Part 31
“Sarah,” Chris mumbled as he pushed away the icy, wet cloth being held to his face. “Sarah, ’m c-cold.”
“It’s alright,” she answered gently.
“Why’s it so cold?”
“Hush now.”
He shivered when the cloth came to rest on his chest. “No… stop,” he complained and tried to move away.
“Lie still now, we’re trying to help you.”
“W-we?”
A large hand and a familiar voice stopped him from rising. “Yeah, buddy, we.”
“Buck?”
“Right here. Why don’t you settle down and listen to Mrs. Hobson.”
“Who?”
“Mrs. Hobson.”
“Where’s Sarah?”
There was a long silence before he decided to see for himself where his wife had gone. He forced his eyes open and shifted uncomfortably when he noticed two shadows floating above him. “What’s goin’ on?” Wilmington’s face came into focus.
“Take it slow, Chris, you’re hurt and you’re sick.”
“Hurt?” He was beginning to feel foolish asking so many questions then he felt the growing ache in his belly and began to recall the past few days.
“You got shot, remember. The wound’s got fever in it and it’s makin’ ya sick.”
He pushed away the blanket covering him and fingered the bandage around his middle. “Hank,” he said flatly.
Buck watched the sadness in his friend’s eyes return as he remembered his father-in-law’s death. He also saw the overwhelming disappointment on his face when Chris identified the woman at his side.
“Mrs. Hobson,” he said, a little embarrassed.
She gave him a kind smile. “It’s good to see you awake.”
He tried to smile back but failed miserably. “How long?”
Buck sat back in the chair he’d pulled beside Chris’ bed. “You’ve been out of it for almost two days now.” He noticed the gunfighter’s eyes wander. “You’re in Ezra’s room. The clinic was burned pretty bad in the fire the Nichols’ set so Nathan’s takin’ care of ya here.”
“W-where are they?”
“The Nichols? Most are dead. Two of the boys are back in Eagle Bend.”
“And Ezra?” He was almost afraid to ask.
“He’s alive.”
He knew there was something wrong. “But?”
“He’s fightin’ a fever even worse than yours. Nathan’s doin’ all he can, and he keeps tryin’ to tell us Ezra’s strong, but I can tell he’s more worried than he’s lettin’ on.”
Chris heard the sound of water splashing and men talking. “What’s happening?”
Buck leaned back so he could see around him. On the far side of the room Vin, Nathan and Josiah were huddled around a large bathing tub, all leaning over its edge and all holding on to a limp, semiconscious Ezra. “We’ve been tryin’ to bring his fever down by putting him in cool water and feeding him lots of Nathan’s teas.”
“And it hasn’t worked?”
“Not like it did with you?”
Chris shot him a look.
“You were pretty bad off yourself for a while, pard. Fortunately we only had to hold you in the tub once before we got your fever down enough to put ya back in bed. This is the third time for him.”
The gunfighter stared at Ezra’s black and blue face. “He ain’t movin’.”
“No, he fought us pretty hard when we first cleaned him up, and even managed to smack Vin in the face the second time, but now the fight’s just gone outta him.”
He rolled to his side and propped up on his elbow. “Can’t let him… give up,” he said around a harsh breath.
“We won’t let him give up, you can count on that. He’s had someone with him every minute keepin’ an eye on him. Nathan’s even beddin’ down on the floor so he’ll be close if he takes a turn for the worse.”
Chris watched Josiah support most of Ezra’s weight as Vin held his head up and Nathan washed him down. The only outward signs the gambler was still alive were the twitching in his slackened jaw and the occasional blink over his watery eyes. He wondered how much Ezra was aware of. Did he understand his body had literally been ripped apart? Did he realize he was being held, bare and broken, underneath water cool enough to drink? Did he understand his friends were struggling to save him and were willing to do whatever it took to keep him breathing? He stared at the bruised face as long as he could, willing Ezra to hang on, praying he would make it to see another day and then fell back to his pillow in exhaustion. His eyes tried their damnedest to roll back into his head before he squeezed them shut and groaned in frustration.
Buck put the wet cloth Madeline handed him to Larabee’s reddened face. “There ain’t nothin’ you can do, Chris, so just get some rest. When Ezra does wake up he’s gonna need to see you in one piece so he’ll know he didn’t do battle with those bastards for nothin’.”
Wilmington’s words had the desired effect – Chris was stunned into silence. He knew his friend was right, and after a few moments stopped trying to shove the cool rag away and allowed Buck to do what had to be done. He pulled at the blanket he’d pushed to his hips and dragged it beneath his chin. Despite the burning fever he still felt like he would freeze to death, but at least he was alive. And that thought stayed with him until he finally fell asleep.
M7M7M7M7M7M7
It was the next day before Chris’ fever broke and two days after that before he could manage to sit up on his own. In that time, he’d seen Ezra’s condition go from bad, to worse, to slightly better than dead, and never once had the gambler made a sound. It was similar to the way he was back at Nathan’s clinic, but this time the man barely even breathed. It was unnerving before, it scared the crap out of him now.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and carefully stretched the muscles in his back. He was weak and slow to move, but at least the pain in his belly had been reduced to a dull throb instead of the raw hurt of the past few days. He rubbed a hand over his face and realized the scruffy stubble of beard was gone. He tried not to think on who had cleaned him up; it was embarrassing to have such intimate things done for you while you were unaware. When he looked down the length of his body he realized he had more than personal hygiene to feel uneasy about – his clothes were gone. Well damn. He shook his head anxiously and scanned the room for his pants. He spotted them across the back of a chair, clean and neatly folded. It was dark out and the room was dimly lit, so he decided now was probably the best time to retrieve them without being seen.
He slid slowly forward until his feet touched the floor. With a deep breath and a clenched jaw, he forced himself to stand and walk across the room. Taking the pants from the back of the chair without falling over was one thing; putting them on was something else altogether. He dropped into the chair with a huff and leaned over to rest his elbows on his knees.
“Just what do you think you’re doin’?”
He looked up to see Nathan standing over him, arms crossed, face creased with worry. “I need… my pants,” he gasped.
“Why? You goin’ somewhere?”
He thought about it and decided he really hadn’t planned on leaving. “Back’s hurtin’,” he answered simply.
“I don’t doubt it after your tussle with Buck and Vin yesterday.”
“What ‘tussle’?”
Nathan raised an eyebrow before his face softened and he answered, “You really don’t remember, do you?”
“What?”
The healer uncrossed his arms and moved closer to the chair. “You tried to leave yesterday. Said you were goin’ after the Nichols and nobody was gettin’ in your way. You almost made it past Vin, but Buck came in about that time and the two of ‘em wrestled you back into bed.”
Chris groaned and buried his face in his hands. “Sorry.”
“It’s alright. It was probably the medicine I was givin’ ya makin’ ya crazy. But you really do need to stay down a while longer.”
“My back hurts from layin’ around so much,” he said into his hands. “I need to get up and move around.”
Nathan took pity on him. “Tell you what. You can have your pants back, and I’ll even let you sit in a chair for a while, but don’t be tryin’ to go anywhere on your own. And when I do tell ya to get back in bed, don’t argue, understand?”
Chris eyed him suspiciously; the healer was being too agreeable.
“Understand?”
He muttered a pitiful ‘yes’ and Nathan helped him with his pants.
Leaving Chris to his moment in the chair, Jackson went to the bed in the middle of the room and checked on Ezra. The gunfighter raised himself onto shaky legs and followed. “Chris.” The way Nathan said his name definitely held a warning.
“I hear ya,” he answered. “How’s he doing?”
A dark hand felt Ezra’s face. “It’s hard to tell. His fever’s down some, but he hasn’t come to since we got him back.”
“I thought I heard someone say he punched Vin.”
Nathan gave a little grin. “He did, but he didn’t know what he was doin’.”
“I suppose he’ll come round when he’s good and ready. You know Ezra, he does everything in his own time.”
Jackson didn’t seem convinced. “Maybe,” he said, his shoulders sagging.
“When’s the last time you slept?”
“I got about an hour last night.”
“Well how about you rest a while and let me watch him.”
“No, I’m fine. Josiah’ll be back soon. I’ll rest then.”
“You might as well get some sleep now. I ain’t gettin’ back in that bed ‘til the ache is gone in my back and Ezra ain’t goin’ any place with me playin’ watchdog. Lay down. If he needs you, I’ll wake you.”
Nathan thought about it.
“Or I can wait ‘til you fall on your face and then I can sneak outta here good and proper.” Chris settled back in his chair. “You just said Josiah’ll be here soon.”
“Alright, but trust me, if you leave that chair on your own I’ll be takin’ back those pants of yours and it’ll be another week before ya see ‘em again.”
Chris swallowed hard when he realized Nathan wasn’t kidding around, and Nathan knew by the look on Chris’ face the gunfighter wouldn’t make a move without him. The conversation ended with Jackson returning to his pallet on the floor and Chris grumbling about bossy, know-it-all healers.
Part 32
Chris hadn’t been sitting in the chair by Ezra’s bed long when the gambler began to groan in his sleep. It was a low, guttural groan broken by such harsh gasps for breath it sounded as if he was physically taking hits to the stomach. He was on his side, propped forward against a stack of pillows to keep his shoulder safe and to lessen the pressure of the whip marks on his back, and Chris wondered if the position was making it difficult for him to breath. “Ezra,” he called softly, leaving his chair to sit on the bed. He reached a hand to touch him, and even through the blanket covering his torso, felt a constant tremor run the length of his body. Uncertain whether he should try to move him or just leave him alone, he called his name again. The gambler jerked and Chris quickly snatched his hand away.
“S-stop,” Ezra slurred.
Chris looked closer at his face. “It’s alright, I won’t touch you again.”
Another hard shudder racked the Southerner’s body as a whimper escaped his lips.
“Ezra, I…”
“It ain’t you, Chris,” Nathan said, appearing from the darkness. “He’s dreamin’.”
“He’s awake, his eyes are open.”
“He’s been doin’ this off and on since that fit he had the other night.”
“What fit?”
“His fever went so high he seized a couple of times. Since then he has spells where his muscles start actin’ up on their own.”
Chris looked again at the blind green eyes staring at the pillow. “He’s asleep?”
“I don’t think he’s really asleep, it’s more like his brain can’t quite get awake.”
The gunfighter’s eyebrow went up.
Nathan shook his head, he knew what he was saying didn’t make a lot of sense. “He’s somewhere in between being asleep and awake. It usually don’t last long, but the shiverin’ gets pretty bad so we need to make sure he don’t hurt himself. We also need to make sure his fever stays down.” He pulled a cloth from the water basin on the bedside table and wrung it out. Folding it long ways, he raised Ezra’s head enough to slide it around the back of his neck. He then reached for a cup of herbal tea and offered it to his patient. Surprisingly, Ezra took a long drink before he settled down; his lips quivered, his eyes closed and his body slowly let go the tension that fed his twitching muscles.
“How long’s he gonna be like this?” Chris asked.
“I wish I knew.” Nathan pulled the cover down and examined the freshest slash marks on Ezra’s back and hips. “He’s got a ways to go before I can say he’s outta danger.”
Chris stared at the damage revealed by the blanket’s removal. It was the first time he had actually had a chance to see the gambler’s injuries for himself and the sight cut through him like a knife.
“You alright?” Nathan asked when he saw the gunfighter pale.
Chris turned away.
“I knew it was a mistake lettin’ you up. You should be in bed.”
“I’m fine.”
The healer waited and watched.
“In fact, I think I’m well enough to get back to my own bed in my own room.”
“You’ll stay here ‘til I tell ya you can leave.”
“You can’t keep me here.”
“The hell I can’t. You ain’t strong enough to get past me yet.”
“Don’t push me, Nathan,” Chris said, coming around with fire in his eyes.
“Look, I know you hate this, but you gotta know I’m just tryin’ to help ya.”
The blond steadied himself against the bed and stood. “I need to get outta here.”
“You ain’t leavin’ ‘til I turn ya loose, so get that through your head.”
Chris’ back stiffened and his eyes drifted to Ezra. “I can’t stay here,” he said just before he swayed forward.
Jackson made a grab for him but he stumbled out of reach.
“Back off,” he snarled after he bumped the tub behind his legs and lost his balance. He wrenched his body sideways to avoid falling in and awakened the hurt in his wound.
“Dang it, are ya tryin’ to kill yourself?” Nathan circled the bed and gathered him up in his arms. “Why do ya have to be so damned stubborn?”
The gunfighter tried to pull free. “I told you to back off. Don’t you get it? I can’t stay here. I can’t be here when…”
Nathan didn’t let go. “When what?”
Chris was dangerously close to caving in. He drew a long breath and let his head fall back against the healer’s shoulder. “I can’t be here when he wakes up.”
“Why would you think…”
“I’m the reason he’s in this mess. If we want him to survive, I can’t be here remindin’ him how he got this way.”
“Chris…”
“Just let me go. I can go back to my place, do my healin’ there.”
“You will do no such thing!” The two men looked up to see Madeline Hobson, flanked by Josiah and Vin, standing in the doorway. “Mr. Jackson has worked himself to near exhaustion trying to save you and Mr. Standish and you are not undoing his fine work by going off before you’re well enough.”
Nathan adjusted his hold on Chris. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said with relief.
“Lady, this is none of your business,” the gunfighter growled.
Vin stepped into the room and sat down the basket of food he had carried for Madeline. “Mind your manners, pard. I reckon she’s earned a right to speak her mind since she’s been helpin’ tend you and Ezra these past few days.”
“Why?” he asked sarcastically. “Guilty conscience?”
“Chris!” Nathan yanked the gunfighter’s arm tighter.
“It’s alright, Mr. Jackson. I know he’s not himself and I’m sure he understands how things were when my husband was forced into service for the Nichols family.”
The anger on Chris’ face quickly turned to shame and the fight in him dwindled into fatigue. His knees sagged and Nathan felt his awkward grip fail him. Josiah hurried forward, scooped the gunfighter off the floor and returned him to his bed.
Madeline was at his side in an instant. “Do you see now why Mr. Jackson didn’t want you to leave?”
“You don’t understand,” he mumbled.
“I think I do. You did quite a lot of talking when the fever had you.”
He looked up in surprise.
“It’s alright. Your friends set me straight about what you were saying, and I promised never to repeat what I heard.” She pointed the three men standing to the food baskets in the corner. “Now, you boys need to eat. I’ll prepare something for Mr. Larabee and then perhaps he can get some sleep.”
Chris touched her arm as she began to rise. “I meant what I said. I don’t want to be here when Ezra wakes up.”
She patted his hand. “You don’t seem to understand, you have no choice. The Nichols convinced him you died because he failed to protect you. That knowledge might cost him his life unless you make him understand you’re all right. He has to see you and hear you,” she sandwiched his hand between her own, “and feel that you’re alive.”
“He should never have taken on the Nichols for me in the first place.”
“I know Mr. Standish is a little different from the rest of you, but do you think so little of the kind of man he is to assume he wouldn’t ‘take on’ the devil himself if it meant protecting you?”
Chris turned sharply at the accusation. “No.”
“Then appreciate his sacrifice for what it was. Let him know he did his job as a lawman and as a friend.”
He didn’t say a word when she put his hand down and left him to prepare a plate.
Vin came to stand beside him. “Smart lady. She’s been through a lot herself lately.”
“I’ll apologize to her later.”
“Good. And listen to her. She was with Ezra right there at the end before we got ‘im back. I reckon she probably saw some things we didn’t.”
Chris rolled to his side to get a better look at the gambler on the other bed. He stared long and hard at the bruises and bandages and came to the conclusion he’d never really seen the man beneath. Approval pulled at the edges of his mouth and he ultimately had to admit, “Yeah, I reckon she did.”
M7M7M7M7M7M7M7
Ezra heard them talking close by, a woman and several men, and his heart threatened to stop. He didn’t understand where he was or how he had gotten there, but the sound of those voices terrified him so badly he could barely breathe. “Get away,” he wheezed as the overwhelming urge to escape hammered in his chest. Sadly, his first attempt at moving gained him nothing except a massive hurt from the top of his head to the soles of his feet. It was a pain so intense it sent his mind reeling; like nothing he’d ever experienced, cold and deep, and in complete contrast to the heat burning just beneath his skin.
And they were here, those who had done this to him, standing just feet away, talking and laughing and obviously planning his demise. He moaned in frustration and tried again to force his body to move. Why was this happening? What had he done to deserve a death that destroyed him a piece at a time? He was dizzy from his efforts but finally coerced muscles too tired to respond to push him onto his elbow. Daggers pierced his upper body and tears of pain were sent down his cheeks. “Oh God, I can’t…” he cried and reached out to grab anything he could find to stop himself collapsing. In the midst of his panic, someone took hold of his fingers and slid a hand round his neck. He cringed at the touch and tried to wriggle away, but whoever had him wasn’t letting go.
Giving freedom one last shot, he jerked hard, snatched his hand to his chest and fell awkwardly onto his back. The agony that resulted literally swallowed him whole and he screamed until his lungs began to smother and choke.
He couldn’t fight them any more.
No man could.
So he gathered his hurt and his sorrow close to his heart and slowly stepped away…
PARTS 1-4 / PARTS 5-7 / PARTS 8-10 / PARTS 11-13 / PARTS 14-16 / PARTS 17-18 / PARTS 19-20 / PARTS 21-23 / PARTS 24-26 / PARTS 27-28 / PARTS 29-30 / PART 33 / PART 34
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