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.
Through fevered eyes which filled his world with stilted, garish imagery, he watched the scene unfolding as if in slow motion. Dawn blushed at the rude intrusion and shifted her gown, letting more light peek out. The fire was dying, but the red coals gave the stranger a devilish glow. Vin swallowed hard, his voice stilled from weakness and thirst. Why hadn't Teheno replied? Was his brother ill? He eyed the trembling gun in the white man's hand and moved his own arm under the garment which covered him. He felt the rippling muscles of his brother's forearm gripping his waist. Panting for every nimble breath that fled on hot feet, he made a vow. He'd protect his older brother.
Something heavy was covering him. Thick folds of hot, oozing sludge covered his lean frame. He groaned and fought through the wall of mud encasing his aching body. It was deep and black, choking him, it's weight bearing too hard on his chest. He couldn't breathe ... couldn't think ... couldn't see. He moaned and fought on, past the pain that roared in his side. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't open either eye and gave into the pain. Then he heard a voice from far away. It rained down from a place above him, the voice was broken and full of pain. Someone was hurt. The jagged cry came again, louder and roused him. He heard the fear laced through the words and fought back. Then the call came again, louder still and hit his chest. He knew the bearer of that cry of desperation. The words that tumbled forth were a part of him.
"Vin!" Chris choked, jerking his eyes open. He saw, or rather tasted, a mouthful of tangled brown hair. He felt the jangled limbs he held in place, jerkly wildly. "What's ... wr ... ong ... " he managed, clicking his thick tongue around his all too small mouth.
"Daiboo!" Vin screamed, eyeing the startled stranger. Why didn't Teheno attack? What was wrong? Was he too injured? There was no time to waste, he would protect his older brother. He stared at the man and made his plea known.
"Vin!"
That startled choking voice caused the damp blond head to rise. He blinked several times, trying to focus on the face that rose above his own. Then he saw the gun and his arm shot out, fumbling against Vin's thrashing body and the coat that covered them. Dark hair, stubble covering the youthful face and large, almost luminous hazel eyes floated above through the fog.
"J.D.?" He croaked painfully as Vin's elbow connected with his ribcage. "Cut that out, Vin, he won't hurt you. It's okay, it's ... " He winced painfully as his words were cut off by a long and volatile stream of jangled words in a strange dialect. Sighing, he moved sideways, hoping to contain the fevered, irate body that fought with alarming reserve.
"What's wrong with him?" J.D. stammered, shocked by the violent reaction and lethal eyes trained on him. Vin's lips curled up, baring feral teeth as more angry strange words shot forth. Then his hand shot up.
"Get rid of the gun!" Chris screamed, barely containing Vin. He moved his body again, crying out as his side exploded and a pain shot through his shoulder. Despite his best efforts, Vin got a hand on the barrel of the gun. "Now J.D. He doesn't know you ... he's lost in the past. Get out of here until ... I ... calm ... ." He had no more air left and used what little strength was left to hold Vin against him. From his peripheral vision, he saw J.D. holster his gun and make an attempt to help them. That was a mistake. Vin reacted even more violently, when the youth attempted to move him. The nimble tracker's hand shot out and grabbed the sheriff's gun. Chris snagged the arm in time, displacing it. "Goddammit J.D. do as i tell you!" He jerked his head towards the cluster of red rocks behind them. "Now!"
Vin felt the earth kiss his face and grunted. "Teheno ... hagani' yunde?" Why was he doing this? The enemy was getting away! "Gai ... Gai.." he fought weakly, choking on the dust and sand he was inhaling. As Teheno's voice fell into his ear, he felt the strong arms return, holding him. The initial rush of andrenalin wore off and he was utterly spent. He wanted to question his brother more, but he had nothing left. With a small cry of protest, his eyes fluttered shut.
"Easy, Vin, you're okay." Chris used a calm voice, feeling Vin's heart hammering in record time against his chest. He felt the body go limp and then gently rolled him over. "It's okay ... " he called out, sitting back hard and closing his eyes.
J.D. peered from the rock, only when he saw Vin was unconscious again, did he move. He walked slowly to where the pair lie in a heap, limbs splayed haphazardly. He eyed Chris first, taking in the large, dark stain on his side. "Did you get shot?"
"Yeah," Chris rasped, "Gimme a hand." He moved his aching body over, fumbling for the canteen. On hand brushed over the flame colored face of his best friend. "He's burning up ... are you alone?"
"No ... yeah ... not really." the youth replied, lifting Vin upright, so Chris could get his leg free. It was then he saw the sharpshooter's back. "Did Garrett do that?" His voice rose in rage. "Hey, where is he?"
"Rotting in Hell, I hope," Larabee replied, nearly overcome by dizziness. "Define not really?" He inquired of the youth's reply.
"Well ... I caught Dixon, but the posse got in my way and I had to hold them off 'cause they were gonna let him go but then the Major came and boy was he mad he gave Birch the okay to take him to town and then ... ."
"Stop!" Chris put up both hands to end the painful, loud burst of rambling Dunne that was hitting his tender skull like bullets. He didn't care about most of the jumble of words, except one thing. "Where's Kelly?"
"He's trailing behind me, horse is acting up. He'll be here soon. Where's Garrett? Did he shoot you? How bad is Vin hurt? Where's your horse?"
"Slow ... er ... " Chris dictated, wincing at the frantic pace of the easterner's words.
"Sorry," J.D. knelt behind Vin, lifting him up so Chris could get some water into him.
"Horses ran off. Don't know where that bastard is ... he got Vin good. He's lucky if he's already dead." Chris managed, watching two blue slits appear. "I got something for you to drink, okay?"
"Haa ... " Vin agreed, relieved to see Teheno alive and well. " ... hagani naakwa?" He asked, not understanding what had happened.
"You got hurt, remember?" the blond answered, frowning as he saw the inflamed area by the scalp wound.
"Haa ... " Vin nodded, he saw the pain etched in his brother's face and the fresh blood stains appearing on his shoulder and side. " ... hapi ... "
"I'm okay," he smiled, feeling the Texan's fingers tugging on his shirt. "You want a drink?"
" ... hibi ... " Vin replied, eyes shifting weakly to the bottle.
"No, water," Chris brought the canteen upwards nudging Vin's slack lips, as the eyes slid shut. "Vin? Open up, I got water."
"baa?" the whisper returned, eyebrows furrowing over closed lids.
"Yeah, come on," He gently nudged again, but the frown returned.
"Gai ... Gai ... " the delirious body protested. He didn't want water, he wanted the fire in the bottle to take the pain away. ' ... hibi ... "
"Don't give me any shit, Vin, drink the fuckin' water!" he growled and the mouth worked, suckling the edge of the canteen. Finally, the lips fell away and the leader sat back satisfied.
"I didn't know you spoke ... well ... whatever that was," J.D. amazed, easing Vin down onto Chris's coat.
"I don't," Chris answered wearily, sitting next Tanner, resting against a rock. His face was soaking wet and he made no attempt to stop the flow of moisture.
"But ... how did you know what he said ... you answered him ... he heard you ... " the youth perplexed, amazed at what he saw.
"I listened," Chris shrugged, peeling an eye open and fixing his stare on the injured man's troubled face. "I guess between his head wound and Garrett beating him ... " he sighed, "when I found last night, he was like this ... right after his sister was killed. I'm guessing he's about thirteen or so ... "
"All night?" J.D. amazed, "I don't know how you did it ... Did he get shot too? His pants are wet ... "
"Shit!" Chris sat foward painfully, grabbing J.D.'s arm which shot out when he spun. The earth was tilting and whirling. "He's bleeding again ... "
"I'll do it," the youth shoved Chris back.
"He took it high in thigh, near the hip. I took the bullet out. You'll have to repack it ... tear up some bandages and soak them in Carbolic. Pack the wound and rewrap it until Nate can fix it. Garrett burned him ... arm ... hack off some cactus pulp, it seemed to help."
"Okay," J.D. spent fifteen minutes tending to Vin's hip and arm, before dabbing medicine on the head wound. "Geez this is hot ... " he noted of the inflamed skin around the angry head wound.
" ... infected ... " Chris grunted, hissing as it felt like an invisible jaw locked onto his shoulder. "I need your bedroll, water and any supplies you have. Then you haul ass back to town and get a wagon and Nathan. He'll never survive out here when the heat of the day comes."
"Okay," J.D. returned in few minutes, unrolled his bedroll near the fire. He dropped a canteen and his saddlebags next to Vin. Chris was sitting beside the fallen buffalo hunter, his eyes were closed. One hand was covering the wound on his side and his own fever was evident. He got some coffee started, rummaged in the bag and took out carbolic, bandages and willow bark tea. Finally, he took out a sandwich wrapped in cloth. "Chris, what happened to your shoulder?"
"Stabbed," he groaned, shirking the shirt off as J.D. unbuttoned it. When the fabric resisted angrily at the top of his shoulder, he cried out. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Sorry, it's stuck," J.D. frowned, "hold on ... " He used a little whiskey in a cup and warmed it, then loosened the fabric and got the shirt off. The wound wasn't deep, but oozing yellowly liquid. He dabbed it with carbolic and wrapped it, before cleaning and retaping Chris's side. Then he put the tattered shirt back. "Here," He shoved the sandwich into Chris's one hand and filled the mug with coffee. "You eat, I'm gonna scout around. Where did you last see Garrett?"
"Back by the drop ... be careful!" Chris called out, blinking at the blurry sandwich in his hand. It took all of his strength to lift the bread to his lips. He fumbled and stumbled, but got the sandwich down, and the coffee as well.
Voices alerted the semi-conscioius man to a body approaching. A young, healthy body with a gun. He heard snatches of the conversation and knew whoever it was, they'd be leaving soon. He pressed himself lower into the rocks, holding his breath as the boots crunched on the gravel nearby. Finally, they retreated and he was alone again. He knew the blood loss would be taking over soon and he'd be unable to move. He sat up, took slow, careful breaths and waited, hoping his numb fingers could pick the gun up again.
"Soon, you bastard," Garrett whispered, blood and sweat running a race down his face.
"You gonna be okay?" J.D. asked, handing Chris a mug of willow bark tea. "You look as bad as Vin?"
"I think you hit your head," Larabee tossed back, "Something's wrong with your eyes. In a coma, I could look better than ... that ... Texan r ... r ... at ... " he coughed, shivered and pulled the duster up. "Well?" he squinted up at the dark-haired youth, his body blocked by the cresting sun.
"I didn't find him ... just dried blood by a steep drop off. He must have gone over."
"Pity."
J.D. smiled not at the word, but the emphasis behind it. He knew how deeply Chris cared for the tracker and the edge on the word uttered supported that. He drew a mental image of Chris tearing Garrett from limb to limb and then settling into his chair at the saloon, sipping a whiskey. Vin would drop in the chair by his side, neither would speak. But their body language spoke volumes.
"Ride," Chris uttered, hand resting on the knife the youth recovered. " ... fast!"
" ... like the wind ... " the youth tallied, "But how 'bout we get some willow tea in Vin first? I'll hold him up?"
" ... breathes better up ... busted ribs ... " Chris groaned, his moves slow and sluggish.
"Before I go, I'll prop him against those low rocks, cover him up ... " J.D. noted, sliding behind Vin and lifting him. "Okay?"
"Yeah," Chris took a deep breath, blinked at the blurry Tanner body and tapped the wet cheek. 'Vin, wake up, I got some special tea ... it'll help you feel better." Without protest, the head moved, the mouth opened and the leader got a good full dose into him. Then the face screwed up and the nose wrinkled.
" ... natesu'uN ... " Vin spat his tongue out.
"Yeah, it's medicine," Chris agreed, "Come on, drink up ... " Five minutes later, the cup was empty and J.D. left Vin propped against a bank of rocks. The black duster covered him and Chris sat next to him.
"I won't be long," he promised, "I'm sure the Major will be here soon," he noted, taking a leg up and turning the horse. He saw Chris nod and nudged the steed, knowing it would be the most important ride he ever took. Little did he know, he was being watched. The wounded hunter waited until the boy was long gone, before taking the gun and beginning his trip.
Vin sighed and blinked, feeling like a loaf of bread baking in his grandmother's kiva. He was so thirsty and he hurt all over, especially his head. Where was Teheno? He saw a pair of dark pants and followed the leg upwards. Then the vision got stranger. He shook his head and closed his eyes, hoping when he reopened them, he'd see his brother.
" ... gai ... gai ... " he denied, blinking as his brother's fine profile disappeared into a cap of short blond hair. "Te ... he..no ... " he whispered, reaching a wavering hand out and touching the strange yellow hair.
"Vin?" Chris jumped at the slight touch of fingers to his head. He saw the confusion on Vin's face and his heart sank. Coupled with the fingers laced in his hair, he had a sinking feeling of what he muddled eyes were saying. "It's okay, Vin, I ... "
" ... ohapite ... " Vin rasped of the yellow color. Then Teheno's face turned towards him, the pride remained locked into the other's eyes, but they were no longer dark.
"What's wrong?" Chris asked, watching Vin's eyes widen and the hand retract in fear.
" ... buhibite ... " his voice wavered of the green eyes that now bore down on him. He touched his own eyes and pointed to the strange light ones. " ... buhibite ... " His confused fear evolved into full fleged panic, when Teheno's face disappeared entirely. In his place, was a white man, but he was not afraid of him. Something in that strong, deep gaze calmed him. But where did Tehano go? He lifted his wet head and peeked into the desert beyond the stranger. "Teheno?" he called out hopefully, desparately needing to see him.
"Shit!" Chris muttered, reaching over when Vin tilted sideways and nearly fell. The younger man struggled weakly, crying out for his brother. Every whispered syllable broke a bit of the leader's heart. Finally, the body went limp and he eased him back. Then the pressure in his bladder forced him to his feet. He walked away, eyeing a group of rocks nearby and set about to relieve himself.
Through fitful dreams he shifted, the sun trying to pry inside his tender skull. Then the strong, hot light was blocked. He blinked, opened his eyes and raised them hopefully. Was his brother back? "Teheno?" His voice rose in anticipation and his heart picked up. He raised a hand, seeking to touch his brother, only to the carefully ministered bandages on his burn ripped off. A vise like claw ripped into his torched skin. The pain was so terrific, it rendered him speechless. His mouth gaped open, locked in agony, as tears ran from his eyes and his body stiffened. He saw the features then, clearly. Brad Garrett was kneeling over him. The pain and shock fought a battle with fear and need, merging into a powerful urge. One word formed on his tortured brain. He had only a brief second to make the call, before a gun barrel was shoved in his gaping mouth.
"Chrs!"
"Vin!" the injured gunslinger froze, buttoning his fly. It wasn't a scared young boy calling out, it was his friend. Vin wouldn't panic like that, not even this ill, unless he was in mortal danger. He stumbled and staggered, cresting the rocks and his eyes shot up in terror. Vin was slumped against the rocks, Garrett was straddling him, trying to hold a gun in his mouth. It happened at the same time, he sucked his gut in, took a deep breath and used all his waning strength to aim his body at the intruder. Just as he arrived, the gun slipped. They struggled, each weaked by bullet wounds, blood loss and lack of food and water. Grunting and groveling, they each battled for control of the gun. Garrett finally got it, slamming him on the side of the face. He tasted blood, where his teeth came through his lip. Through the shimmering crimson haze of pain his world had become, Chris Larabee watched, paralyzed as the gun once again moved toward's Vin's slack lips. With his last ounce of strength, Chris put his body between them, ready to take the bullet. But he missed and ended up against Vin's chest, under his chin. His whole body jumped as the shot rang out and he felt moisture, red and sticky, falling fast on his cheek from above. He clenched his eyes closed, mortally wounded by his own failure to save his best friend's life. The young boy who so trusted 'Teheno' to guard him was gone forever.
Dawn barely revealed her new dress, when the judge entered the room. He carried the full tray over to the long table against the wall and set it down. He turned his attention to the two figures by the bed, a physician and his patient. He frowned at the harsh sound of the infirmed man's breathing. He caught the doctor's eye, as he helped his sit up.
"How is he?"
"Weak ... tired ... and full of congestion." Doctor Smith replied, turning to the groggy womanizer. "Buck, you need a croup tent. I'll get the water boiling and the herbs I need, you eat your breakfast."
"Okay, thanks Doc," Buck wheezed, coughing a wad of sputnum into a cloth and dropping it into a can next to the bed. "You headin' to the kitchen?"
"I am," The doctor replied, eyeing the can.
"Can you toss them in the fireplace? Nate don't like it when they hang around, he' burns 'em up right off."
"I will," he picked up the can and eyed the tray. "Can you manage?"
"I'll help him," Orrin Travis said, before turning his attention to the injured man. "How are you, Buck?"
"I'm breathin'," he coughed, thinking of the dead on the train. "Any word?"
"Not yet, Nathan and Josiah left a short time ago." He moved closer, bringing the footed tray with him. He set in over Buck's lap and lifted the lid. A bowl of rich chicken noodle soup, a pot of tea, a basket of bread and a jug of cider awaited. "While it's hot ... "he encourged, watching Buck lift the spoon. The soup was half done, and two rolls gone, when the dark head came up for air.
"Sorry," the mustached man apologized, "I guess I didn't realize how hungry I was. Sit down."
"I'm not staying long, I have a breakfast meeting with the President and his group. They'll be over to talk with you about the incident on the train. Are you up to that?"
"Yeah," Buck took a long swig of cider and wiped his mouth. He leaned back on the pillows, exhausted from the consuming of the meal. He flinched and rubbed the area above his immobilized leg. It throbbed like the devil and his head hurt. "Damn I hate this ... " his lingering eyes went to the horizon. He would give anything to be out there, looking for Vin and Chris.
"I know," he patted the rogue's good leg. "You wear you heart on your sleeve, Buck. We caught Colonel Dixon."
"When?" Buck wheezed, dipping a biscuit into his soup. "What about Garrett?"
"A short time ago, a posse brought him in. They were trailing a gang of bank robbers, when they encountered Dixon and J.D."
"J.D.!" Buck choked on his roll and ended up in a coughing fit. He lost the roll and more congestion, taking the cold cider Orrin offered. "Thanks ... " he gasped, wiping his mouth.
"He's fine." He answered the worried eyes. "As a matter of fact, Sheriff Birch, who headed the posse, was quite impressed. It seems out youthful lawman kept them at bay for quite some time. The Colonel was trying to sweet talk his way free, but J.D. held them all off. Birch sent a man this way, to confirm J.D.'s story and met Major Kelly. The posse brought Dixon in and Kelly went with J.D. to find Chris and Vin."
"Garrett?" Buck wheezed, frowning at the look on Orrin's face.
"From the letter Kelly sent in with Birch, it would appear he met up with Vin last night sometime."
"Goddammit!" Buck shoved the tray away, nearly tipping it over. "I should have done ... something ... made him ... stay ... "
"An exercise in futility, Buck," The Judge advised of the unwarrented guilt washing over the rogue's pale face. "You're not to blame. Put that anger to use and fight that infection. Drink that tea and get some rest. I'll be back later."
It was raining. The drops of moisture splashed on his hot face. A few trickled onto his parched lips and he licked them, seeking relief. His throat was on fire, his chest burned and his head was split in half. He frowned then, licking the metallic taste that wasn't rain. He peeled an eye open and saw a dazed face peering down at him, inches from his own. Blood ran freely, covering one side, running past the fine cheekbone, down the curve of jaw and onto his own face. Too weak to move, he managed to pry his dry lips open and protest.
"Get ... the hell ... away ... Lar ... a ... bee ... " he rasped, struggling for each breath. He batted the other's chest weakly, trying to move him. "Yer bleedin' the hell all over me."
"Vin?"
"Who was ya expectin'?" Vin blinked, trying to focus on the very blurry image. His head hurt so bad, it was hard to keep his eyes open. He couldn't remember much ... just pain ... lots of pain. He saw Chris shudder and eyed the blood with a worried glance. "Sit down 'afore ya keel over on me. Hell, I ain't got but a few parts workin'. Jes' my luck, ye'll bust somethin'. What happened? Where the hell are we? My brain's is fryin' faster the gizzards on a griddle."
Chris didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He studied the angry Texan's features and gripped the back of his neck, giving it a tug. He felt the heat of Vin's fever rising, but also the blood coursing through his veins. Then his shoulder's sagged bit and he looked away. While he welcomed the return of his best friend and drank in every crusty syllable uttered, a part of him missed the young boy he'd been given the priviledge to see. For a few hours, the mists of time parted and he was able to become a vital part of the young teenager Tanner's life.
" ... s'wrong ... " Vin whispered, not liking the strange, quiet melancholic face above him. With a brief bit of wavering strength, he lifted his mangled, burned arm, despite the pain. He tapped the bloodied cheek. "Chris, ya okay?"
"Yeah," he sighed, watching the animated boy Tanner who mimicked him just a few hours, full of mischief and mirth, disappear under the departing Eve's coat. He gripped the bloody paw, just at Vin's eyes shot wide open and a sharp gasp fell through his cracked lips.
"Oh God ... he's ... " Vin blinked as the memory came slamming back hard, bouncing off every tender fiber in his body. The gun in his mouth ... the glazed eyes over his face, the lips curling in a sneer. He was too weak to fight and thought he was ticketed for a pine box, until a blond tornado twisted the hand of Fate. "Ya saved m'life ... " he choked out, then scowled, "What the hell did ya do that fer? Christ, he couldda blowed yer fuckin' head off. Goddamn, interfer ... fer..in ... " He ran out of air then and panicked, not able to draw a breath. His vision wavered and he felt his body moved upright. Words pressed into his ear, urgent and calm, ordering him to relax and breathe. He slumped forward, grateful when sweet air finally found home.
When Vin sagged against him, Chris wiped the blood from the gash on his head. His own fever made his thought process slower and weighed down his lightning fast reactions. He hadn't shot Garrett and Garrett hadn't shot either of them. Keeping a protective arm on Vin, whose head was pressed to his sore shoulder, he winced and turned. Then he saw a sight that did make him flinch. It went past the physical pain and much deeper. "I'm sorry," he offered, meeting the eyes of the man who saved both of them. Sad eyes ... haunted eyes ... filled with a grief so deep it wasn't fathomable. Given the situation, he didn't think he could have pulled the trigger. He eyed the man with a mixture of admiration and sorrow. He felt Vin stirring against him and saw a brief glimmer of anger in the sky eyes. It was the uniform of course. He cupped the tracker's jaw and forced him to look. "Look!"
"I seen him already. Don't need t'see more ... he's dead." Vin tried to pull away, but Chris wouldn't budge.
"Not at Garrett ... " he clenched, " ... look closer ... look at his face, Vin. What do you see?"
"He's takin' it awful hard ... " Vin pondered, watching Major Thomas Kelly cradling Garrett's body. The army man's hand wavered a moment, before closing the dead man's eyes. Vin saw the gaping hole in Garrett's throat. A perfect shot that saved both of their lives. "Helluva shot ... "
"I couldn't have taken it ... I don't know many men who could." Chris paused, forcing Vin to look again. "It's his son ... "
"What!" Vin gasped, the shock waves slamming into him hard. Then he saw the army major lift the lifeless body forward, kissing the forehead as tears ran down his face.
"I only found out before we left town to hunt you. Bradford Garrett Kelly. The Major has been chasing him for years. It's not easy being an officer assigned out here. Your family has to move around alot. Mrs. Kelly and the boy were on a stage on their way to South Dakota to the new Fort he was assigned to. Garrett was about fourteen. The stage got lost in a storm and crossed into Apache territory. It was brutal ... they were slaughtered. He was the only survivor. He never forgave the Major. He ran off the day after his mother's funeral. The Major's been tracking him since then, he nearly caught him after the incident at your village. But Garrett hooked up with Dixon's outfit and moved to Mexico, raiding border towns." He paused, wiped the blood running down his face and warded off the dizziness fastly falling. He gripped Vin's chin hard, sealing in the gaze. "So you take a good look Vin, sometimes, them boots and buttons are polished for a reason! You understand?
Vin did look, long and hard, through his own pain. He saw the man, not the uniform and realized how wrong he'd been. He felt the gravity hit him, that this man had sacrificed his only son to save them. What kind of courage did that take? Could he have made that choice with such accuracy and timing? It was then that Major Thomas Bradford Kelly gently lowered his first and only child to the ground. He rose on unsteady legs and walked towards them. Vin held his gaze then, blue on blue. He thought for a moment, then lifted his bloody hand, saluting the officer. He blinked for a few seconds as the other men knelt down. His jaw worked, trying to speak ... to say thank you ... but nothing came. He saw the salute returned and felt a hand on his bare shoulder.
"I'm so very sorry, Mister Tanner. I hope one day you can forgive me for what my son did to your family. "
He started to speak, but the black spots appeared. They marred his picture and soon he couldn't see the Major anymore. He didn't realize his eyes were closed again. From far away, he heard Chris's voice and felt the leader's heart beating through the fabric pressed to his cheek. He relaxed then, he was safe.
"How is he?" Major Kelly asked, as the wounded blond man gently lowered his friend to the ground. Chris Larabee doused a cloth and began wiping his friend's fevered face and neck.
"He's alive ... we both are, thanks to you." Chris paused long enough to extend his bloody hand. "I'm grateful, so is Vin. He's got a lot of healing to do, inside and out. This whole episode brought back a lot of bad memories for him."
"To say the least, " The Major agreed, looking at his own son, then the unconscious peacekeeper. "I wonder, Chris, where I went wrong? This boy lost so much in his life, through death and war, yet he was able to harness the bitterness and become a man anyone would be proud to call son, I know I would." He touched Vin's cheek then, "Why couldn't Brad have ... been ... " he took a shuddering breath, suddenly unable to focus. "I'm so ashamed ... "
"You got no call to hang your head, Major." Chris dictated.
"He wasn't always that way, he was a beautiful child, so like his mother. Full of laughter ... until my job required us to leave Washington when he was ten. I had to leave them frequentely out here and he learned to despise me and the uniform. He began to misbehave, rebel and get into fights. He learned to hate this uniform and me for wearing it. Margaret's tragic death was the last straw. I should have seen something ... a sign ... earlier ... maybe ... sent him back East to school. I don't know ... "
"It's twenty years past, Sir, don't revisit it." Chris sat down, swaying severely as the whole area spun past.
"My God," Kelly choked, clenching his painful eyes shut, "What have I done?"
Chris left the wet cloth on Vin's neck and turned then, gripping the downcast blue shoulder hard. "You didn't kill him, Major, he died a long time ago. This wasn't anybody's fault."
"He ... didn't ... wasn't dead when I got to him. I had a few moments. He touched my face." Kelly faltered, grasping at emotions, "Maybe it was just a father's hope, but in those last few moments, the monster was gone and I held my son again. The same baby I cradled and the loving boy whose eyes shined at me."
"Yeah," Chris managed, "He's at peace now ... with his mother."
"I hope so," Kelly gently forced the younger man to sit down. He took his bandanna off and tied it around the bleeding cut on the blond's head. "You rest, I'll see to your friend."
"J.D. went for a wagon ... " Chris added, resting his eyes. It seemed like just a few moments passed, when he felt a hand on his throat. His own hand snapped to his waist, automatically searching for a gun. But a strong hand stopped him and the deep voice that followed, caused his eyes to pop open. He saw a blue sling first and followed it upwards.
"Josiah," he croaked, his throat drier than burned leaves. "Water ... "
"Hold on," the preacher picked up a canteen and helped the weak man drink. Above the canvas clad water vessel, he saw the green eyes roaming the landscape. "He's over there, Nate's seein' to him."
"Nate?" Chris coughed, finally coming up for air. His filthy shirt was gone and he was clean and freshly bandaged. "Thank God ... bastard damn near killed him." His fumbling fingers found new bandages on his side and head. He tried to raise his left arm, but found it was difficult.
"Nuh-uh," Sanchez eased the arm back down. "New stitches on your side, shoulder and that hard head. Nate don't like his work busted up."
Chris paused a moment, his eyes lingering on the large hand that supported him. He moved north, seeing the caring, smokey blue eyes of their eldest. "Ugliest fuckin' babysitter I ever saw." He grunted, feeling the deep laughter settle in around him.
"I was gonna give you some grub," Josiah shot back, arching an eyebrow, "but I think my feelings are hurt."
"You delicate flowers are all alike," the blond coughed, winced and flinched, resting his arm across his waist. " ... feel like shit ... "
"I can't imagine why, Boss," Josiah turned as someone approached. "Get a plate of food and a mug of that herbal tea for Chris, J.D."
"I just got done unpacking the wagon and fixing beds in the back for them. I unpacked the food, cooked it, ran back and forth getting Nate supplies and stuff ... I've been riding all night. I'm tired. Get it yourself, I'm taking a break." He defied, ready to flop down, until an arm shot out, grabbing his bicep.
"Excuse me?" the graying man directed, "I know you're not talking to me in that tone of voice."
"Aw, hell Josiah, I ... " His hazel eyes widened when he heard a snort and saw his mentor smiling at him. "Hey, Chris, you're awake! How you feeling? Nate sure was mad at Vin ... I never heard him cuss so much. Good thing Vin wasn't awake or maybe not ... I bet it would have been quite a battle. Nobody cusses like Vin does. Major Kelly told us what happened. As soon as Nate gets done with Vin, we're heading back to town." He stopped for air, when the other two began to laugh and Josiah's hand ruffled his dark hair. "Cut that out! What's so funny?" He demanded, watching Chris Larabee's wide grin.
"You are, Kid." Larabee offered warmly with his hand. "You done good, John Daniel and I'm proud of you. You made the right choice," he referred to the earlier conversation that they had in the camp the week prior.
"Yeah, I guess I did. You were right, Chris, I did feel it inside, it wasn't as hard as I thought." He sighed, "I guess I'm back to 'fetch and tote' duty." He wiped the sweat from his face and turned to leave. "Sometimes it sucks being the youngest." He grinned as they laughed again and Josiah swatted his backside.
"You're very good," Major Kelly noted, watching the tall, dark-skinned man working. Like the others on the investigtive team, he'd heard dozens of accounts about this man's work. Survivor's all noted the skill to which those hands worked in the wake of the tragic crash. Now they were tending to someone he cared for. He saw the emotion cresting in the dark brown eyes.
"I'm no doctor, but thanks," Nate offered, finally getting the last of the soiled clothing from Vin. He pulled a thin blanket over the unconscious man and eyed the kettle nearby. J.D. got a fire going and water was simmering inside. He ladeled some of it out, into a deep bowl, filled with slivers of soap. Soon suds formed and he gently washed the grime, filth and dried blood from Vin Tanner's very abused body. The slim man never stirred. That done, he set about fixing the broken form. The marks on the back angered him, rousing memories he thought long dead. He pushed the thoughts aside and washed them again with carbolic. The ribs would be next. Trained fingers slowly worked the bones up and down, feeling new breaks. "Shit ... " he sighed, "Can yuh hold him up for me? I need to retape 'em."
"Certainly," Kelly complied, supporting the injured man.
"Thanks," Nate nodded, upon completion. "Yuh can lower him back down."
"Yuh sure is one helluva mess, Vin Tanner," he said quietly catching the tracker's chin and eyeing the swollen, discoloration that marred the fine features he usually saw. He felt the slumbering man's cheek, neck and forehead. "He's burnin' up ... " He turned his attention next to the inflammed area around the hellish head wound. It was raised, flaming red, hot to the touch and crusted yellow. "It's infected ... I'm gonna open it ... " He snipped the old stitches and pressed a hot, soapy cloth along the wound. Then he pressed again, with clean hot water, a move that caused a cry of pain and two blue slits to appear. The blinked up at him, totally unfocused. The pale lips parted, a tongue snaked out and the body shivered and coughed. "Major, get him up. I want to get some of this willow bark and ginger tea in him, while he's roused." He lifted the cup and nudged Vin's open lips. "Drink up, go on now ... " The eyes blinked again, the head tilted, trying to place the voice and the brows furrowed. "It's Nathan, Vin, Yuh drink up now!" He said harshly, a trick that usually worked.
From the deep abyss he was lost in, fighting waves of pain and fire, a voice broke through. A voice he knew, he relaxed at the hands probing him then, he knew who cared so much.
" ... mad ... fer ... " he squeaked in a weak, angry protest.
"'cause yuh should be back in town, not runnin' around out in the desert gettin' yuh scrawny ass shot to pieces." The eyes opened again and a hand flopped against his leg, batting it weakly. Nate put the mug down and grabbed the hand.
" ... sorry ... " Vin offered, trying to find Nathan's face. " ... ya there ... can't see ... ya ... Nate?"
"Where else would I be?" Nate soothed, using his free hand to move to Vin's cheek. "Yuh still my best customer. I ain't gonna leave yuh, Vin."
" ... ain't feelin' s'good ... "
"That's cause yuh'r sick ... fevered up good. Here, I got somethin' for yuh ... "
" ... piss ... cat ... " Vin rasped, eyeing a blurry mug near his mouth.
"Yup, open up!" Sure enough, the body relaxed and the jaw worked, draining the cup as well as a full mug of water. "Okay, Major, he's out again."
"Aren't you going to restitch that wound?" the officer watched the dark man move from Tanner's head to his burned arm.
"No, it's still oozin' crud. I'm gonna leave it open for awhile. His arm's infected too ... " He gently dabbed at the harsh red skin, covered with nasty blisters. He rummaged around the box of supplies at his hip, and drew out a new bottle of salve. The army sent new supplies the day before from San Diego. Not knowing what to expect, he packed as many as he could. He took the cap off and poured some lavender and linseed oil onto the raw, hot skin. He then slathered on tinture of St. John's wort and covered the hand, wrist and arm with a gauze bandage. Finally, he tipped Vin sideways, nodding for the major to hold him in place. He took from the wound in Vin's outer upper leg, the carbolic soaked lint. He repacked it, before bandaging it; he wanted Dr. Smith to do the work inside. "It'll keep until the surgeon can fix it ... " He eased Vin back down on the mat and pulled the blanket up, before again, lifting a cloth doused with rubbing alchohol and water. He soaked Vin's face, neck and chest with the fever reducer, pausing to eye Chris Larabee across the camp. Josiah was sitting next to the injured gunslinger, who now held an empty plate. He saw Chris watching him with a hawklike stare and twice saw the preacher's good hand clamp down on the shoulder, preventing Chris from getting up. He smiled then at the worry and fear housed there. "He's okay," He shouted over, but the furrowed green gaze didn't diminish. "J.D. yuh got the wagon ready? Make sure them mattresses are secure. I don't want Vin bouncin' are around too much."
"Hell, why don't I run up to St. Louis while I'm up," the youth snapped, the healer's words stopped him from sitting down finally.
"Don't sass me, Boy!" the healer countered, "Get that stretcher out, let's get the show on the road."
Chris watched with heavy eyes, as the wagon was packed and his best friend's prone unmoving body was lifted. The sun was much too harsh, even in the early morning light. It caused him to become languid and lazy. His eyes drifted shut, fighting hard to open when he felt himself being hauled upright. He saw Nathan at his side and grunted as pain shot through him.
"Take it easy now," the exmedic soothed, helping the injured man into the wagon. "Hunker down next to Vin. We're gonna put a canvas over top, so the sun won't get at yuh."
"Vin ... " Chris coughed, laying down on the thick mattress and sighing as the harsh sun was taken away. He clamped his good hand on the tracker's bare shoulder, nudging the blanket down so he could touch skin. His fumbling fingers felt the pulse racing through the scorched flesh and he relaxed. He kept his hand there, the fingers remained so wherever Vin was, he would know he wasn't alone. They stayed fixed in place, as the wagon rolled across the landscape and long after the green eyes slid shut.
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