Part 11

“Damn,” Nathan said, his voice full of worry as he slapped the gambler’s face harder. “Don’t do this Ezra, wake up.”

Vin crawled onto the bed behind the gambler and put his hand on Nathan’s arm. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

The healer pulled back the light blanket covering his patient’s body and leaned over to rest an ear against his chest. He found the heartbeat but grimaced when he realized it wasn’t beating as strongly as it should. Ezra’s respirations were also sluggish and his skin was entirely too cool to the touch.

“Nate…”

“His body’s havin’ a hard time dealing with what it’s been through, it’s tryin’ to give out.”

Chris rose up off the table and pushed aside Buck’s restraining hands. “What do we do?” he asked tightly.

Nathan glanced over his shoulder. “Ain’t nothin’ you can do, Chris. Buck, get him back on the table and keep him there.”

Larabee opened his mouth to argue but Wilmington leaned into him and physically moved him away.

Jackson bent down to take the unconscious gambler in his arms. “Vin, yank those pillows outta there.”

“But Nathan, his shoulder,” JD warned.

“He ain’t feelin’ his shoulder, JD. Now go over there and get me another blanket.” Carefully he lowered Ezra to the mattress. “Vin, I need ya to loosen the sling holdin’ his arm.”

Vin did as Nathan instructed as the healer took the cover from JD and gently tucked it around Ezra’s unmoving body. He placed his slender fingers against his throat and felt for a pulse… weak, but there. He moved his other hand beneath his patient’s nose and waited until he could just feel the shallow exhalations brush his skin.

“Nathan?” Chris asked hoarsely.

“Don’t know,” was the clipped reply as Nathan sat on the bed and began checking Ezra’s bullet wound. He eyed the point of entry carefully before he pulled the motionless body toward him and had Vin check the exit wound.

“There’s a little blood but it looks okay,” the tracker advised.

“Good, can you put another bandage against it for me?”

Tanner carefully worked a small piece of folded cloth beneath the wrapping around Ezra’s waist and then helped Nathan settle him back onto the mattress.

“What now?” he asked.

“Now we wait. I seen this before. We need to keep him warm and when he wakes up we need to keep him still.”

“That’s it?”

“You might try talking to him, but keep your voice calm and quiet.”

“What about his feet?” asked JD.

“Every time we handle his feet, the pain puts him back with the Nichols. We need to let him recover some before we put him through that again.”

“Can we give him more Laudanum?”

“Afraid not, any medicine right now could kill ‘im. You’ve cleaned away a lot of the dirt; let’s just hold off ‘til this spell passes.”

Vin settled close to Ezra on the bed. “He will come outta this, right?”

Jackson went to a basin to wash his hands.

“Nate?”

“He’s been through a lot,” Nathan answered as he dried his hands.

“Yeah, but its Ezra, he’s tough,” JD said.

“He’s been tortured, JD, they didn’t just cut him up and whip him, they messed with his head. Did you hear him? ‘This time’, ‘this time they’d do it.’ They must’ve threatened him with somethin’ they knew would scare the hell out of him.”

“What do you think it was?”

“Got no way of knowin’, but Ezra’s mind ain’t lettin’ it go.”

“He’ll handle it,” the young man insisted.

Nathan saw the fear in JD’s eyes and realized how important Ezra had become to him. In fact, every face in the room held the same look of apprehension and he knew every man present would do whatever it took to keep him alive.

“He’ll handle it,” JD repeated, not sure if he was trying to convince Nathan or himself.

Grabbing the edge of the table, Chris dragged himself onto his side. “And if he can’t, we’ll help him. Believe it, JD.”

Dark eyes glistened brightly as JD accepted Chris’ words as truth.

The room fell silent.

“We need to make sure,” Chris said around a swallow, “the Nichols are caught. We have to f-find them.” He tried his best to pull his way up Buck’s arm, but he simply didn’t have the strength. He fell back onto the table cursing between pants.

Nathan moved quickly to his side. “Come on, Chris, you ain’t goin’ nowhere. We’re gonna go after that bullet in your gut then you’re gonna rest.”

The gunfighter would have disagreed, but he didn’t seem able to draw in a decent breath. He patted Buck’s hand to get his attention. “Send JD back to the jail… Josiah may need help.”

“You’re right, I’ve got a feelin’ those boys’ll come after their brother next,” Buck agreed. “JD, you think you can get back to Josiah without any trouble?”

“Sure, Buck.”

“Well, do it. And the two of you keep an eye out. As soon as we’ve helped Nathan take care of Chris and Ezra, one of us’ll be over to lend you a hand. We need to see about movin’ Nichols some place out of his family’s reach. Then we need to go after the three who escaped before they come back here lookin’ to shoot up the town again.”

“What about Mrs. Nichols?”

“She ain’t gonna be far from her boys -- we catch them, we catch her. Now you head on out and be careful.”

“I will. And you won’t let anything happen.” He motioned to Ezra and Chris.

“Count on it,” he said firmly and moved to the door to insure JD’s safe departure.

 

Part 12

“Chris, let us give you something for the pain. You ain’t helpin’ Ezra by sufferin’.” Buck captured his friend’s hand as it grabbed for something to hold on to.

“No,” Chris grunted, squeezing the fingers he found. “They’re still three of them on the loose. They’ll be comin’ back… If they find him, t-they’ll kill him.”

“I got news for ya, pard, you’re no safer than Ezra if those boys decide to show up.”

“I’m conscious… he’s not. I’m stayin’ that way ‘til…”

“‘Til when? You’re hurt bad and you need to let Nathan take care of you. I don’t think he fancies cuttin’ into your belly while you’re still able to pitch yourself off the table.”

“C-can’t let ‘em get to Ezra… he’s paid too high a price… already.”

“And you can protect him how?” Buck asked. “Look at you; you can’t even protect yourself right now.”

“Damn it, Buck… just keep me awake and hand me my gun.” Chris’ breathing was becoming more and more labored but he wouldn’t stop glaring until his weapon lay next to him on the table.

Nathan raised the clean cloth pressed over the gunfighter’s wound and saw fresh blood soak it through. “We have to get this bullet out now,” he warned.

“Do it,” Chris ground out between clenched teeth.

Buck looked at the healer helplessly and nodded in defeat as Nathan spread surgical tools on a clean towel near his friend’s head.

Larabee laid back and listened to the rattle of metal instruments as he tried to wipe the sweat from his eyes. Buck saw the pitiful attempt and reached for a damp cloth to gently wash away the moisture that had gathered around his eyes, cheeks and upper lip. He leaned close and asked softly, “You really wanna do this?”

Chris’ eyes burned with determination as he jerked his chin downward to signal he was ready. In truth, he wasn’t sure at all, especially when he felt Nathan’s cool hands push against his skin in an effort to judge the width of the wound. The sheer anticipation of what was about to happen nearly did him in. No matter how hard he tried to focus on the hand he held, when the healer inserted a slender metal probe into the hole in his abdomen he couldn’t ignore it. The instrument sank deeper and deeper until it finally reached the bullet, and when metal touched metal the sensation sent convulsive pain past his brain and into every muscle of his body.

Buck bent down, dried his face again and deliberately blocked his view of what Nathan was doing. It was bad enough he was going to feel the surgery; he sure as hell didn’t need to see it. He peeked over his shoulder as Jackson picked up a scalpel and held it just above the open wound. The dark man mouthed the words “hold him” and prepared to make the incision he needed to allow better access to the bullet. Buck turned his attention to Chris and discreetly held him down under the guise of wiping his face and neck.

Chris didn’t really notice the weight on top of him until Nathan pressed the surgical knife into his flesh and cut across the bullet hole. He growled and tried to rise. Buck shifted, let go of his hand and laid a forearm across his chest.

Nathan felt the muscles beneath his fingers twitch and tighten as Chris instinctively drew his knees up. This was ridiculous, how the devil did he think he could do this with his patient wound so tight he was about to snap. “Vin,” he called without turning, “how’s Ezra doin’?”

The tracker reached under the blanket covering the gambler’s body and put a hand to his chest before he leaned down to listen to his breathing. The heartbeat beneath his palm felt sluggish and the warm respirations against his cheek were uneven. “‘Bout the same, I think. Still shiverin’ like he’s cold.”

“Damn, I need you over here so you can hold onto Chris.”

Larabee heard the request. “N-no.”

Jackson decided to play the guilt card. “I don’t have a choice. You won’t let me put you out and I need those legs of yours still.”

“I w-won’t move.”

“You can’t help it. Every time I go for the bullet your body buckles. Now either let me give you somethin’ for the pain or Vin’s gonna have to hold you down. We’ll try to keep an eye on Ezra from here,” Nathan replied, praying the gunfighter would see sense.

Vin caught the look in Jackson’s eyes and knew what he was up to. “Should I be away from him, Nate? What if somethin’ happens? He’s shakin’ real bad.”

“Damn, he must be gettin’ worse, but I gotta have help here.”

Buck straightened and stared at the two behind him.

Chris raised his head and watched the tracker pull the blanket over the gambler and move to the side of the table. “N-no don’t…”

Vin pushed his knees down and leaned over them. “Alright, let’s do it.”

Buck eyed Ezra anxiously. “Nate?”

“We don’t have a choice.”

“But…”

Chris tried to roll himself off the table. “D-don’t leave him.”

“Hold still,” Nathan said as he snatched a bare shoulder slick with sweat. “Listen to me, Chris, maybe we can compromise. Vin can stay with Ezra if you let me give you somethin’ to take the edge off.”

Larabee eyed him suspiciously.

“It won’t knock you out, but maybe it’ll relax you enough to let me do what I gotta do.” Jackson watched the lawman think it over. “It’s that or you’re forcing me to risk Ezra bein’ on his own.”

“No,” he answered sharply, gripping the healer’s arm in turn.

“Okay then, let me get what you need and Vin can help Ezra.”

Chris’ agreement was nearly inaudible but he let go and silently waited for Nathan to fetch whatever it was he’d been blackmailed into taking. Tanner, seeing there would be no more argument, hurried back to the bed and began talking to the gambler in a low, soothing voice.

When Nathan returned with a cup of tea, he held the concoction to Chris’ lips and waited for him to take a sip. “Drink, I promise it’ll just help you relax.”

Chris frowned.

“I wouldn’t trick you, Chris. I won’t mess with you unless you mess with me. Now remember our deal and we all just might make it through the night.”

Larabee studied Nathan’s face and decided he could trust him. He downed the bad tasting liquid and pushed the cup away when he finished. Damn, but it was nasty stuff.

Buck smiled to himself, grateful his friend had consented to some relief before the surgery. He cooled the rag he held in the basin of water, wrung it out with one hand and draped it across Chris’ brow. The man was dog-tired but he wasn’t giving in, he kept blinking his eyes in a stubborn attempt to remain clear-headed. Buck knew he desperately needed an anchor so when Larabee’s trembling hand touched his arm, he quickly gathered it in his own and held tight.

Nathan checked on Ezra while he waited for the herbs he’d given Chris to take effect. Despite what the gunfighter had been told Ezra appeared to be gradually getting past the threat of shock. There was however a new danger rearing its ugly head – fever. He’d known from the beginning infection was inevitable; now it seemed he was right. The gambler’s body was struggling against the contamination of its wounds and his condition would likely get worse before it got better. He instructed Vin to watch him closely and moved to stand alongside Buck. He nudged the tall cowboy with his elbow and whispered, “Talk to him.” Then he aimed the forceps he picked up from the towel towards the large hole in Chris’ belly.

“Just hang in there, pard,” Buck said. “Nathan’ll have you fixed up in no time.”

Chris peered into the blue eyes hovering above him and tried to smile, but the expression twisted into a grimace when he felt the cold pressure of metal once again enter his body. The medicine he’d been given must have kicked in because he was unable to move his hips or raise his knees when he felt the need. His arms and shoulders also grew weaker and he was about to accuse Nathan of lying to him about the medicine when he felt the instrument in his body plow deeper. No, Nate hadn’t lied… he was still very conscious. He felt a foolish grin pull at his lips as he appreciated the fact his trust in the healer hadn’t been misplaced.

Buck caught the look and wondered if the pain was too much to bear. “You okay, buddy?”

Chris took a deep breath and nodded. The intrusion in his belly seemed to have a direct effect on his ability to speak… pain gets stronger, teeth clench tighter. When he felt Nathan push harder he nearly shattered every tooth in his head.

Buck heard the gunfighter gag. “Go ahead and yell if you need to.”

He was about to take his advice when he heard a sound… a sound that shouldn’t have been there, a sound that was just outside his own grunts and groans. He turned his head in search of the noise and saw a shadow near the window. The sun had just gone down, and even though the dusky dark could play tricks on a person, he knew without a doubt someone was there. He squeezed Buck’s hand tighter to get his attention. Buck simply squeezed back. He tried to rise, to reach for his gun, but his muscles had gone flaccid. It was happening, the one thing that terrified him most; the Nichols gang had come back and he was unable to protect his men.

Nathan continued to dig inside his body, completely focused on his work, but he had to stop him and get his attention. They had to see the danger. He took a deep breath and forced his lips apart. “Nngghhooo,” he finally spat out as he pushed against the weight on his chest.

Buck felt him twist and finally glanced down. The look on Chris’ face stopped him cold. He’d seen that look many times in the past and knew in an instant something was wrong. He didn’t hesitate to raise a warning. “Nathan,” he called. “Stop what you’re doin’.”

The healer didn’t look up. “Not now, Buck, I’m havin’ trouble holdin’ on to the damn thing.”

Chris groaned and pleaded with the man on top of him without having to say a word.

“Nathan, you have to stop now,” Buck said.

Jackson heard the alarm in Wilmington’s voice and pulled his bloody fingers from the body wriggling under his hands. “What is it?”

Larabee stared at the window and again saw the shadow cross it. A second later, he heard a scraping sound.

“Something’s got him upset,” Buck said, stroking a hand across Chris’ forehead as the gunfighter strained to look around him.

“Well yeah, Buck, we’re trying to dig a bullet from his gut while he’s still awake. I’d say he has every reason to be upset, but it’s his own choice.”

“It ain’t that.”

The gunfighter jerked and the atmosphere in the room changed. The hairs on the back of Nathan’s neck stood up and he suddenly understood Buck’s meaning. He’d learned long ago to trust the instincts of his leader and right now Chris’ body language was screaming trouble. There was definitely something else going on.

“Chris,” Nate said gently, resting a hand on his patient’s chest. “Chris, take a deep breath and tell us what’s got ya so worked up.”

Larabee took a long breath and exhaled slowly before he could force intelligible words past his lips. “Someone’s… outside.”

“It’s alright, you’re just in a lot of pain and the medicine is…”

“No… saw someone,” he insisted. “Heard them.”

Buck kept a firm hand around Chris’ wrist as he tried to get a better look. “I didn’t hear anything.”

“Well I did,” Vin said, watching the window and shuffling backwards off the bed. “He’s right, someone’s outside.” He grabbed the gun lying on the bedside table and ran to the door.

Chris dragged his free hand weakly from his chest to his side and fumbled for his weapon. This time he managed to loosely grip it as he rolled over to lean against Buck. The room seesawed around him as bright flares ignited behind his eyes. He sucked in a sharp breath and waited for the brightness to dim; unaware Buck had turned him loose and his own fingers now had a death grip on Wilmington’s arm. “G-go help Vin,” he wheezed.

A disembodied voice said, “I do that and you’ll find your ass on the floor.”

Chris tried to scoot one leg off the table.

“Un-unh, pard, just sit still, there’s no way you’re climbin’ down from there.”

A hand crept around his back and hauled him to where he started. The brilliant lights slowly faded and the room around him stilled, but before he could celebrate the return of his sight he felt a ripping pain slice through his belly and a disconcerting queasiness swell in his throat. He lowered his eyes to the wound in his stomach and saw a white bandage clinging to him, his own blood apparently serving as the adhesive. It was a chilling sight, and one he could have definitely done without since it raised his nausea to a whole new level, but he couldn’t seem to ignore it.

Buck felt Chris sag against him and knew he was about to cave in. He adjusted his hold to keep the gunfighter from toppling to the floor and called to Nathan. “Anything?”

Jackson had strategically placed himself between Ezra and the door and stood ready to defend should the Nichols try to enter the clinic. His jaw set, his back went rigid and a gun appeared in his hand. It was clear no one would get past him. He stayed that way, without so much as the movement of breath, until he saw Tanner come running back up the stairs. “Vin?”

“Chris was right, there was someone out there. I heard ‘em hit the bottom steps as I went out but I lost ‘em in the dark.”

“Damn,” Buck said, “had to be the Nichols.”

Vin nodded, shut the door behind him and went back to the bed to sit beside Ezra. He kept his gun close, never taking his eyes off the window.

Chris shifted against Buck, still clinging to him as if he were the only thing keeping him conscious. “We have to catch them.”

Wilmington turned, pulled Chris’ hands away and reached to take him bodily in his arms. “We will, buddy, we will. Now let’s get you on your back so Nathan can finish up.”

Chris offered no resistance as the tall cowboy hefted him up and carefully lowered him flat onto the table. Despite his best efforts, he was growing weaker and the feeling terrified him. He had to be ready to fight. So many times in the past he’d failed to shield those he cared about – Sarah, Adam. Even Hank had suffered because of him. Now they were all dead and here he lay useless.

Buck felt his chest tighten when he saw the play of emotions crossing Chris’ face. He’d seen that look before and knew exactly what was going through his mind. “Don’t do this, Chris. Ain’t none of this your fault.”

Sad green eyes turned away.

“I won’t let nothin’ happen to you or Ezra.”

Chris finally faced the gentle mustached face and nodded. He was about to say something but clamped down on the words when he felt Nathan’s hands on his belly again.

“Easy now,” Buck said when he saw Nathan reinsert the slender metal instrument into the bullet hole. Blood poured freely at an alarming rate but the healer merely wiped it aside and kept digging.

Larabee jerked beneath the pressure of his ministrations and groaned. “Buck,” he called. “Please… don’t…”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t… let me… pass out,” he answered in short gasps.

“Just let go, Chris. Don’t fight it.”

“Buck…” Chris sucked in a painful breath and blinked his eyes again.

“It’s alright,” Wilmington answered. “Ol’ Buck’s gonna watch your back. Just let go.”

Heavy eyelids fluttered lazily before they finally closed and Chris’ world slowly fell away.

 

Part 13

Chris stumbled through the darkness feeling the chill of night leech every bit of warmth from his body. He was tired, both bone weary and mentally exhausted, yet he knew he had to keep walking until he reached the orange glow beckoning him in the distance. Little by little he made his way across the desert, tripping over dry rocky earth and yanking free of the clawing brush that snagged his pant legs. Time passed painfully slow as he defied his body’s desire to give in, to collapse on the ground and pull the night into himself, but his heart crushed any plans his body made. There was someone who needed him and he’d be damned if he was going to fail another living soul.

The glow grew larger with each clumsy step. It also grew more visually intense as the muted orange of a moment ago became a striking array of vivid reds and yellows. After that there was the heat, inviting at first then overwhelming as tall flames reached out into the night seemingly to ensnare him. His aching limbs welcomed the warmth, but there again his heart overcame his body’s need and forced him to skirt the edges of the blaze as he neared a cavernous hole filled with flame.

He looked into the pit of fire and momentarily entertained the thought of throwing himself in. Some part of him craved the release it offered, but he ultimately found the cowardice of such an act so distasteful he decided against it. He narrowed his eyes against its intensity and searched its borders for the person he knew he’d find. There not twenty feet from him, Ezra stood, hunched over, arms bound behind his back and bare feet touching the very rim of the burning crater. His lean form shook with fatigue, or fear, or a combination of both, and when Chris caught his eyes with his own he saw hopelessness and despair. It was as if the heat from the pit below was sucking the life from the Southerner and he had to do something to stop it.

“Ezra!” he shouted above the crackling of the fire below. “Don’t move!”

The gambler’s haunted eyes stared at the flames as they snaked their way from the pit and licked at his feet. The desire to move away was evident, written all over his face, but his body wouldn’t oblige. Instead, one foot slid closer, actually curling over the edge. Large tears filled his eyes as they stared blindly into the fire. “You can’t save me,” he said with a husky voice as he choked on heavy black smoke.

The gunfighter clambered over ash-covered rock. “I can, Ezra, just don’t go any closer.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about, just stay put. I’m almost there,” Chris answered with a grunt as his foot slipped off a slippery stone.

“I didn’t know he’d come back.”

“I know you didn’t, just hang on. I’m almost…there.”

Chris cleared the rocky perimeter ringing the well of flame and stood within ten feet of the man he meant to save. It was then he heard the familiar sound of a gun being cocked. He searched the smoky haze surrounding Ezra’s head and caught the glint off the barrel of a gun, his own gun. His eyes followed the barrel to the hand of Hank Connelly and he unconsciously stumbled back when he saw the look on his father-in-law’s face. Fury, betrayal and revenge filled Hank’s being and Chris knew it was every bit aimed at him despite the gun being held to the gambler’s temple.

“Hank, what are you doing?”

“Just giving you what you want.”

“What I want? I don’t want this, Hank, let him go.”

“And deny you the joy of seeing someone you supposedly care about burning in the fires of hell?”

“What are you talking about? I don’t want this. I never wanted this. Just put the gun down and let’s get the hell out of here.”

“No,” Connelly said, forcing the gambler to lean over the pit.

“Hank, don’t do this. Shoot me if you want, but let him go!”

The old man’s face cracked a smile that turned Chris’ stomach. It was a smile of madness, which came dangerously close to resembling evil. In an instant, Hank turned the gun from his original target and pointed it towards him. It exploded, adding its own little puff of smoke to the fire’s larger cloud and sending a bullet straight into Chris. The impact doubled him over and sent him to the ground.

“Say goodbye, Chris Larabee, to another lost soul,” Hank said, laughing.

Before the wounded man could gather his wits, Connelly had Ezra by the neck and shoved him over the rim of the crater. Chris watched helplessly as the Southerner twisted just enough to reveal a face filled with terror, then screamed as he fell from view into the raging inferno below.

Chris fumbled to cover his stomach with his hand as he rolled over and scrambled to the rim of the deadly blaze. The expression on Ezra’s face lingered in his mind as he sought the hungry flames for any signs of his friend’s remains. But he was gone, burning at the bottom of the cauldron beneath him. He pulled away from the hole and dropped to the ground, curling around both the wound in his belly and the ache in his soul. Not again, it couldn’t happen again. Then he heard the sound of boots near his head and knew Hank was standing close. He turned his sight upwards into the troubled eyes of his wife’s father.

“Yes, again,” Hank said hoarsely as he knelt down, raised the gun to his own head and pulled the trigger.

Chris watched in horror as the gun blast blew away half the man’s head and knocked his body backward into the dirt. He raised bloody hands to his face and cried out in mind numbing pain.

 

M7M7M7M7M7M7M7 

“No!! Chris cried as he tried to bury his head deeper into folded arms. His brain was so full of unbearable memories he felt it would explode. He squeezed his head between his elbows and tried to force away the horrifying images of Sarah, Adam, Ezra and Hank. He was certain his mind was surrendering to his conscience as vivid pictures of fear and death flooded his soul. It was finally happening, he was losing the battle he’d fought for so long and it was clear his sanity lay forfeit. Like Hank, he would fall into madness. Perhaps that was the best he could hope for, to drift away from reality and lose himself in a world of delusion and indifference. He thought of how it would be to live without the ache in his heart and the remorse in his soul. At the moment it was the most tempting prospect he’d ever known. But as seductive as it was he knew at his very core a life of apathy was not what his family and friend had bequest. He owed them the memory of their importance in his life and that meant he had to fight. Unfortunately, fighting meant more pain and already the agony in his skull had grown so severe he feared it may be too late. In desperation, he began clawing at his head. He would fight. If he had to physically remove each terrifying memory with his bare hands, he would do it.

Please, God, let me do it.

Give me the strength to end it.

Just make it…

“Stop… make it stop!” he screamed until he could actually feel his own voice push away the threat of madness. He would stay in his own head, suffer his own past and gladly remember those he’d cared about and loved no matter the price.

“Chris!” a voice called from the distance.

He was so startled by the sound, he couldn’t help but listen.

“Come on, Chris, let go!”

Strong hands grabbed at his wrists and pulled them away from his head. He fought back, tried to loosen the hold, but whoever had him was determined in their efforts to break through. He pushed his assailant to arm’s length hoping to create enough room to defend himself with his legs, but the moment he raised his knees his middle seized with crippling pain. His body jerked hard as his lungs sucked for air.

“Chris, settle down,” the voice shouted.

A deep, hacking cough took hold of him and any chance for escape was gone. He fell back, drained, surrendering to whatever the fates had planned. His entire body burned, most likely from being too near the flaming pit, and every muscle twitched out of control. “Stop,” he muttered in a last ditch effort to save himself, “p-please stop…”

“Easy, Chris,” the voice said softly, “you’re all right; just settle down.” The strong hands, still firmly gripping his wrists, pulled his fists together and held them to his chest.

He took another harsh breath and listened to the reassuring tone hanging above him. Repeatedly the voice spoke promises of safety but it wasn’t until the hands let go he believed it. An oppressive heat still clung to him but as the agonizing pain in his belly subsided to a more manageable level, he felt the flames within lessen. A cool hand came to rest on his forehead and he heard the voice say, “Easy, that’s it. Don’t try to do anything right now except breathe.” A moment passed before the voice spoke again but this time it didn’t seem to be addressing him. “He’s gettin’ real warm, what d’ya think?”

Another hand, colder than the one before, touched his cheek. “You’re right; fever’s startin’ to take hold. I figured it would seein’ he left that wound so long without treatin’ it. Now I’ve got two patients in trouble.”

A heavy sigh preceded a long pause and then a sloshing sound came within inches of his head. “Bathe him. Keep him as cool as ya can. And try to wake him enough to get some of this tea down him.”

A groan sounded nearby.

“You go,” the first voice said. “I’ll take care of him.” Footsteps walked away, and then the hands were on him again. “Chris?”

The gunfighter tried to swallow but there was so little moisture in his mouth he couldn’t manage it. He pressed his lips together and nearly whimpered when he couldn’t even muster enough saliva to wet them with his tongue.

“Easy there, pard,” the voice said just before something soft was pressed against his mouth.

A damp rag dabbed at his lips several times before it moved over the rest of his face. When it washed away the crustiness around his eyes it dawned on him he hadn’t tried to open them. Perhaps now that they didn’t feel as if they’d been glued shut he could manage to crack them enough to see who was wiping his neck and arms. Concentrating his attention on his eyelids, he finally felt them flutter open and saw a large dark silhouette, backlit by daylight, looming over his upper body.

He heard the gentle voice begin to mumble words of worry. When he realized the concern was meant for him he made an effort to reassure whoever was there he was fine. He tried to lick his lips again and drew a careful breath, then relaxed and tried to speak. The words he’d chosen in his mind left his mouth a garbled mess, but at least whoever was fretting over him stopped rubbing his skin with that cold rag and came closer for him to see. It took several seconds to focus on the face beaming down, but when he saw who it was he felt an overwhelming relief wash over him.

“B-Buck?” he asked, making sure he wasn’t dreaming.

A hand came to the side of his head and moved it just a little so he was actually facing his friend and not the dark blob, presumably a piece of furniture, over his shoulder. A wide grin greeted him as he clearly made out the man’s features. “Yeah, pard, it’s me,” Buck said, a nervous chuckle betraying his fear. “How do ya feel?”

The gunfighter thought about it for a second. “Like hell. What happened?”

“You passed out while Nathan was diggin’ for that slug you caught.”

A look Buck had seen many times crossed Chris’ face.

“I know you’re pissed we didn’t keep you awake, but I reckon your body had other plans.”

“Ezra!” Larabee cried as memory returned. He tried to pull away from the well-meaning cowboy and get off the cot he’d been laid on, but Buck’s hands were instantly, and successfully, pushing him back to the thin mattress.

“Whoa there, he’s right here.”

“I-I heard him screaming,” Chris said, his brain still fuzzy.

“You probably did, Nathan and Vin worked on those feet of his for a long time,” Buck replied, looking sadly over at the man on the bed.

Chris followed his friend’s gaze and caught sight of Ezra, looking very small amongst the large number of pillows and blankets piled around him. His face was drawn and pale in the afternoon light and the dark chestnut hair matted to his forehead emphasized how completely drained of life he was. Dark circles beneath his eyes attested to the gambler’s lack of sleep and the convulsive twitches in his arm and legs, visible even from where he lay, bore evidence as to how much pain he felt despite being unconscious.

“H-how bad?” he asked.

Wilmington tore his eyes from Ezra and set about rewetting the cloth in his hand.

“Buck, how bad?

The ladies man reached the cloth to Larabee’s brow, but Chris weakly grabbed the arm in his face and moved the rag away. “Tell me.”

Buck hadn’t wanted to add to the guilt his friend had assumed, but knew he couldn’t keep Ezra’s condition a secret. “One of his feet wasn’t cut too deeply. Nathan pulled the glass out without much trouble and stitched up the worst gashes.”

“And his other foot?”

“His right foot was hurt worse. The glass pieces were larger and deeper. Some were broke off inside and Nathan had to cut into him to get ‘em out. The knife wounds were… more vicious, and…”

Chris waited for Buck to finish.

“And his ankle’s broken.”

“Broken? I thought they used a bottle and a knife. How did his ankle get broken?”

“It must have happened after I left,” Nathan said bleakly as he entered the room from the back and moved to Ezra’s bedside. He felt the gambler’s face and checked his eyes before he shook his head and took up a seat next to Buck. “I suspected it was broke when you brought him in.”

“But how?”

“From the looks of the bruising on his lower leg, I’d say it was stomped. I found marks on him shaped a lot like the heal of a boot.”

“Stomped?” Chris repeated angrily as he sat up on the cot, this time roughly shoving Buck’s groping hands aside. “To stomp a man you have to have him on the floor. You mean after they mutilated his feet, they dumped him in the floor and deliberately stomped on him?”

Nathan rose from his chair and pushed on the gunfighter’s shoulders trying to keep him from leaving the cot. “Chris, sit down before you bust those stitches I put in ya!”

“So help me, when I catch those bastards…” He was so angry he couldn’t see straight, but anger could only carry him so far before he began to shake beneath the healer’s hands and dropped back onto the cot.

“Just keep still, Chris, you ain’t in any shape to take on the Nichols right now.”

“Why, Nathan, why do that to him?”

“Chris, these people have a way of thinkin’ that’s so far outside normal I can’t begin to know why. The best I can figure is they wanted to break him, to teach him a lesson for crossin’ ‘em. I just got back from settin’ John Nichol’s arm over at the jail. That boy ain’t right in the head or the heart. Josiah’s been tryin’ to talk to him, to make him understand that what he and his family’ve done was wrong and that he’s in serious trouble, but he ain’t listenin’. He just keeps spoutin’ off about how we’re all gonna pay.”

The gunfighter shook violently, both from fury and pain. “Damn it, how could I let this happen?”

“Aint’ none of this your fault,” Buck said.

“Yes, Buck, it is. If I’d paid more attention to the situation here in town instead of runnin’ off with Hank, I’d’ve known what the Nichols were up to. I’d’ve seen Ezra had set himself up and been here to stop what was bound to happen.” He rubbed at his face. “My God, what they did to him.”

“What ‘they’ did to him, Chris, it wasn’t you. You couldn’t have known what their aim was.”

“Has he come to yet, Nathan?” he asked into his hand, not raising his head.

“No, he’s been outta his head mostly. Every time we doctor his wounds, he thinks he’s bein’ tortured again.”

“So he doesn’t even realize he’s safe now.” He heard the room go silent and looked up at the two men beside him. “What? He is safe now, right? He ain’t gonna die.”

Seeing the gunfighter was about to launch himself from the cot again, Nathan put a reassuring hand on his arm and said, “No, it ain’t that. If we can get his fever down and prevent more infection from settin’ in I think we can get him through this.”

“You think?”

“I can only treat what I see. Some of the things he’s sayin’ in his sleep worry me; they messed with him pretty bad. We’re just gonna have to watch him and take it one step at a time.”

“Then there’s something else,” he said, getting so riled Buck moved next to him on the cot and put an arm around his shoulder to hold him still. “Stop playin’ games, just tell me.”

“It’s no game, Chris,” Buck answered. “There’ve been two fires in town since last night. Vin’s gathered some of the town folk to help put them out.”

“The Nichols, the three who escaped mean to terrorize the town. So help me, I’m puttin’ an end to that family now.” He tried desperately to get up but his friend was prepared. The hand around his shoulder grabbed his bare upper arm while the other pressed firmly against his chest. “Damn it, Buck, let go!”

“No way, you’re as weak as a newborn, you ain’t goin’ nowhere. Besides that, you seem to be forgettin’ that the Nichols are most likely gonna come after you before anybody. ”

“I reckon I deserve what I get.”

Buck felt a cold dread run through him at the sound of those mumbled words. “You don’t really believe that, it’s just the fever talkin’. You know none of this is your fault. If Hank had had a better grip on reality…”

“If Sarah and Adam hadn’t died he’d of had a better grip! He was right, Buck, I wasn’t there to protect them.”

“Neither was he, neither was I. I loved them too, Chris, I loved them like they were my own family. That little boy of yours, he was as near to having a son as I’m ever likely to know. I understand your guilt -- hell, I share it. I was the one who talked you into stayin’ that extra day.”

“It was my respons … my responsibility,” he stuttered, “not yours!” He leaned forward and tried to pull free as he worked an arm over the hand holding his chest. He yanked hard but was quickly reminded by a tearing pain in his stomach that he’d just had a bullet removed. He doubled over suddenly and would have fallen to the floor had Buck not caught him.

“Dang it, Chris, you gotta stop this,” Buck yelled as he shoved his friend back onto the cot.

Nathan moved in and quickly scooped Chris’ feet onto the mattress. He held them and watched as Buck bent down and once again grabbed his wrists.

“Listen to me, pard, and listen good,” Wilmington said firmly. “You need to stay down and let me do the worryin’ right now. I swear to you, ain’t no one here planning on lettin’ the Nichols get away with what they’ve done. This ain’t just your fight any more, it’s ours. They hurt one of our own. Ain’t nobody doin’ that and getting away with it. You got that?”

Chris wanted to answer, but couldn’t. He hurt so badly he couldn’t manage much more than a groan and a fist slammed against the frame of the cot.

Buck shook his head, put his hands on his hips and turned to Nathan. “You think we oughta tie ‘im to the bed?”

“Only if the bed’s nailed to the floor.”

Buck ran a hand through his dark brown hair. “What are we gonna do with him? He ain’t gonna stop tryin’ to catch the Nichols no matter how much danger he puts himself in.”

“Then I reckon we best be tryin’ to stop the Nichols. If he keeps this up, we won’t have to worry about them killin’ him, he’ll do it himself.”

Wilmington agreed and wondered where he could find some large nails.

 

PARTS 1-4 / PARTS 5-7 / PARTS 8-10 / PARTS 14-16 / PARTS 17-18 / PARTS 19-20 / PARTS 21-23 / PARTS 24-26 / PARTS 27-28 / PARTS 29-30 / PARTS 31-32 / PART 33 / PART 34

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