Vin Tanner’s ears roared as he walked the boardwalk between the jail and Nathan’s clinic; the sound of flames burning out of control and the shouts of men fighting to put them out echoed in his mind with a rush. He’d spent half the night and most of the day extinguishing fires presumably set by the Nichols family in retaliation for the gun battle the day before. Although he hadn’t had time to help clear the bodies littering the street, he had been witness to their removal as he battled the fires hoping to prevent new deaths being added to the count. Three of the Nichols’ boys were currently at the undertakers being cleaned up and fitted for sturdy coffins so they could be transported back to Kansas City. They would be sent to the undertaker’s office there and released to the appropriate family members. Hank Connelly presented a different problem; they knew Chris would probably want the old man sent home to be buried with his own wife, but where exactly was home? He’d have to ask the gunfighter when he woke up.
The tracker shook his head in an effort to quiet the roar. So much needless death, he thought, all for nothing. Death and suffering that should never have happened. He thought of how Ezra had been tortured for trying to do the right thing. He’d wanted nothing more than to protect Chris and to shield someone Chris cared about, even if the gunfighter was reluctant to admit he did indeed care. The gambler had displayed amazing courage and Vin felt his heart swell with pride at the thought. Then his heart nearly broke when he recalled the image of the man being handed down to him from the Nichols’ carriage, broken, bleeding and half dead. He’d paid a heavy price for doing the right thing.
He removed his hat and ran a hand over his scalp and through his long hair. He supposed he should have taken a moment back at the jail to wash away some of the ash and dirt that had adhered to his body, but despite the available water basin and towel he simply couldn’t force himself to be around the youngest Nichols’ boy. In the short time he’d been at the jail to check on JD and Josiah, John Nichols had gotten on his nerves so much he’d wanted to shoot him where stood -- the man was more than arrogant, he was callous and self-righteous. He honestly had no regrets that he and his family had sadistically threatened an entire town, mutilated Ezra and killed Hank Connelly. He didn’t think any of the Nichols knew about Chris being hurt which was probably a good thing since as far as they were concerned they were the victims in all this. Now, despite three brothers being dead and one in jail because an old woman decided she alone should mete out justice, three surviving sons would be expected to continue menacing the town in order to fulfill her desire for retaliation. He understood her loss, her pain, but she was out of control and he was beginning to think she wouldn’t be happy until she’d killed everyone in her path, including her own children.
Damn, he could use a drink. He gave thought to actually stopping by the saloon and picking up a couple bottles of whiskey to take to the clinic, but stopped himself cold when he remembered Ezra’s last encounter with a whiskey bottle. He suddenly lost his taste for liquor and headed instead for the General Store. He remembered Nathan had been running low on bandages after he’d wrapped Ezra’s wounds so he thought he’d make himself useful and gather a few supplies. “Afternoon, Mr. Hobson,” he said as he entered.
The shopkeeper, who stood low on a small ladder near the back of the store, startled and twisted too quickly. He lost his balance and fell awkwardly to the floor. He wiped his hands on his apron before he moved clumsily behind the counter. “Oh afternoon, Mr. Tanner, I didn’t see you there.”
“Didn’t mean to scare ya none. You okay?”
“Fine, fine, just a little nervous what with everything that’s been happening lately,” he replied, taking in the tracker’s disheveled appearance and eying the floor. “I just wasn’t expecting you to come in here.”
Vin looked down at himself and discovered he was dropping a trail of ash. “Dang it, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was makin’ such a mess.”
“Don’t worry yourself about a little dirt, Mr. Tanner, a broom’ll take care of that in no time. I meant I’m surprised to see you after your hard work battling those fires. You must be out on your feet.”
“Yeah, I’m a little tired. I just thought I’d pick up a few things for the clinic.”
“Well certainly, what did you have in mind?”
“Bandages mostly, maybe some more laudanum, and some of those dried herbs Nathan favors for his teas. Do you know which ones he uses?”
“I certainly do, it’ll only take a few minutes to package everything up for you,” he said as he fidgeted with his apron.
“Thanks, I think I’ll sit a spell over here outta the way and wait.” Vin watched as Hobson hurriedly gathered the supplies, wrapped them in brown paper and tied the bundle with heavy string. “Mrs. Hobson not workin’ today?”
“No… yes, she’s probably working in the stockroom.”
“Please tell her I was askin’ ‘bout her.”
“I will. I think that’s everything you needed. Um, pardon my asking, but how is Mr. Standish doing?”
“Not too good right now, but I reckon Nathan’ll fix him up. How much does all this come to?”
“Don’t you worry about the cost.”
“I ain’t takin’ goods without payin’.”
Hobson leaned close, lowered his voice and said, “After all you and the others have done to protect this town, Mr. Tanner, this is the least I can do. Please, take it.”
“But…”
“Please.” A gentle hand reached for his wrist as he pushed the package away. “Take the supplies.”
The tracker looked into the eyes behind the spectacles and read their sincerity. “Thank you.”
Hobson smiled before he turned to greet his next customer. “Hello, Mrs. Travis.”
“Afternoon, Mr. Hobson, Vin,” Mary replied, gracing both men with a soft smile of her own.
“Ma’am,” Vin said, tipping his hat and stepping out of her way so he wouldn’t dust her with ash.
Mary made note of his attempt and motioned him to stand still. “I must say you look ready to drop. I know you’ve been trying to pull everyone together to keep an eye on things but maybe it’s time for you to get some rest.”
“I will once we find Mrs. Nichols and her boys. Speaking of which, you should be careful walkin’ ‘round town ‘til we’ve caught ‘em.”
“I have an escort just outside that door.”
He raised an eyebrow.
Mary grinned. “Archie Sanders saw me leave my office and insisted on walking me over here.”
Vin knew Archie from the Barber Shop. He was an older gentleman, but he was damned good with a gun. “I reckon he can look after ya.”
“Yes. Now, Mr. Hobson, I’m in need of a few things. With everything that’s been happening I’m afraid my cupboard has gone quite bare. Speaking of which, Vin, have you boys been eating?”
When he took too long to answer, Mary gave the storekeeper a list of more items to gather. “I was planning on making some bread and stew. I’ll just throw a couple more potatoes in the pot and bring some over to the jail and the clinic. Would that be alright with you?” she asked eyeing Vin as he licked his lips.
“You don’t have to do that, Mary. We can round up something from the hotel.”
“Are you saying you don’t like my stew?”
“No, ma’am, I remember that stew of yours when I was sick last winter. I know for a fact it was what cured me and not Nathan’s potions.”
She laughed and so pleasant was the sound Vin felt the roaring in his ears fade away. “Well now, I think we’d better keep that our little secret or Mr. Jackson may get his feelings hurt.”
“You’re right,” he agreed, a little embarrassed. “I’m headin’ back to the clinic now to help him with Ezra. I can walk you back to your place first though if ya like.”
“Thank you, but I wouldn’t want to hurt Archie’s feelings either.” She suddenly became very serious. “Uh, Vin, how is Ezra? Will he be alright?”
“We hope so. Nathan’s doin’ all he can.”
“I only caught a glimpse of him when the Nichols had him at the hotel, hanging…” She couldn’t bring herself to finish. “He looked terribly hurt. I’ve never seen anyone abused so badly. I just don’t understand how anyone could do that to another person?”
Vin saw Mary blink away tears threatening to spill from her gentle blue eyes. “It’s alright, Mary, try not to think on it.” He risked smearing her hand with ash as he took it into his own.
“I have to think about it. We all have to. Ezra Standish helps protect this town. He’s one of our own, even if he tries to deny it sometimes.”
The tracker smiled at that. “You know him pretty well.”
“Oh, he’s not so difficult to understand. He’s actually a very charming person.”
Vin pulled back in surprise and watched her turn away just long enough to discreetly wipe at her eyes. “Well, how ‘bout that. Ezra has a fan.”
She turned back and caught the amusement on his face. “Now Vin, he’s a very kind soul, if a little withdrawn at times. He’s a good fit with you and the others and this town needs you all. Would you please tell him… tell him…” she struggled for the right words.
“Don’t you worry none, I’ll tell him.” He patted her fingers before he released her.
“I take it Chris has been helping at the clinic as well.”
Vin paused for just an instant, thinking he should probably tell her Larabee had been wounded in the rescue, but changed his mind when he saw other customers enter the store. “Yes ma’am, he’s got his hands full right now.”
“I’m sure,” she answered. “Please tell him I’m very sorry about what happened to his father-in-law.”
“I will, Mary. I’d best be gettin’ over to the clinic. Tell Archie to keep his eyes peeled.” Tanner nodded his thanks to the clerk, tucked the package beneath his arm and headed out the door.
Part 15
Buck laid a hand across Chris’ brow and blew a long sigh of frustration when he realized the gunfighter’s fever was gaining momentum. If they could keep him still and quiet he would probably recover his strength within a few days, but Buck had every idea, given his friend’s state of mind, ‘still and quiet’ were too much to hope for. His suspicions were confirmed when Chris weakly swatted his hand away and mumbled something about ‘leaving at first light.’ Buck glanced out the window to see the sun positioned high in the sky and knew Chris was dreaming. The man could be as stubborn as a mule and just as ornery if he was of a mind to – awake or asleep.
Feeling as if the chair he occupied was growing to him, Buck twisted around and slowly stretched the muscles in his back. He spotted Nathan anxiously crossing and uncrossing his arms as he paced back and forth opposite Ezra’s bed. Eventually he settled himself on the mattress, but he looked worried, more worried than Buck had ever seen him. “Nathan?”
Oblivious to Buck’s attention, Nathan leaned over to tug at some of the bandages across Ezra’s chest. The gambler tried to roll away but a firm hand pulled him onto his back again and the examination of the angry red wounds continued. Not for the first time since his fever had developed, Ezra mumbled in unintelligible gibberish. The slurred words intermittently hosted deep groans and occasional terrified cries and the healer knew exactly what demons haunted his patient’s mind. Nathan, apparently displeased with his own handiwork, moved down Ezra’s body to check the bindings holding his arm in place and the bandages circling his middle.
“Nathan?” Buck repeated.
Jackson looked up to see Wilmington standing next to him.
“You okay?”
“Me? I’m good, but Ezra…”
“His fever?”
Jackson let go the wrappings around the Southerner’s waist and for what seemed like the hundredth time put a hand against his cheek to gauge his temperature. “It’s much higher than before, he’s wearin’ out.”
“He ain’t the only one who’s wearin’ out. Why don’t you go get some rest? I can watch these two.”
Nathan didn’t answer; instead he stared at Ezra as if contemplating what to check next.
“What is it? What’s eatin’ at ya?” Wilmington moved to sit on the chair next to the bed.
“It’s nothin’.”
“I’ve never known ya to worry over nothing, Nate.”
The healer didn’t raise his dark brown eyes, but after a long pause, he did eventually speak. “It’s somethin’ Chris said -- about Ezra not knowin’ he’s safe.”
Buck waited and listened.
“He’s right. Ezra ain’t come ‘round long enough to know where he is. We keep tellin’ him, but he doesn’t understand. The nightmares he’s havin’ are keeping him with the Nichols and I’m afraid the longer he’s with them the harder it’ll be to bring him back in one piece.”
“The fever’s causing the nightmares, right?”
“Partly, but I have a feelin’ there’s something else goin’ on. I’ve been listening to him, trying to figure out what he’s rememberin’, but I can’t understand most of what he’s saying,” Nathan answered, fidgeting with the white bandage around Ezra’s wrist.
“You’re worried the Nichols really did do something to him we’re not seeing.”
Jackson’s eyes revealed a look of dread. “Maybe, I reckon I won’t know for sure ‘til he wakes up.” Again there was a long pause. “Damn it, what was I thinkin’ leavin’ him alone with them? Why the hell did I walk outta that hotel when I knew they’d hurt him, that they’d already hurt him?”
“You didn’t have much choice.”
“I coulda fought back, maybe given him a chance to get a way.”
“If you hadn’t left when you did they coulda killed him outright. They could’ve killed you both, and don’t think they wouldn’t have done it. As it is, we got him back and he’s got you to take care of ‘im.”
Nathan looked away obviously reluctant to let himself off the hook so easily.
“Things could have been much worse if you hadn’t come after us when ya did. He was pretty far gone by the time we got to him and you know better than anyone he couldn’t have lasted much longer. Be grateful we got him back alive.”
“I am grateful, Buck. It’s just… they came after me to get their hands on him and he let ‘em. He gave himself up to stop them hurtin’ me. He did everything they told him, no matter how bad it was.”
“Did you think he’d wouldn’t?”
“No… I don’t know.”
“You sure? Maybe deep down you expected him to save himself. Come on, Nathan, sometimes we all tend to think of Ezra as a self-serving son-of-a-bitch, but ya gotta know that’s just how he likes people to think he is, how he keeps himself safe. Since he’s joined up with us though, he’s proven he’ll do whatever it takes to protect us and this town.” Buck rose from his chair, walked to the window and pulled the curtains aside.
“I know I haven’t cut him much slack,” Nathan finally said, “but I swear he does things sometimes just to piss me off.”
Buck almost laughed. “I ain’t sayin’ he don’t deserve a boot in the ass sometimes, but there’s no doubt he deserves our faith in him.”
The healer’s face gentled as he brushed aside the hair matted to Ezra’s forehead and pressed a palm to his skin.
Buck could see Nathan mull over what he’d said. “Come on, pard, give it up. You’re gonna wear him out checkin’ his fever every two minutes. Go on and get yourself some rest. Like I said, I can keep an eye on things here.”
Again Ezra tried to pull away from Jackson’s touch but soon settled after he rolled himself into what must have been a more comfortable position. Nathan stood, circled the bed and returned his patient’s broken ankle to the pillow on which it had been resting. “I wish I could get more of that tea down him. I need him still so he can heal.”
“He’s taken some of it, hasn’t he?”
“Not enough.”
“We’ll keep trying. Now go, Nathan, lie down for a spell.”
“You can’t handle ‘em on your own, Buck. If Ezra starts yellin’ in his sleep you know damn well Chris is gonna be back on his feet tryin’ to help him.”
“I can call you.”
“I’d better just stay here.”
Buck was about to insist when he heard footsteps on the landing outside the clinic. Catching sight of Vin, he announced, “Looks like help’s arrived just in time.” He grabbed the doorknob and ushered the tracker inside. “Albeit very dirty help,” he added.
Nathan joined the men near the door as Vin offered him the package he carried and swatted at some of the ash on his sleeve. “I went by the General Store and picked up a few supplies for ya,” Tanner said.
Jackson looked him over. “You alright?”
Quickly recognizing Nathan in full doctor mode, Vin stepped deeper into the room and hurriedly reassured him. “I’m good.”
“You look like crap, pard,” Buck put in.
Tanner scowled. “I said I’m fine. Ain’t nothin’ a little soap and water can’t fix.”
Nathan decided to take a closer look. He reached for Vin’s hands and turned them palm up. “Soap and water’ll help, but these burns are gonna need some salve. You hurt anywhere else?”
Tanner visibly squirmed under the healer’s scrutiny but knew there was no way to avoid it. He shifted awkwardly from one leg to the other, waiting for Nathan to turn him loose.
“Vin, it’s been a hard couple of days and I’ve already had one patient try and hide a wound from me. Just tell me now before I have to scrape your sorry butt off my floor.”
Buck came up behind the tracker and spotted a burn hole in his shirt. “Damn, Vin, what happened?”
Tanner sighed. “It’s just a little burn, it’s not that bad.”
Nathan grabbed his friend’s arm and pulled him around. He eyed the scorched material for less than five seconds before he began yanking the shirt free of Tanner’s body.
“Nate?” he asked in surprise, making a grab for his shirt.
Jackson ran his fingers around the burn on his right shoulder blade before he answered. “How’d this happen?”
Vin hung his head. “A piece of wood fell from the rafters while I was tryin’ to put out one of the fires. I reckon it must’ve been burnin’ when it hit me.”
“I reckon. Well it don’t look too bad.”
“I told ya.”
“But it don’t look too good either. I’ll clean it up and put some salve on that too.”
Vin was about to object, but Nathan had already gone to collect what he needed.
“Just let him help,” Buck said. “Keeps his mind off other things.”
The tracker surrendered and settled on the stool near the exam table. “How are they doin’?” he asked, motioning to the two sleeping men.
Buck leaned a hip on the table. “Chris would be fine if we could get him to rest.”
“I take it he’s still fightin’ Nathan off.”
“Yeah, he’s tried to get up three times now but he’s been too weak to make it.”
Vin’s eyes went to the man on the bed. “And Ezra?”
“Nathan’s really worried about him. His fever’s bad and he’s not comin’ round.”
“Damn. Is there anything else we can do?”
“We need to get some more medicine in him, but he keeps fighting us too. The last time he was close enough to being awake to give him something, we ended up holding him down and pouring it down his throat. I think more of it splattered on us than went into him.”
“Well Mr. Hobson gathered up a few medical supplies for me, maybe there’s something there that’ll help,” Vin said, pointing out the package Nathan laid on the bed stand.
“Maybe so.”
Jackson returned with a basin of water, a clean cloth and a tin of salve, and quickly went to work on the tracker’s hands and back. To Tanner’s credit he endured the attention with minimum fuss. Fortunately for both men however it didn’t take long to treat the injuries.
Vin reached for his shirt. “About John Nichols,” he said as he pulled it over his head, “Josiah got a wire back from Judge Travis. He’s sendin’ a special jail wagon out of Eagle Bend for him sometime late tomorrow. It seems he and his brothers are suspected of killing some town officials there and the new sheriff’s anxious to get his hands on 'em.”
“Now why doesn’t that surprise me,” Buck replied. “Maybe we can catch his brothers before that wagon gets here and cart off the whole family.”
“We’ve been lookin’, but so far we can’t figure out where they’re hiding.”
“They gotta be close to be settin’ these fires you been puttin’ out. Where exactly were the fires?”
Tanner leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “The Boarding House and the Stage Company.”
“The north end of town,” Nathan observed. “There’s no place outside o’ town in that direction to hide out. We know two are wounded, Peter and his mother, so they’ve got to be resting up somewhere here in town.”
“But where?” Wilmington wondered. He stood and walked to Ezra’s bedside. “Where would those boys take the old lady to hide out?” Coming to no conclusion on his own he turned to the tracker for ideas. The look on Tanner’s face surprised him. “Vin?”
“Hunh?”
“What is it? You think you know where they might be?”
“No, I just keep thinkin’ about those fires.”
“What about 'em?” Nathan asked.
“Something about 'em don’t feel right.”
“You just figurin’ that out, pard?” Buck chided.
Vin grinned, he should have seen that one coming. “Just hold on a minute. Since the Nichols pulled into town, have you known them to do anything by halves?”
“What d’ya mean?”
“I mean they barrelled in on a mission of vengeance, went after Chris the minute they realized he was hiding Hank, tortured Ezra for refusing to tell where Chris and Hank had gone, and threatened everyone else who got in their way. They came with a purpose and they’ve backed up their threats with every bit of meanness they could pull outta their hats.”
“Meanness is right. I looked inside that coach of theirs when I put it away – you wouldn’t believe the things they had hid there. Things that had no other purpose than to hurt, maim and kill,” Buck confirmed.
“Right, they mean business. When they play, they play for keeps.”
“So?”
“So these fires are not what I’d expect from folks who have a reputation for not holding back. Something’s off. A fire ain’t a good thing no matter what, but these fires didn’t do the damage I would have expected. Me and the others saved most of the buildings that were burning and no one was hurt or killed. It just don’t seem their style.”
“Maybe they just haven’t had much experience with arson. Or maybe there’s too few of ‘em left to do serious harm.”
Vin gave the ladies man a sour look. “You really believe that?”
“No.”
Jackson listened to the two men and went back to check on Ezra. “Well, I don’t care why they didn’t kill anyone else, I’m just glad they didn’t.” Once again, he felt the gambler’s face for fever.
“Nate, he’s probably no cooler now than he was fifteen minutes ago. Go get some rest. We’ll take care of him,” Buck said firmly.
The healer looked ready to crumble.
“Go on,” Vin added, “sleep for a couple hours. We’ll call you if anything happens we can’t handle.”
He couldn’t squabble with them any more. “If either one of ‘em wakes up, get some of that tea I brewed into them. And water, they both need water.”
“We’ll see to it,” Buck said reassuringly. When the dark man hesitated, he prodded him again. “Go!”
Vin watched the healer begrudgingly make his retreat and head to the back. He smirked at Buck. “And he says we’re difficult.”
The two men took up chairs alongside the bed and the cot and settled in for the night.
Part 16
Ezra felt the world spin wildly in large sweeping circles as huge hands grabbed him by the arms, yanked him from the countertop and threw him to the floor. What next, he wondered morbidly as he drew in his knees and dragged his tattered feet away from the men who had just cut them. He tried to focus on the voices above him but the shouted words were so intermingled with frenzied howls and wails it was difficult to understand what they were saying. A bloodlust had begun and he recognized immediately he was the sacrificial lamb at its center. He wrapped one arm around his knees and one arm around his head in an effort to make himself appear as small and uninteresting as possible – it didn’t work. The elbow against his head was jerked roughly behind his back and he was forced upright, shoulders pulled back, legs spread wide on the floor.
“Talk to me, Standish. Tell me where Larabee hid Connelly,” a voice barked loudly causing a hush to fall around the room.
Ezra heard the instruction but his brain failed to register its meaning. He instead stared at his feet, wondering with growing concern at the small red pools forming beneath them. Then the person attempting to gain his attention lowered himself into a squat between his knees and grabbed his chin.
“Tell me,” the voice repeated.
He tried to avoid the eyes drilling into him but instantly regretted it when his tormentor, Peter Nichols, released his chin and smashed a heavy fist into the side of his face. The skin over his right cheekbone and eyebrow split, and his vision began a sickening dance before him.
“Where is Connelly?” Peter shouted.
The gambler swallowed hard and tilted his head back. “D-don’t… know.”
Nichols grabbed him by the face again and pulled it level with his own. “You’re lying. You work with Larabee, you know how he thinks. Where would he hide?”
He tried to squint despite the rising hurt around his right eye, and sneered as a bloodstained grin slowly crept across his face. “Chris… doesn’t… hide.”
“Is that right, well look around, he isn’t here to save you.”
Ezra’s mind began to wander to his feet again and he tried to lean around the man in front of him despite the awkward grip on his arms.
Nichols caught the movement and scooted within a hair’s breadth of his victim’s face. “What’re you looking for?”
He startled when he couldn’t adjust his focus fast enough.
“Your feet?” Peter asked, looking over his shoulder. “You’ve got much bigger problems than your feet.”
“Can’t feel…” he mumbled before he realized he’d spoken.
“Never mind that, just tell me where Larabee has taken Connelly.”
“I told you,” he said softly and purposefully, “I don’t know.”
“You do know,” Peter replied before he pulled back and struck him in the face again. “Damn it, I’m talking to you, pay attention!”
Nichols stood, removing his bulk from the gambler’s view. Ezra was so relieved to see his feet he might have actually keeled over had the arm behind his back not been twisted further still from his body.
Peter’s patience disappeared. “If you’re so dead set on feeling your feet maybe I should just help you out! Hold him, Luke.”
Ezra felt the hands holding him yank hard and saw the man standing between his knees turn sharply towards his right foot. In that instant, a heavy boot rose high above his lower leg and came crashing down – once, twice, three times on his shin and ankle. The action was so severe Ezra felt bone grind and break. He cried out and frantically began battling the man behind him. He twisted and pulled, desperate to free himself, but the grip on his arms only tightened. “Get off me!” he yelled and gave one last, hard jerk. The brother at his back countered his efforts by hauling him upwards. The strain on his body was too much and his shoulder separated itself from its socket. He swore he could actually hear a sucking tear as it let go. Luke, had that been his name, must have heard the same sound because he relinquished his hold and snatched his hands away as if bitten by a snake.
Peter spun around when he realized the Southerner was free to curl himself on the floor. “I didn’t tell you to turn him loose!”
Luke stood quickly and brushed his hands on his pants. “Something inside him just tore it’s self loose. He ain’t going nowhere.”
“No, he isn’t!” Peter twisted a hand in the Southerner’s shirt and pulled him upright off the floor.
Ezra’s world again gyrated in a nauseating swirl of bright lights and blurry shadows. He couldn’t stand much more of this. So much of his body hurt he couldn’t tell where one injury ended and another began. He knew his mutilated feet had been the focal point of his attention before, but now his entire upper torso was so rapt in agony it threatened to pitch him into blackness. Please, he begged silently, please, let me pass out. He felt the whole universe conspire against him as his request was denied and a hot breath blew into his face.
“Enough of this! I’ve warned you what would happen if you didn’t cooperate. I’ve made it very clear how I feel about your kind and still you defy me. You’re playing a dangerous game, Standish, one you’re going to lose.” He backed away and began pacing. “You know what I have in mind for you so let’s just go ahead and be done with it!”
Ezra knew exactly. He heard Peter give the order for his weary body to be returned to the countertop. In the seconds that followed he felt brutal hands grab him off the floor and heave him back onto the unyielding surface. Oh God, they were going to do it this time! He grabbed the edge of the counter and tried to pull himself away, but the effort was a complete waste of time. There were simply too many of them. Every limb of his body was seized and held, a forearm fell across his middle and two hands trapped his head. The only movement allowed him was the painful sucking in of air and that was rapidly becoming nearly impossible to do.
He tried to resist and crane his neck around to search for the Nichols matriarch. Was she still there? She had managed to control her pit of vipers up to now, insisting, oddly enough, that the payment to be exacted from him was with regard to helping Hank escape. Despite what her sons concluded were his long list of transgressions as a gambler, she seemed unconcerned. He suspected she meant to see him dead at the conclusion of her vendetta, but at the moment she was more interested in getting her hands on Hank and Chris. He hoped against hope she would intervene and discipline her offspring but evidently she was out of earshot of what was about to happen. “Don’t… do this,” he snarled. “Mrs. Nichols…would not approve.”
Peter’s face swam above his own. “You’re mistaken. It’s you she doesn’t approve of, you and your ways. She fully supports us and our work to defeat evil.”
Ezra tried to understand.
“Not all punishment need wait ’til you meet your maker, gambler. You’re a disciple of the devil and Ma has walked away from you. You’re mine to judge now.”
“Who are you… to judge my sins?” Ezra asked defiantly.
“I’m the man with the knife.” To emphasize his point, he raised the weapon so his prisoner could clearly see the bloody blade. Ezra struggled against the biting fingers bruising his flesh as Peter turned the knife in his hand. “Then again, I’ve used this on you most of the day and it really hasn’t done the trick.”
Ezra remembered the slicing, the digging and the sawing and felt his cramping stomach send a flow of bile up his throat and into his mouth. Slowly the foul liquid leaked past his lips and down his cheek. He knew; he knew just where Nichols’ mind was going.
Then the man actually gave voice to his thoughts. “Hand me the cleaver!”
At that moment, he knew this was it. No more warnings, no more threats. “C-Chris!” he cried not really understanding why. Chris couldn’t help him; he’d be killed on sight, but again he shouted the gunfighter’s name. He cursed his own weakness and ground his teeth and pushed a cry of “No more!” from his lips. Finally it sank in. He closed his eyes against the truth, but he knew. As it had always been in the past, he was on his own.
The last thing he saw were three men, all dressed in black, reaching for him.
M7M7M7M7M7M7M7
Buck listened as Vin Tanner snored. He’d dozed off in his chair not long after Nathan went to get some sleep. Wilmington had suggested the tracker lie down, but his friend insisted he could do his resting from a chair. Apparently, he’d been right because the soft rumbling had been Buck’s constant companion for the past three hours and showed no signs of leaving him any time soon.
The ladies man sniffed the air and caught the delicious smell of freshly baked bread. Mary Travis and Archie Sanders had delivered a homemade meal of bread and stew just minutes before and he debated whether he should wake Nathan and Vin to eat or just allow them to sleep. Sleep had won out, but the noise emanating from his own belly was fast becoming difficult to ignore. After a couple of minutes, his stomach won out and he swiped the heal of the bread to nibble on. The growling lessened and he silently admired Mary’s culinary skills. He appreciated her personal skills as well. Although she and Archie had been curious about what was happening inside the clinic, they hadn’t asked to come inside. She understood how things were among the peacekeepers and respected their privacy. She left with Archie to visit the jail, the intoxicating smell of home cooking trailing in her wake.
Buck was about to reach for a drink when he heard a groan come from the bed. He abandoned the cup and hurried to Ezra’s side, immediately noticing the heat radiating off his body. The gambler’s head tossed against the pillow and his free hand clutched at the sheet draped across his waist.
“Get away from me,” he mumbled.
Vin came awake at the sound of the Southern voice. His sharp move to reach Ezra caught Buck off guard.
“I thought you were sleepin’,” Wilmington said.
“Just restin’ my eyes. Is he awake?”
Buck shook his head. “I think he’s dreamin’ again, he’s burning up.”
“Well, you know what Nate said, we need to get some more medicine in him. Maybe we can wake him enough for him to drink.”
Buck stilled the clutching hand. “Ezra, can you hear me?”
“Get,” he groaned hoarsely, “get away from me.” He tried to pull his hand free.
Buck held tight. “It’s alright.” He watched the muscles in Ezra’s arm tense as he tugged against his grip. “Come on, buddy, wake up.”
“D-don’t do this,” he pleaded as he switched his efforts from his trapped hand to that of his bound shoulder and arm.
“Ezra, be still, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”
“I can’t move! Let go!”
Wilmington lightly tapped the bruised face to gain his friend’s attention. “Come on, wake up!”
The eye that had been swollen shut the day before was nearly normal again, but it did little good since neither of the Southerner’s fevered eyes seemed able to focus. He backed into the pillows only to have Buck and Vin move with him and pin him down. “No!” He shouted when he felt the weight on top of him. “No more!” He pulled as hard as he could but failed to free himself from the cloth bindings or the well-meaning caregivers. His mind flinched at the sight of the black-clad demons that tortured and disfigured him and his only desire was to escape their reach. His life depended on it. “I w-won’t let you… do this to me… I’ll see you in hell first!”
“Listen to me, Ezra. It’s alright, it’s over!”
“No! No more!”
“Ezra!” Buck called loudly as he realized just how badly he’d lost control of the situation. Ezra battled one of the hottest fevers and worst deliriums he’d ever seen and he simply wasn’t qualified to help. He wasn’t even sure if Nathan had such experience. He was about to send Vin for the healer, when something changed – the body in his grasp heaved itself against the headboard and literally caved in. Ezra drew his knees towards his chest, bowed his back as far his bound shoulder would allow, and let his head drop forward. He pulled again at his hand and moaned miserably, “Oh God, I can’t do this.”
“Ezra?” Wilmington knew his friend was in serious trouble when the very next word from his mouth was Chris’ name. Oh hell, he thought. Please tell me Ezra didn’t call for Chris while the Nichols were cutting him up. The one person who could save him… the last person he could pray for. The allusion was too awful to believe. The second time Ezra cried out for Chris, the plea was too much to bear.
Vin looked away, Buck found he couldn’t. He was trapped in the anguish that was Ezra’s nightmare; his own mind conjuring images of the Nichols as they taunted him, abused him, terrorized him. He knew he would probably never know everything his friend had suffered, but he could definitely see the results of it.
Ezra shifted against the headboard. After a long pause, and with composure he didn’t truly feel, he raised blind eyes and asked for the impossible. “Please…just kill m-me.”
The request was so unexpected the room fell silent.
No one spoke.
No one moved.
Except for Ezra’s labored breathing, not another sound could be heard until someone in the shadows said, “Let him go.”
PARTS 1-4 / PARTS 5-7 / PARTS 8-10 / PARTS 11-13 / 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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