Setting: Old West
Disclaimer: The following is a work of fanfiction based on the CBS television series, The Magnificent Seven. It is in no way intended to infringe on the copyrights of CBS, MGM, The Trilogy Entertainment Group, The Mirisch Corp., or anyone else who may have legal rights to the characters, settings or song references. I don't own the characters. This story is strictly for entertainment. No monetary gain will be made from anything contained in this story.
Time lost all meaning during the endless stream of bodies that needed tending. Finally, Nathan got relief. Two doctors arrived from the nearby towns of Redding and Gold Creek. He'd just finished setting a broken arm and stitching up a young man, when he accepted a sandwich and mug of coffee. He didn't taste the food, he was too weary. He finished up, sighed and rose wearily, heading over to check on Vin and Ezra.
He saw a cat-like reflection of gold illuminated in the gambler's eyes in the lamplight. He found a tired smile, at the naked concern shining clearly on Vin Tanner. To his surprise, the injured conman was sitting up, wrapped in a blanket, sipping on a steaming mug of liquid.
"How yuh feelin'?" He sat on the tree stump by the conman and studied his eyes. Flickers of pain and tension lined the handsome man's face, but not at bad as before.
"I'm alive," Ezra replied quietly, thinking on those who had not fared as well. "Shouldn't he rouse?"
"Head injuries are tricky ... " Nathan stood and moved over to Vin, taking his pulse and respiration. "He's breathin' good, no fever ... no blood from his ears or nose ... " The Texan stirred beneath his touch, shivering in the cool night air. "Yuh cold, Vin?" he asked, waiting until a single blue eye opened, winking up at him.
"Nate?" Vin croaked, head pounding and stomach swirling. "Ya look awful ... "
"I'm jus' tired," he smiled at the raspy concerned voice, "How yuh doin', Vin?" He sat on the edge of the cot, holding a mug of water to the other man's lips. At first it was denied, the pale face turned away. "Yuh gotta drink ... maybe eat a little ... "
"Wouldn't stay put ... " Vin declined, then gave in, seeing the stern brown eyes directed on him. He sipped the cool water slowly and prayed it would stay down. His tender ribs couldn't stand another attack.
"I have some soup," Ezra offered of the nearly full mug offered by a volunteer. He started to stand, but his back protested.
"Yuh stay put!" Nathan barked, "Yuh finish that, I'll get Vin some soup. When yuh done, I want yuh on that belly, I'll put another hot towel ... "
"Chris!" Vin hollered, sitting up too quickly and jumping to his feet. Had Nate not been next to him and grabbed him, he would have fallen. "Buck ... .ya found Bucklin ... is he alive?"
"Sit down and stay down!" the tired healer ordered, shoving the tangled tracker's limbs back onto a cot. He covered him up with another blanket and shot a warning glance at the gambler, who was also attempting to rise. "Ezra! I'll use a rope if I hafta!"
"Nate!" Chris hollered, his tired eyes relieved to see both Vin and Ezra doing a little better. He waited until the tall ex-slave was at his side. He didn't miss the horrified expression in the soulful brown eyes, as they locked onto the knife in the rogue's thigh.
"That's a calvary knife," Nate observed, noting the bloody arm as well. He eyed the free table near the area where he'd been treating burns and broken bones. "There ... " he jerked his head, holding Buck, until Chris got down. Between the two of them, they got the injured man to the converted table. It had been holding food and supplies, now gone. Twin pairs of hands worked in tandem, stripping the layers of soggy clothes off the fevered man. Thick wool blankets covered him, as Nathan did a quick exam. "The bullet needs to come out ... It don't feel to deep. He's got a good fever buildin' ... he's breathin' ain't good."
"What about that?" Chris wiped Buck's damp face and eyed the knife.
"That needs a surgeon, that's way beyond what I can do. One wrong move and he could bleed t'death." He doused Buck's arm with soap and water, then moved to the black kettle nearby, which held medical tools in hot water. "I'm gonna get that lead ball out, it's givin' him that fever. See if yuh can find that Doctor Smith we met ... "
"Okay," He eased Buck down and took off toward the train, pausing briefly to give Vin and Ezra a nod. "He's alive ... " He hollered over to the two worried men.
"He'd better be," Ezra groaned, "he is in arrears of ten dollars from a wager ... " He stood and bit back a wave of pain shooting up his back and gingerly took baby steps toward Vin's cot. The three feet he traveled felt like thirty miles. He sat down a little rough, causing both of them to yelp in pain.
" ... the hell ya doin'!" Vin snapped, his arms protecting his screaming ribs.
"Feeding that ungrateful mouth of yours," He held the mug up and tipped it carefully, so the other man could sip from it.
" ... s'not bad ... " Vin managed, feeling the warm fluid invade him. "Here, I got it ... " He took the mug and another sip, before glaring at the hands adjusting his blanket, " ... get yer ass back t'yer own bed. Nate finds ya over here and I'll get an earful ... " He took another hearty swallow and handed the half full mug back, "Thanks ... 'preciate it ... " He paused, his blue eyes narrowing when he saw the other's jade ones lingering doubtfully in the swirls of soup. "What?"
"I was merely ascertaining if you left any lingering residue."
"Fuck yer sorry ass to Dixie and back!" Vin ired, fighting a smile, "I didn't spit in it ... ya got balls, ya know that? I didn't hafta share m'soup with ya ... "
"Your soup!" Ezra huffed, using Vin's shoulder to push himself upwards, which again caused both men to yelp. He eased his body onto his own cot, finished the soup and laid on his stomach. He was nearly asleep, when he felt a hot towel placed on his back by an unsteady hand. He moaned in pleasure and sucked in air, as the hot moisture soothed his bruised flesh. He heard the soft flow of curses in several languages and peeked one eye open, just in time to see Vin Tanner stagger a crooked path back to his bed. The body flopped down, yanked a blanket up and took several minutes to regain a normal rate of breathing. One look at the deathgrip Vin's hand had on the cotside, told him the younger man was dizzy. The slim Texan was swaying and sweating profusely. "Your sacrifice is duly noted," he managed, seeing the damp, mangled head across from him nodding. "Can you see Mister Wilmington? Are they operating on him?"
" ... arm ... Nate's pluckin' ... bullet ... reckon ... " Vin whispered, his head and stomach both rebelling strongly. It took all he had not to vomit, and he fought hard, clenching the sides of the bed. He saw Chris from the corner of his eye, walking briskly toward where Nate worked. " ... Chris got ... a doctor ... "
"Hopefully a surgeon with a skilled, steady hand," Ezra managed, letting his eyes shut finally.
Vin glanced over and saw Ezra was asleep again. He kept his eyes trained on the trio of men hovering over Buck's body. He kept the picture in his head of that mustached man's broad grin, warm open hand on his back and that booming voice. "Ya keep him, safe," he whispered, eyeing the stars above, calling to a higher source. "Ain't often we get the likes o'his kind ... we need him ... " Despite his best efforts, the dizziness didn't abate, he felt sick to the stomach and wavered, nearly tipping off the cot. "Aw, hell ... "
"You drunk, Tanner?"
He felt relief then, as a set of strong hands righted him on the cot. He kept his eyes closed, for it shut out the waves of dizziness. He let his best friend adjust his aching body in the cot and pull a blanket up. He kept shivering, despite the double layer of cloth. He was about to protest the hand that swept across his brow, but thought wiser of it. "Hey Cowboy ... " he whispered, peeling his eyes half open.
"That fickle belly of yours up to some soup? Nate said to give you some." Chris sat on the tree stump near Vin's cot and held out a mug with steam coming from it. He followed the worried, half-mast blue eyes up the short hill, to where Nate and Doctor Smith were working to save Buck Wilmington's leg and life. "We're lucky," he said quietly, helping the younger man hold the mug and get a sip. "That doctor's a surgeon from back East. He's good, Vin ... very good. You should see what he had to do, to cut some folks outta the wreckage. He saved a lot of them. He thinks he can save Buck's leg. It's a bad wound." He paused, sensing a change in the patient. The blue eyes were hard and cold, the square jaw set as if in stone. He could hear the wheels turning in the tracker's damaged head. "Don't go there, Vin," he sighed wearily, tipping the mug again and watching the lips accept the soup. "It's not your fault. That blond bastard who stuck Buck was out to rob the train, we just got in the way. It had nothing to do with ... "
"The hell it didn't ... Bucklin went after him ... on accounta me ... " He turned his face away, suddenly the soup was souring in his gut. "I'm givin' ya warnin', come daylight, I'm headin' out after him. I know this territory better'n most. He's gonna pay ... Tanner style."
"Wasn't planning on stopping you." Chris didn't argue, he didn't have that right. Besides, if would be as good as spitting into a strong wind. The one weapon he could use against Vin was as lethal as the mare's leg he wore. Loyalty. was something the tracker prized highly and felt deeply. He kept hold on the mug and offered it again, seeing guilt harbored in the tired, blue eyes.
"Good, just' so's ya know," Vin said with conviction, as much to convince himself. He'd expected an argument, the green eyes to rebel at him, even a curse word or two. He glanced at Larabee then, as the tired man sat back and lit up a cheroot.
"When I found him, I thought he was dead," the smart man said, selecting his trump card. "I couldn't find a breath, he was colder than ice ... "
Vin looked over then hearing the tremor in the other's voice. The stoic face didn't crack, but the worried eyes were trained on the stilled form of Buck Wilmington.
"He could barely whisper, hell I thought he was gonna die in my arms." Chris continued ,sliding the trump card onto his lips, "He was only worried about one thing ... a dying promise to a friend. Wanted me to pass it along ... to you."
"Me!" Vin choked, eyes shooting wide open, quite painfully.
"He barely got your name out, his eyes were all bright with pain and fever. He's was usin' what little breath he had, worrying on you. He was frantic Vin, that you died thinking he broke his word to you."
"He didn't do no such thing!" Vin protested, a lump forming in his chest.
" ... said he gave his word," Chris spit the card out, " ... to watch your back on the train. Buck's funny that way. Loyalty and honor and all ... " He flicked a glance over the struggling patient, wrestling with his conscience. "I reckon it's your face he'll be looking for ... damn shame ... him being so weak ... could make the difference."
" ... that ain't playin' fair, Chris!" Vin whispered, gripping the edge of the cot hard, his voice barely able to enunciate.
"I know you want Garrett, Vin. You got every right. But, Buck needs you too. I can't force you to stay, but I can promise if you wait, until Buck's past the worst of it ... " he paused, offering the mug and a whole lot more, "I'd like to ride with you."
Vin turned slowly, studying Chris Larabee's face long and hard, before turning his gaze to where Buck was fighting for his life. He stared at that mug, followed the wisps of steam rising from the rim and thought about Chris Larabee's offer. He didn't want to choose between them, the old and the new. It wouldn't be fair to force his hand, not after all he'd done. No, Chris Larabee meant far too much to him to hurt him like that. He took his throbbing eyes to Wilmington's pale, sweat-covered profile. He swallowed the lump in this throat, hearing that booming voice again and jumped slightly, almost feeling the large hand on his back. He took the mug and savored the hot fluid.
As if sensing his thoughts, Chris pursed his lips, pulled a flask from his duster and took a swig. He offered it over, taking the mug back until Vin could get a good swallow. They switched again, Vin sipped his soup, his eyes never leaving Buck's face. He watched the muscles and veins sticking out of the doctor's neck, imagining how those deft fingers were working. He finished the soup, dropped the mug onto the ground and parted his lips.
"So what are we up against?"
"Ezra was awake when they busted in, Dixon is the mastermind, probably has a hand picked gang split between here and the camp in Mexico. Garrett his right hand, I'd say, and from what I've heard, a bad apple. A mean son-of-a-bitch ... he must have snuck on the train, he wasn't with the assigned group."
"I'm gonna kill 'im, Chris ... "
"He's not going anywhere, Vin. He thinks you're dead. He's in San Paulo, lickin' his wounds." He offered the bottle over again and waited. "You're not the only one whose got his number." He saw the head turn sharply and study him.
"I got more'n 'nuf reasons ... " he snapped, shoving the arm away. "I can still see him ... hear her screamin' ... "
"Yeah, I know, Vin and I'm sorry. That's a helluva thing to live with. You were only a kid yourself ... " He gripped the injured man's forearm and forced him to turn. "Those folks on that train lost people that they cared about too. Husbands, fathers, sons ... is their grief any less? When we find him, Vin, we're bringin' him back to stand trail. Those folks ... they need to feel that. They got that right." He flinched as Vin pulled away, hunched down in the bed and tugged the blanket up. He didn't know if his words even took hold. Sighing, he gave the blanketed shoulder a pat of support and stood up. He saw the steaming pot of linen near Ezra and got another towel. Then he walked away from the carnage. He found a quiet spot where he could still see his friends, but keep his solitude. He lit a cheroot and leaned against the aged tree. He needed to think ... he needed a plan. He wasn't about to let Vin Tanner murder a man in cold blood, even if he did deserve it.
Nathan's eyes were rivited to the masterful work before him. Not only did the skilled hands of the weary surgeon work magic, he took the time to explain each step. Nathan took mental notes of the operation, grateful for the lesson. Finally it was done. Jackson was speechless, he'd never seen such fine work. The humble physician sat down on a bench nearby, taking a large drink of water. His face was lined with blood and soot, this clothes marred with gore, but Nathan Jackson never saw a finer cut of man.
"Yuh gonna leave it open?" Nate inquired of the wound, which was packed with lint soaked in carbolic. " ... so any infection can drain out?"
"Yes," Miles Smith answered, watching the young man leave the patient's side. "Just change the packing, watch for discoloration, oozing and smell it ... flush out any impurities."
"I jus' want t'thank yuh," Nathan extended his hand and shook the other's firmly, "It was a real honor ... workin' with yuh. He'll heal okay?"
"Fine," the tired doctor yawned, "I could sleep for a week!" He handed the other man a mug of cider. "He'll need to stay off it for several weeks, until he's healed. Those muscles and tendons are in a precarious state. He's got a fever, that will be our biggest concern, but he's strong, a fighter ... I've seen that!" He recalled the incident on the train. "I need to turn the knife over to the commanding officer. It's evidence ... "
"I'll get Chris, he'll want to look at it, talk with yuh. Him and Buck go way back ... " The ex-medic stood and stretched his aching back, rubbed his heavy eyes and watched the wagons approaching. "I'll get Vin and Ezra on one of 'em ... "
"There are schools, you know, where men of color can learn medicine. Those hands of yours, are very talented. If you ever decide to get your degree, let me know. I'll write a letter of recommendation and do all I can."
Nathan knew by the tone of this voice, he was sincere. He nodded, swallowed hard and again, extended his numb hand. "Comin' from yuh like that ... it sure means somethin' ... Thank you, Sir."
"Sir?" the tired doctor laughed, "It's Miles and Nathan, the pleasure was all mine."
Chris was dozing when a hand gently tapped his shoulder. He was on a cot vacated by one of the burn victims. For several hours, wagons had been taking the wounded to town. Three times they came and left, bearing the least injured. Now they waited, while those whose weren't able to walk, were loaded on canvas army stretchers.
"Chris ... .Chris ... it's done."
"Buck!" the blond coughed, angry that he'd fallen asleep. "Shit ... "
"He's fightin'," the tired man stood next to Vin Tanner, who was breathing heavy. "Doctor Smith is with 'im, if yuh wanna speak t'him. Yuh should have seen him, Chris ... his hands were ... " he stared at his own, feeling inadequate. "He saved Buck's leg ... life ... and that's a fact! He's totin' a fever ... we got a rough few days ahead, but he thinks with some rest, he'll be fine."
"Thank God," he dropped his damp blond head and felt a strong hand grip the neck. He stood, embraced Nathan, who he knew had seen sights tonight, that no one should endure. Especially the burned children. " ... and thank you, Mister Jackson. What you did, for those people tonight, took somethin' a lot more than guts."
"Yuh'r punch drunk from gettin' no sleep!" the brown eyes smiled in warmth, releasing the other man. "Go on ... I wanna check these two, see if I can get 'em on the next wagon. Lord, I am tired!"
"I can't imagine why," Chris said, nodding and walking up the hill.
Pink. That was his first impression. Soft, fuzzy and warm, a rosy hue embraced his face and kissed it tenderly. He sighed, stretched and let Mother Sun nuzzle him some more. He lifted his aching head and hissed in pain, as the first ray of sun slammed through window. Window? He frowned, recalling the macbre scene at the wreck. He squinted, putting one hand over his eyes and sat up. A room, not very large, but clean and not cluttered. A row of cots were on one wall and a bar on the other. Familiar faces slept peacefully nearby. Ezra was next to him, sleeping on his stomach, Nathan's tall frame stood out, his legs extending beyond the bottom of the bed. A man who looked vaguely familiar came next, Vin recalled talking to him on the train. A doctor? Maybe ... he fuzzily recalled the body working on Buck. Buck! His eyes frantically roamed the room, not seeing his friend. He sat up too fast and fell off the bed, landing on his hands and knees. He groped in the shadows of the early day, finding the side of a cot. He pulled his throbbing ribcage up, trying to breathe through the fire exploding in his taped chest. The forced breathing brought a spell of coughing. That action left him weak and dizzy, grasping the wooden bedside for all it's worth.
" ... keep ... your ... Texas ... crud ... offa ... my ... handsome ... f..f ... fa..ce ... Sl ... s
I ... ick!"
His head shot up then, despite the pain. His troubled sky eyes drank in the sight just inches from his own. It was a pale imitation of the face he'd come to know. The dark hair seem stark against the wet face with scarlett slashes of fever. The blue slits of eyes regarded him curiously. He reached out an unsteady hand to where he thought Buck's face should be.
"Ya ... look like shit ... " Vin rasped, " ... no ... account skirt chaser ... "
"Who ... the ... hell ... are ... you ... talkin' ... to ... Son?" Buck whispered painfully, watching the blinking sky eyes and hand moving next to his pillow. "I'm over ... here ... hell's wrong with your..eyes ... "
"Bucklin!" Vin blinked again, as the twin's melded into one Wilmington face. "..hey ... there ya are ... Two o'ya is t'damn scary ... " he gave the shoulder a pat and fell down hard.
"Vin?"
"Yeah?" he replied, sitting on the floor and resting against the wall, Buck was to his left.
" ... you're ... half ... naked ... where you goin'?"
" ... I didn't see ... couldn't find ... " he paused, winced and rubbed his sore chest. " ... thought ya was dead ... "
"Shit!" Buck managed weakly, " ... woke up a little while ago ... been keepin' company with Miss Rosebud."
"Who?" Vin coughed again and followed Buck's single finger that pointed to the wall at the foot of the bed.
"Aw, hell!" he gasped, eyes wide. "Damn ... they're huge ... " The weak laughter next to him, caused him to scowl. " ... somethin' funny?"
"You are ... you think you never saw a naked lady before!"
"I seen plenty!" the annoyed Texan countered, eyeing 'Rosebud's best assets again. " ... Jes' never seen ... uh ... a pair like that ... must be two feet high ... reckon that's how she got her name."
"You be respectful," Buck coughed, eyeing the large fresco on the wall before them. A Rubenesque beauty with black hair, reclining on a setee wearing a drape over her waist was splayed before them. "That's a real Lady! She sure is fine!" He coughed again, harsher this time.
"Hold on ... I'll get ya some water ... " Vin managed, lifting his head to peek over Buck's bulk to where a small barrell of cold water sat, with a ladle. He got on all fours, attempting to stand, only to have the weak hand bat his face.
"No way ... " Buck whispered, "You'll fall ... on ... me and bust ... somethin' ... crawl!"
" ... yer messin' m'hair ... " Vin hissed, pulling away.
" ... rat's nest ... you got ... balls ... "
Vin crawled slowly, then the room began to get dark and black spots danced in front of him. He wouldn't fail Buck, the man was in a fevered state and needed water. He groped around the bed, peeked once and spotted the end of the ladle and continued his journey. He inched along the next wooden framed bed, closer and closer and then snaked his hand out, seeking the ladle. He thought he was doing fine until he hit something soft.
"What the hell are you doing!" Chris snapped, eyes jerking open, as Vin's hand groped his leg.
"Gettin' a drink ... "
"That knock on the head affected your eyes," the cranky man asserted, shoving the naked tracker's arm from his thigh. Vin's jaw worked, but no words came out. He flopped like a fish out of water, arms floudering and mouth sucking for air. "Jesus ... " he sat up, hauled the younger man to his knees and shoved him onto his own bed. "Stay put, will you!"
"No," Vin wiggled, sitting up and pressing against the black cotton wall, "Buck's countin' ... on ... me ... he's fevered ... I ... prom ... "
"Vin?" Chris caught him as he passed out. He easily slung him back on the bed, adjusted the pillows so his upper body was raised and covered him up.
"You need ... J.D.'s ... cuffs ... "
"I just might," Chris replied, filling the dipper with water and dropping by Buck's side. He eased his friend upwards and fed him the water. He saw the painting and laughed, dropping his gaze to the smiling, weak man below. The rogue's bed was in the perfect position to 'appreciate' the ladies best features. "Buck, if I didn't know better, I'd swear you planned this ... "
"I ... got ... a ... reputation ... to ... live..up ... to ... " Buck coughed and relaxed, shutting his eyes as the other one wiped his face, neck and chest with cold water. "What happened, Chris?"
"We're in Fullerton, it's just about sunrise. Garrett and Dixon blew up the train. A couple dozen killed, a whole injured. There was no silver ... we were set up."
"Dixon?" Buck spat, recalling Vin's bloody encounter, "Not ... surprised ... didn't ... want ... doctor ... check..Vin." he coughed again. " ... prisoner ... he ... locked ... up ... " He thought on the leader's words, " ... set up? shit ... "
"Ezra filled me in," Chris gave Buck another drink and recapped the night's events, right down to their arrival in town. "This place used to be the saloon in the hotel. It closed a little while back, a newer one opened up. Ezra and Vin are here, Nate's asleep and that's Doctor Smith ... he saved your life. "
"Saved Vin's too ... " Buck yawned, "He's a good man ... .how bad?" he eyed the raised injured limb, wincing at the ragged edges of the incision. It ached and throbbed in steady rhythm with the pain in his bandaged arm.
"If you want to use that leg again, he says you stay put for a few weeks. No weight on it at all. It took all the skill he had to fix it ... don't fuck it up!"
"Don't worry," Buck shivered, recalling his battle in the cold river. "I thought ... when we got blown off ... I was dead. Garrett?"
"In San Paulo by now ... with Dixon countin' their money."
Buck's head turned to where Vin was sleeping, still too pale but looking much better than he'd last seen him. "I thought he was dead ... in my arms ... so much blood. That bastard baited him, Chris. It wasn't Vin's fault. He's gonna take off, you know ... he's got a fire in his belly. Can't ... say ... as ... I blame..him ... bastard ... deserves to ... to ... die!" he coughed hard, so much so that Chris had to haul him up and clap his back. "Sorry ... "
" ... s'okay," Chris smiled, "I'll put it on my bill. Go back to sleep, Buck, you need to rest. I won't let Vin ride out ... go on." he urged, turning the water-logged pillow over and easing the other's head down. Buck was already sleeping again.
He stood, stretched and went in search of coffee. A few of the volunteers were in the kitchen, preparing trays for the injured. Chris took a cup of coffee outside, along with a makeshift sandwich. The scrambled eggs and ham on a hunk of bread went down easy. As he watched the sun shyly coming over the buildings across from him, he wondered on Buck's words. Vin Tanner did have a fire in his belly, one that would only be sated with justice. Justice ... what kind? Would he be able to stop his friend from killing Garrett? He sighed, eyed the horizon and wondered about their trip down the 'devil's highway'.
Sometimes being an older and wiser lived up to it's moniker. Josiah steered them clear of the wreck, knowing the army would be doing cleanup. Something J.D. didn't need to see was body parts strewn around the countryside. So the preacher took them on a slightly longer route and they arrived in Fullerton just past noon. The only thing keeping him upright was the stubborn streak that ran up his back. He grunted as they rode into town, when the youth's dark head turned around again.
"You aimin' to get whiplash, Son?" he asked of the frequent glances backwards.
"That's the thanks I get for keeping you alive!" Dunne eyed the hotel where the wire said the injured were taken. He was anxious to see Buck. The report listed him as critical. He dropped form his horse, tied the reins to the post and shot for the door.
"Thanks, J.D., I can manage," the eldest imparted wryly, watching the door shut behind the Bostonian, " ... not to worry ... "
"You look awful, Preacher!"
The weakened, travel-weary man smiled at the familiar sound of the healer's voice. He took the arm offered and eased off the horse, eyeing the tired face of the other.
"I don't see as you are in any position to be critical. How's Buck?"
"Bad ... fever's got him good. Erza's back is giving him fits and Vin can't seem to stay awake."
"Another day in paradise," Sanchez winced, rubbing the old bandage. "You open for business?"
"Yeah, I'll get you settled and have a look," he lead him inside, to a small area set aside for bandages changes and cleansing. "Somebody did a good job ... " he boasted, raising an eyebrow at his handiwork.
"Yeah ... humble is his middle name ... " the other replied, "Dammit Nathan!"
"Shut up!" the medic snapped, dousing the open wound with carbolic and rewrapping it. "It's healing good. Yuh rest today, yuh lost blood. Hungry?"
"Yeah, it's a long time since breakfast." He rose and let Nathan put a new sling on his arm. "Where's Chris?"
"Left about an hour ago." Nate paused, eyeing the horizon, " ... for San Diego. He found out that the General has a hush-up meeting there."
" ... scrambling around trying to cover their asses ... " the wounded man grit his teeth.
"For the 'official' report ... " Nate shook his head, rewrapping the unused guaze. "I seen things Josiah ... " he turned away, dropped his head and found a strong hand on his shoulder. " ... got me t' wonderin' what he was thinkin'" he raised his soulful eyes skyward.
"Faith is the substance of things hoped for; the evidence of things not seen," the wise man quoted Hebrews 11:1 from the good book.
"Humph," Jackson shook his head, "Chris don't see it that way ... never seen him so fired up."
"I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of that table," he noted of the anger he knew was boiling inside Larabee.
" ... or what's left of it when he leaves." Nate opened the door to the deserted saloon. Vin was sleeping still and that caused the dark-skinned healer to frown. J.D. was sponging down Buck and Ezra was ... well ... being Ezra.
"Where are my clothes? I will not lounge about half naked in the middle of the day. Nathan ... I insist you ... "
"If yuh don't quit bellyachin' I'm gonna fetch Miss Lucy!" he warned of the oversized, overanxious nurse wannabe who 'bathed' both Vin and Ezra earlier. While the tracker never roused, the gambler wasn't so fortunate.
"That's hitting below the belt!" the southerner scoffed, recalling the vile smell that rolled off the rough-handed woman.
"Really?" Josiah smiled, as he sat on the empty chair next to the irritated southerner. "She had that much of an effect on you?"
"It would do you well to remove your mind from the gutter," Ezra winced, trying to turn. "My limbs are numb, I would like to move a bit ... "
"Yuh sure it ain't your gums that's numb?" the healer muttered, bending over the tracker. "He wake up at all?" Nate nodded to the slim man, sleeping soundly, breathing heavily through his mouth.
"I've seen more activity in corpses. Doctor Smith was quite concerned."
The whole time Ezra was talking, his gaze were trained to Vin's stilled form. He wasn't quick enough to hide his eyes from the wise one's of the eldest.
"Seems to me the doctor isn't the only one worried," he winked at the scowling younger man. "You know Nate, a hot bath with some salt might do his back good."
"I can't leave Buck," the healer answered, moving from Vin to the fevered rogue. "Buck, Buck, wake up now ... I need yuh t'drink some tea ... J.D. get his head up!" He sat on the bench next to the bunk and tapped the wet face. "Damn' he's burnin' up ... "
"Buck! I didn't ride all the way her for you to sleep through lunch," J.D. announced loudly, his gaze on the wet head under his arm.
Josiah's eyes were trained on Miss Rosebud and he grinned in appreciation. "Fine figure of a woman." His words brought J.D.'s head up finally.
"She's naked!" He blurted, juggling his patient. His wide eyes locked on the painting on the wall. "Her ... she's got ... breasts."
That comment brought a weak chuckle from the dangerousl ill man. Josiah leaned forward and gripped Buck's forearm, as the weak man spoke.
" ... there's ... h..h..o ... pe ... for ... you ... yet ... K..K ... id ... "
"Buck!" He choked, shifting his body to support the other one better. "You better not die ... "
" ... wasn't ... plannin' on ... it ... " he coughed, turned his head slightly when he felt the pressure on his arm. He saw a blurry gray head and a homemade cross on a leather strip. " ... You here ... on ... official ... bus ... ness ... Preach ... er ... "
"I got no funeral suit with me, Brother," he winked, nodding to the painting. "I'm just here for the view."
"Buck, I got some medicine ... " Nate tipped the mug of warm tea and slowly coaxed it into the ill man. "That'll help some. Here," he followed it up with some water. " ... good..that's it ... all of it ... How's the leg?"
" ... not up ... to ... dancin' ... " Buck coughed, his eyes were so heavy and it was a struggle to stay awake. He blinked at the dark face above him, trying to speak again.
"Don't be lookin' this way," Jackson teased, wiping the wet face again with rubbing alchohol, " ... Yuh ain't my type."
" ... and besides, you don't dance that good." J.D. added, trying not to worry. "Buck?" he angled his head trying to see. "Nate?"
"He's out again." He sighed, "let him go J.D."
"Nate, why don't you and J.D. get Ezra over to the bath house? I'll stay with Buck and Vin."
"Okay," he stood, walking to the cranky gambler.
"I am perfectly capable of bathing on my own. Furthermore ... "
"Shut up, Ezra!" J.D. and Nathan said together.
"You're outnumbered, Ezra, best you just surrender."
"A Standish does not surrender," he hissed, slapping weakly at Nathan's hand. "An o ... cas..s.ion..al ... retreat ... perhaps ... " He was up at last, gripping J.D.'s arm hard. "I'm fine ... "
"Yeah, I guess that's why I got no feeling in my hand," the youth shook his head, flanking one side of the slow moving conman. "So does this Miss Lucy run the bath house?"
"Bite your tongue!" Ezra gasped, "Your attempt at humor is still lacking in content."
The room was quiet at last and the large man moved over to where Vin Tanner was sleeping semi-upright, propped on a rolled up blanket. He saw the eyes darting under the pale lids and heard the soft moans being born. The right hand wavered, grasping for an unseen object. The brows furrowed, the lips trembled and soft flurry of breaths escaped.
The train was on fire. Bodies were burning near him and Ezra was screaming as a jagged piece of metal came through his chest. Blood spilled from the gambler's mouth in great waves, coating his shirt and chest. He was trapped, he couldn't reach Ezra or Buck. Buck? He saw the unseeing eyes of the rogue, his face stilled in death. He struggled but the fiery beam over his head fell down, crushing him.
"Easy, Son," he sat down and rested his good hand on the tanned bare shoulder. The eyes blinked and opened half way, looking at him annoyed. A deep sigh followed, the tongue ran over the dry lips and the brows got denser. "Vin? You back? You want some water?" The face softened and the eyes widened, staring at something beyond the room. He ran a hand inches from the tracker's eyes, and they blinked. "Vin?"
" ... they're ... dead ... " he whispered, breathing heavily. "Ez ... I'm sorry ... Bucklin ... all dead ... why I'm not ... dead ... "
"Hell, Vin, you're too onry to die!" He joked, "You were dreaming, Buck's asleep, see," he motioned to the other man, moving so the troubled Texan could see. "Ezra's getting a bath. Here," he lifted a full mug of cool water and helped the unsteady hand reach the parched lips. "Slow now ... I don't have any clean shirts with me."
" ... ain't gonna throw up ... " Vin defended, "Nate 'round?"
"He's with Ezra ... You hungry? I smell soup."
"Yeah, thanks. See if ya can scare up some of that cat piss," he hissed, trying to make the blurry vision go away. "M'head's killing me." While Josiah left to find food, Vin stood on shakey legs and made his way to Buck's bedside. The scoundrel looked rough. He was doing fine, until the floor started to move. "Shit! Aw, hell ... floor's movin' faster than a whore in church." He sat down on the chair hard, relieved that he one he picked was the real one. He was gasping for breath, but heard the weak laughter. "Bucklin?"
"You ... sure ... do ... got..a..a ... way ... with ... with ... words ... Sl ... Slick ... "
"Ya look like shit," Vin said softly, picking up the rag from the basin on the side of the bed and trying to wipe the fevered man down."
"F ... u ... ck ... you ... Tan ... ner ... " Wilmington grinned, watching Vin's usual nimble hands, roam off track. He was swabbing down the bed, not once did the cloth touch him. Then the hand lifted, putting the cloth on the floor, next to the basin. "Thanks ... Vin ... 'preciate ... that ... "
"Figgered ya needed some help gettin' rid o'that fever. Ya up and die and Chris won't be fit t'live with. Be stompin' the hell all ... ov ... er ... " he swallowed hard, still seeing Garrett's leering face.
Buck turned then, despite he pain it caused and saw such a look of grief driven guilt, it forced an anger to well inside him. The anger drove him upwards on one elbow, peering at the sorry face.
"You lose that face ... or ... find another spot to squat ... " he warned.
"I'm sorry ... Bucklin ... that bastard's gonna pay fer what he done t'ya ... "
"Sorry," he laughed weakly, coughed and saw Vin's hand snake out again, completely missing his hand. "If anyone's gonna ... be ... a ... pol ... ogiz..ing ... it's ... me ... broke my promise ... didn't watch your back ... I'm the one who's sorry ... V ... V..in ... " he forced it out, snagging the wavering hand.
"Ya didn't do no such thing!" Vin rasped in a shocked voice. "Ya ain't got no cause t'feel that way."
"Don't ... you ... tell ... me ... how ... to ... feel!" Buck shot out in a hostile voice. The image of Vin's bloody body in his arms in the train came back. "You damn near died in my arms ... damn sorry-assed Texan."
Vin didn't need his eyes to work to see Buck's emotions. He heard the strong flow of feelings in every word. Nobody hurt for his friends like Buck Wilmington. The angry edict took all his energy away and he was coughing again. He saw two canteens on Buck's bedpost and reached for one. "Hold on ... I'll get ya a drink."
"Never figured ... I'd ... die of thirst ... " Buck joked, grinned weakly and saw Vin miss the canteen twice. " ... s'okay, Vin, I'm not that thirsty ... "
"Shut the hell up, I'm gettin' ya a drink ... " Vin snarled, bobbing his head to get a better angle. "Can't figger it..two of 'em hangin' there ... can't get a lick on one ... "
"Some tracker ... " Buck managed to move his arm enough to nudge the solo canteen into Vin's flagging hand.
"Got it!"
"Good job, Son," Buck took the wavering hand, covering it with his own and took a long drink. "Thanks, Vin." Two sets of less than steady blue eyes met over the water container and found a common ground. Buck saw something there that scared him. A bounty hunter emerged ,his sky eyes hard and his jaw tense. "Vin ... leave it be ... for now ... You ain't up ... to ... ridin' in ... that devil's road ... We'll get ... Garrett ... all of them ... " He eased back, the room fading away.
"I'll find him," Vin said quietly, eyes on the doorway. "He's mine."
Buck tried to protest, to warn Josiah, who was near. He heard that heavy step and the booming voice. He tried to speak, to get the other man to notice, but the room got smaller and smaller, until there was nothing left to see.
"Vin, you okay?" Josiah set the tray down on a table nearby and eyed the strange, faraway look in the sky eyes. He moved closed and snapped his fingers, causing the Texan to blink. "Vin?"
"Huh? Oh," he rose and grabbed the closest thing, which happened to be the preacher's sling. "Aw, hell, 'siah, I'm sorry ... damn floor won't stay put. I hurt ya?"
"No ... " the preacher clenched his jaw and felt tears of pain in his eyes. He moved enough to grab Vin before he fell on top of Buck's raised leg. "Sit down before you fall down," he ordered, shoving the smaller man into a chair. He took the other one and they ate quietly.
"Where'd Chris get to?" Vin finally spoke, wondering why the blond was absent.
"He had business in San Diego, he'll be back tonight."
"Army business?" Vin spat tersly.
"Larabee business," the wise man replied and heard a snort of contempt. "Judge less not ... "
"Stop!" Vin shoved his chair back, eyes hot, "Don't be spittin' them pearly words at me ... not now. Ya weren't there ... ya didn't hear 'em screamin' ... smell 'em roastin' alive ... " He drank the herbal tea and nearly crushed the cup. "I need some air ... " He shoved away from the table and felt his way along the wall, until he found the door. He didn't realize the older man was right behind him.
"Sit! Don't move an inch further, I got to see to Buck." He shoved the irate man onto a bench outside the door. He found a white shirt hanging on a peg inside and helped Vin into it. He had longjohns on and his feet were bare. Safe enough, he couldn't get away with no shoes, half dressed. "I'll be right back."
Vin eased his throbbing skull against the side of the building, nearly screaming for the pain. His ribs ached and he felt the drugged tea taking effect. Then he heard voices nearby and turned, eyeing a trio of soldiers walking from the telegraph. He stood and followed them, holding on to the window sills.
"Where's the Sarge? Teller wired from San Paulo, they got most of the gang. Garrett and Dixon got away."
"He ain't gonna like that." The other one replied.
" ... they think they're hiding out until nightfall, then they're gonna head back this way, try to cross the river and hit the high country. Dixon has friends that'll hide him ... "
The voices faded away as they crossed the street, but Vin heard enough. With a new fuel filling his gut, he turned back, a plan forming in his pounding head. He'd rest all day, then leave after dark. The only place Brad Garrett was going, was straight to Hell. He nearly got back to the door, when he found himself on the boardwalk. A blurry cluster of legs appeared in front of him. He looked up, and wished he hadn't. Instead of one set of angry brown eyes, there were two!
"Nate?" he whispered meekly, trying to avoid the wrath of Jackson. "I ain't seein' t'good ... I musta wandered in m'sleep."
"Do I look like a fool t'yuh!" He shouted, hauling the tangled Tanner limbs upright.
"Well, one of ya might ... hard to tell ... " he squinted, as the taller man and his twin shoved his body through the door.
"Get yuh'r ass in that bed. Yuh'r worse than a child, can't leave yuh alone ... "
" ... best not t'holler and such," Vin panted, totally out of breath now as he was dumped onto a bed," m'head bein' in such a delicate condition ... "
"That might explain what happened t'the brains in there!" he stormed, "I told yuh not t'push yuhself. A head injury ain't nuthin' t'fool with!"
He sat for a moment, before easing back on the raised blankets. He saw Nathan and Josiah tending to Buck and felt a wave of guilt. Buck needed Nathan to concentrate on him, and acting out would only make things worse. He tried to find a way to get comfortable, but the pain in his head only got worse. He felt the soup rising back up and began to panic. He broke out into a cold sweat, sat up and doubled over. The room took on a red tinge as the fire behind his eyes exploded. His heart began to hammer and he tried to control the spasms in his gut. Just as his panic was being to reach a crest, he felt a strong set of hands on his back, easing him over a basin. They held his hair back and rubbed his back while he lost his lunch. The smooth voice and steady hands, guided him through the ordeal, cleaned him up and righted him.
"I'm sorry," he rasped, unable to open his eyes for the pain.
"Why didn't yuh say somethin'?" Nate guided a cold cup of water to the parched lips.
"Thanks ... " Vin drank gratefully, finally getting one eye half open. " ... Buck needs ya ... don't wanna be a bother."
"Vin, yuh listen ... Vin?" Jackson sighed, as the slim man's body fell. He gently guided him back onto the bed and pulled the blanket up. If that raspy apology wasn't effective enough, the hollowed blue eyes were. Shaking his head, he went to join J.D., helping Ezra back into the room. Vin heard the retreating footsteps and welcomed the approaching slumber. He would need all his strength, for his journey after sunset.
Page | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17
Return to Deirdre's Fic Archive | Return to Lady Angel's Library
