra lifesaving equipment available in modern hospitals.

"He won't make it," Moore said as he took the sterile instruments from the unit. He turned away as a sudden scream of agony tore from the patient on the bed. He hid the smile that threatened to come over his face as the drug he'd given the sick man did its job and intensified the pain he was currently feeling. "It may be too late already," he said as he turned back to the patient and the medic.

Jackson watched Larabee's face contort in pain and immediately set up the IV and antibiotics. He watched as the doctor opened a bottle labelled Versed, filled a syringe and placed it into the juncture of the IV. "This will help put you to sleep, Chris, don't fight it," he said, filling a second syringe with anaesthetic and inserting it into the same juncture. He indicated that Nathan should place the oxygen mask over the blond's face.

Nathan watched as his leader's eyes closed and the lines of pain left his face. 'Damn, I wish Dr. Midland was here,' he thought as he watched Moore scrub his hands and indicate Nathan should do the same.

"I'm glad I received the new shipment of medical supplies last week" Moore explained as he watched Nathan place the mask over the patient's mouth and nose. "I was out of the anaesthetic gas you'll be using."

"I'm glad you did too," Jackson said as he started monitoring the patient's vitals.

"Looks like we're ready to begin, Nathan, let me know if you see any problems," Moore said as he readied Larabee's abdomen for surgery.

"Yes, Sir," Jackson said, biting his lip as he watched the doctor working on his friend.

 

Vin Tanner picked at the food on his plate, shoving the scrambled eggs back and forth. His eyes glued to the closed door of the room that held his sick friend. He dropped the fork and picked up the cup of hot black coffee. Sipping it slowly as he watched the others eagerly eating the breakfast the young woman named Daisy eagerly provided.

"You gonna eat that or play with it, Vin?" Wilmington asked.

Tanner pushed the plate aside as he continued to sip the coffee. "Not hungry right now, Buck. How long more do you think it'll take, Josiah?"

"I don't know, Vin. From what Nathan said they had to get the appendix out right away. It's only been a little over an hour so let's give them some more time," Sanchez said.

"Did anybody else recognize the Doctor's name?" Wilmington asked.

"The Lone Ranger," Sanchez said with a grin.

"Who?" Dunne asked.

"Clayton Moore was the name of the actor who played the legendary Lone Ranger in the old television series," Wilmington explained to the younger man.

"He was always helping people or rescuing them. Had a sidekick named Tonto," Sanchez said.

"Well that is good news," Standish said. "Mr. Larabee has a legend looking after him,"

"A legend or an actor?" Tanner asked "Chris doesn't need either of them. He needs a good doctor. Actually he needs Dr. Midland."

"Now, Vin, we'd all love Dr. Midland to be here and look after Chris, but there's no way he would've made it," Wilmington said. "Don't worry so much. Nathan's in there with the doc and he'll make sure nothing happens to Chris."

"I know you're right, Buck, but I can't help feeling nervous about the doctor," Tanner said as he stood up and walked out of the house.

Wilmington went to follow the younger man, but was stopped by Sanchez. "Give him some time, Buck," he said.

Buck looked at the older man and slowly nodded, recognizing the younger man's need to be alone.

 

 

Vin slowly walked to the edge of the clearing and looked out over the mountainous terrain. The sun shone overhead as puffy white clouds seemed to dip low over the mountains to touch the highest peaks. A path to his left caught his attention and he slowly walked along it, breathing in the scent of fresh air, trees, and wildlife. He loved the outdoors and felt at home when he was alone with nature.

He walked along the path , not really taking notice of where he was going as he wondered how his friend was doing. A small movement off to his right caught his attention and he frowned at the sight of a tall man, dressed in combat fatigues. His hair was thick and his face was covered by a thick beard and moustache. Vin was immediately reminded of an old movie he'd watched about a castaway.

"Hello," Tanner said as he walked closer to the newcomer.

The man's dark eyes met Vin's blue ones for an instant before he turned away and hurried into the thick forest.

"Hey, wait a minute. I'm not gonna hurt you," Tanner called as he ran to the spot where the man had disappeared. He remembered the look of sorrow the man gave him and the lost look in his sad, expressive eyes. He was on the verge of following him when he heard Buck's voice calling loudly.

"I'm coming, Buck," Tanner yelled, glancing one last time in the direction the man had disappeared. He turned away and hurried back up the path. "Is something wrong?" he asked as he re-entered the clearing.

"Chris is out of surgery," Wilmington said and didn't have a chance to say anything else as the younger man ran towards the house.

Vin stepped into the dull interior and glanced around until his gaze came to rest on the familiar form of the medic. "Nathan, how is he?" he asked worriedly.

Jackson set his coffee back on the table just as Daisy returned with a plate of breakfast and placed it in front of him. "Well, Vin, from the looks of things he's going to be fine. Dr. Moore is an excellent surgeon and he knew exactly what he was doing."

"Can I see him?" Tanner asked.

"Not yet. The doctor's still in with him, just making sure things are fine. He'll let us know when you guys can see Chris. But it may not be for awhile 'cause he's going to be sleeping off the effects of the anaesthetic. Dr. Moore will need us to move Chris into one of the rooms he's reserved for medical emergencies. He doesn't want him sleeping on the uncomfortable bed in the exam room," Jackson explained.

"How long will we need to stay here?" Dunne asked.

"At least a week or so," Jackson answered. "Orrin is not expecting us till the end of the week. I think a couple of you should head back to Billings and let him know what's going on."

"I'm not leaving," Tanner said.

"Me either," Wilmington agreed.

"Now hold on a minute," Sanchez told them. "None of us want to leave without knowing how Chris is doing, Nathan. As you said Orrin is not expecting us for another five days. Why don't we all hang out here for two more days and then if Chris is doing ok I'll drive into the next town and send word to Orrin."

Jackson looked at his friends and smiled. "I guess we all stay," he said as he started in on the large breakfast in front of him.