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.
Author's Note: This story was written for Julie's birthday. Happy Birthday Julie!
The words 'bone weary' took on a whole new meaning for the ex-slave. The few hours he could snatch for catnaps, weren't enough. He was tired...Lord was he tired. He thought of how nice a few days resting at the village with Rain would be. The beautiful face filled his mind and the memories of her sweet kisses and warm body made him groan. He turned on the cot, realizing he had only a few hours until sunup. Ben Johnson was doing better, but so weak he couldn't walk yet. Josiah was supposed to relieve him at dawn. He was heading back to town to get a hot bath, a hot meal and a soft bed. His heavy eyes slid shut and he resumed his fitful sleep.
Buck jumped from his horse and eased through the front door. He winced as he crouched over Nathan. Even in the dim lamplight, the healer looked awful. He'd lost weight, shadows marked his face as only exhaustion can. Sighing, he tipped his hat back and shook the tall man's shoulder.
"Nate...Nate..." he whispered, not wanting to rouse Callie or Ben.
"Huh?"
"Sorry," Buck apologized to the blinking eyes. "You gotta get up...get over to Chris's..."
"Damn fool!" He hissed, sitting up and buttoning his shirt. "I told him not to overdo it..."
"It ain't Chris," Buck interrupted, then his voice deflated, it's edges tinged with sorrow, "It's Vin..."
"Vin!" Nate's head shot up, then he saw the defeat in the other man's blue eyes. "What happened?"
"You're gonna need bandages and just about every trick in the book," Buck said, rising as the other stood, "I think...maybe...he's dying..."
"What!" Nate's eyes searched Buck's face, wincing inwardly at the profound sorrow there. "How?"
"The Upshaw's gotta a hold of him...the night he fled, after the medicine drop. The army cut off his road out...he had to cross their property. They jumped him...been holdin' him prisoner in a shack out there. Bastards tortured him..."
"Shot? Stabbed? Beaten? Whipped? What?" Jackson inquired.
"All of the above, and then some..." Buck sighed, "He's a mess, busted arm, infected wound in his leg, ain't an inch of him that isn't cut or bruised...or burned. They whipped him...hung him...then...the...bas...bast..." His fury built up and he went outside, punching the porch post. He felt Nate move behind him and turned, his eyes burning. "...they buried him alive..."
"Lord God!" Nate swore, feeling his own wrath building.
"Josiah and J.D. caught Yancy. I found Adam with his Pa at Carson's place. Dale got away..."
"Chris know?" Nate asked and saw Buck nod.
"He won't go huntin' without me," the rogue answered the silent question. "Besides, his voice is the only thing Vin can hear. I've seen worse Nate," Buck whispered, "...and they've been dead."
"Okay, I'm gonna need more supplies. Ya been to Chris's...ya know what I need. Josiah's gonna be coming this morning. As soon as he gets here, ya get to town and get a wagon together." Nate paused, mentally making a list and then went back inside. He wrote fast and handed it to Buck. "I'll see to Vin..." It took him about five more minutes to gather his bags. He left Buck instructions to Ben's care and set off.
Something woke him up. His head jerked and he sat up, letting his eyes adjust. The shack was almost too quiet. The sky outside the window was starting to turn to light blue, dawn was rousing. A few desperate crickets continued to sing outside and a scattering of birds were calling. Quiet. It was too quiet. He shook the cobwebs from his head and stared at still form on the floor. That's when he saw it, or rather, didn't see it. The chest wasn't moving.
"Vin!" He bolted from the kitchen table, knocked a chair over and dropped to his knees. His left hand landed hard on Tanner's chest, and opened the slack mouth with his right. He lowered his face and waited for...waited...nothing. Vin wasn't breathing. "Shit!" he knelt up and cupped the marred face with one hand, slapping it as hard as he could with the other. "Godammit, Tanner wake up. Vin! Vin!" he screamed and slapped hard again. Then the body convulsed, a horrid weak gag was born. The Texan's shoulders jerked and the mouth opened, gasping for air. A single blue slit appeared in the eye that did work. Vin's free hand moved feebly trying to push away air. "No!" Chris's heart dropped, "Jesus..." He realized Vin thought he was still buried, he couldn't breathe, because he thought his mouth was full of dirt. "Wake up! You're not in the ground, Vin. Vin!" he slapped the face again and heard a huge sucking sound. Then the chest began to move again. The body sagged against him weakly. "Christ, you scared me..." he mumbled, gripping the back of Tanner's neck. He didn't move for several minutes, content to hold Vin against him, almost afraid to let him go.
Nate stood in the doorway for a few minutes, watching the fear on Chris Larabee's face. He moved quietly into the room, set his bag on the table and moved to the hearth. He winced as the scarlett stripes became visible under's Larabee's hand.
The raspy breaths trickled across his collarbone, where only a few minutes before, there were none. His hand trembled against Vin's neck and for a brief moment, he felt the faint beating of the tracker's heart against his chest. His soft reverie was broken by the appearance of dusty boots .
"Where the hell have you been? What took you so long? He damn near died in my arms!" Chris growled, his lean body shaking with fear and rage.
The tired healer didn't flinch at the trembling gunman's harsh tone. He found a small smile in the hand that still pressed Vin Tanner close. There wasn't many bonds like this one and he knew until the ill one was well, the other would be unsated. He rested a hand on the tense shoulder and bent over.
"Let me have him, Chris. Ya need to get back in bed. I'm gonna need all my strength to take care of Vin. I can't have ya comin' down with a relapse. I told ya, I've seen that happen and it can kill you quick."
"He wasn't breathing," Chris replied distractedly, "I...dozed...off...it...got quiet...his chest stopped..."
Nate knelt down and tried to pry Vin away, only to be met by resistance. Sighing, he decided to let the faraway voice continue.
"I found him outside, got him this far. I couldn't get...the bed...was too..."
"That's okay," Nate interjected, "Ya done good, made a nice soft place for him by the fire. He's fevered, he needs to be kept warm."
"He was filthy, I didn't recognize him at first...I cleaned him up some. I had to pull dirt out of his mouth and nose....shit!" he gripped Vin tighter, "Bastards beat the hell out of him...took a wh...whip..." he swallowed his fury hard, "...used fuckin' cigar..." he raised his pain ed eyed to the deep brown ones. "they buried him alive...just now...that's why he stopped breathin'...he thought he was in the damn hole..."
"Alright," Nate finally got a flicker of recognition in the green eyes. The epiphany was done. "I need to tend to him, Chris." Finally he plied the strong arms away and lowered the unconscious man to the pallet. He took Chris's spot, noticing the legs remained by his side. He pulled the blanket down, letting his eyes do a quick assessment, while his hand sought the pulse. "Damn, it's weak..." Then he unwrapped the bandage on the leg and frowned at the inflamed edges around the seeping wound. His fingers found it hot to the touch. His nose confirmed what he already knew.
"I had to draw it out...with hot compresses and...then I doused it with whiskey." The leader sighed, "I got some of the medicine in his tea...got him to drink it..."
"Good thing ya did," The healer observed, "But this leg's mess. I'm gonna hafta open it up, pull the rest out..." He bent over Vin's face gain, one hand feeling for the fading pulse, the other trying to find the raspy breath. "It's not good..."
"What are you saying?" Chris demanded, more of the defeat in the dark eyes, than the tone of his voice.
"The truth!" Nate stormed, pulling the blanket up. "Whether you like it or not! He's been beaten, cut, whipped, starved and God knows what else for goin' on a week now. How he got here is nothing short on a miracle. He could die, Chris, that's what I'm sayin'. He's only got so much fight in 'im..."
"No!" Chris seethed, "Get that fuckin' bag and do something for him!"
"Now you look!" Nate rose slowly, using the several inches he had over the other man well. "I've spent the better part of the last two weeks savin' all of ya'll from the devil. I ain't seen a bed or had a decent night's sleep. I don't have time for that damn temper of yours. Now, I'm gonna do all I can to help Vin and you're gonna lose that tone of voice. Get your ungrateful ass in that bed, I got not time to be tendin' to you too."
Chris stared long and hard at Jackson and saw what Buck noticed. The circles under this eyes, the shadows on his face that only made his fatigue stand out more. He tore his gaze away long enough to give Vin a hard look, then he staggered to his bed. His legs nearly gave way, but he finally found the mattress. He was asleep before the flaring eyes of the healer pulled away.
Nate spent the next hour tending to his new patient. He got a large cast iron kettle and filled it, keeping it boiling on the stove. He filled both pitchers and a large basin with water. He lined up piles of bandages and also filled a tin mug with willow bark, goldenseal and some sugar. The watery diarrhea had him concerned. If Vin couldn't hold onto the fluids he was getting, all the bandages and carbolic in the county wouldn't save him. He bathed him first, gently washing the many wounds. He rubbed salve onto the horrid burns on the neck and pressed a cold cloth to it, hoping to take some swelling away. He treated the rope burns on the ankles and wrists as well, bandaging them loosely. Tipping Vin's swollen face, he noticed the wound over the eye and at the hairline. He cleaned them with carbolic and then sewed them. He turned him on his side, using a stack of folded blankets to support him. He carefully cleaned every viscious stripe with carbolic and pressed his hand over the horrid purple bruises at the base of Vin's spine. A soft moan confirmed his suspicions. "Sorry Vin..." He squeezed the pale shoulder and continued his ministrations. The ribs on his side were discolored; badly bruised but not broken. He gently moved Vin onto his back and reset the arm. The slack body never moved. Then he got his instruments from the boiling water. He opened the leg, pulled out a mess of muck and doused it good with carbolic. He wrapped a loose bandage around it, allowing the watery residue to drain out. He poured boiling water into the herbed mug and then took a cloth from the basin. He bathed the fevered, talking to him in a strong, soothing voice. He felt Vin trying to pull away from him, his weak body shivering. "I ain't gonna hurt ya, Vin Tanner. Ya listen up, It's Nathan. Settle down now..."
It was a place that knew neither darkness or light. It was a world of shadows and cloaking mists of mystery. Voices came and went, leaving him confused and wary. He was poked and prodded; his aching body pulled in all different directions. He hurt. Lord did he hurt. Every fiber of flesh and muscle screamed in agony. The hard voice was gone and that made his cold. He wanted to hear the shouting again. He trusted it...needed it...it took the cold away. This new voice didn't frighten him. It wasn't a bad voice, it was deep and soothing. The words hovered close to his ear as a coolness bathed his face and neck. An image formed of brown eyes, brown skin and good hands. Strong hands....healing hands. He knew the voice...it had a name.
Suddenly the tension left and the weak body surrendered. The slack form rested against him trustingly. The one eye that could work, opened a crack and studied him. A hand reached out, shaking and weak to touch his face. The pale lips formed his name silently, the voice not able to get past the swollen throat. A smile creased his weary face, when he heard the silent call.
"That's right, Vin, it's me...I got some tea for ya." He pulled Vin up higher, tucking the matted head against his chest. He nudged the mug against the pliant mouth and smiled as the jaw worked. Like an infant, he sucked greedily, nearly spilling it. "Easy now...I ain't gonna take it away. That's it..." Finally the mug was drained and Vin slumped against him. He lowered him back down, pulled the blanket up and went to check on Chris. His hand found the sleeping face cool to the touch and he relaxed. He knew how weak Larabee had been and couldn't imagine the strength it took, or where he'd found it, to drag Vin inside and tend to him. He pulled a quilt over the deep sleeper and left the room. He brought one of the large tins of soup inside from the cold porch and set it on a low heat. A soft cry of pain took him back to Vin's side. His nose told him before he pulled the blanket back. "Damn..." he muttered softly, reaching for a linen cloth.
"...sorry..."
His head turned at the tiny voice. He cleaned up the watery mess and got rid of the towel. "Don't ya worry about it...we got more. Your bowels is a little worked up is all...we'll fix it..." He waited for the blue eye to shut and made more tea. He lifted Vin, nudged his lips and began again. He had a sinking feeling inside, one he hoped was wrong.
It was late morning when Buck arrived in town. He left the rig he'd taken from Josiah at Johnson's, parked outside the livery, near Nate's. He eased off the seat and stretched his aching body. His eyes gazed almost lustfully at the hotel, where a soft bed waited with his name on it. Sighing, he eyed the dusty street, glad to see it full of life again. He spotted a trio of figures near the sheriff's office and aimed his body that way.
"Buck!"
J.D.'s screech brought both Mary and Billy's heads up. The womanizer looked rough. He hadn't shaved and his eyes were swollen from fatigue. Mary smiled as Buck ruffled Billy's fair hair and gave him a wink.
"You look awful!" J.D. teased, recalling the first time he used that line in the Indian village. He got a wane smile and drank it in. He'd missed his best friend and didn't like the defeat he saw in the blue eyes. "How's Chris?"
"Holdin' on...barely..." he sighed, "He found Vin on his porch during the night, took him in, cleaned him up some. He's itchin' to hunt..."
"Billy, why don't you go to Mrs. Potters? I'll see you up there."
"Okay, Ma!" the blond happily ran up the boardwalk.
"How's Vin?" Mary asked, then saw the two men exchange a glance.
"I didn't tell her..." the sheriff replied. "I wired the Judge, he'll be here the day after tomorrow. I sent notice to the other towns in the territory, to be on the lookout for Dale."
"Buck?" Mary tapped his arm and saw the weary head rise. But in his eyes, that washed out defeat had her worried.
"He's bad Mary," Wilmington sighed, taking a few minutes to fill in the gory details. "I sent Nate over, but..."
"You don't think...he'll..."
"Die?" Buck finished the widow's thought. "I don't know, but he's barely holding on. That's the only thing keeping Chris from takin' after Dale. Once he...pulls through or...well...either way, I'm ridin' with him."
"Thank you," Mary issued quietly, resting her hand on Buck's bicep. She knew Wilmington ached for the blond, but at the same time, would protect him. She knew how haunted Chris would be until justice was done. There was no denying the deep bond the two men shared. She could pratically see the rage simmering in his green eyes. "You're exhausted Buck. I'll get Gloria to help me pack the wagon. You get something to eat and get some rest."
"Yeah," Buck sighed, handing over the note from Jackson. "Ezra?"
"I told him," J.D. said, recalling how upset the gambler had been. "He's in the saloon..."
Buck's eyes went through the window, into the jail. He saw the two prisoner's and felt his rage build again. A vision of Dale Upshaws twisted face came into view, cruelly abusing a bound Texan. "Dale Upshaw made the sorriest mistake of his pathetic life..." he vowed, flexing both fists, before heading for the saloon.
"Come on Mary," J.D.'s eyes followed Buck, "I'll give you a hand over at Nathan's."
Buck ducked through the batwing doors and let his eyes roam. He managed to get to the bar and saw Inez lift a beer mug. He shook his head and sighed, taking his hat off and fisting his hands again. He moved again, taking the seat next to Ezra and the mug of coffee the owner offered.
"Are you hungry?," she said softly, resting her small hand on his. "I can make some eggs..."
"Yeah, thanks..." Buck said, squeezing her hand. "We found Vin." He saw the southerner's head lift and he spoke then, slow and haltingly of the horror Vin endured. Ezra went pale, his eyes flickered a deep pain and then he resumed shuffling his cards.
"...and the other villian?" he asked, resting his jade eyes on the rogue.
"Gone," Buck answered Standish. "As soon as Vin...well...Chris is only staying for Vin. Then we're going to head out."
"I shall be only to happy to join you."
"Thanks Ezra," Buck smiled, seeing the pain. "I know Vin would appreciate that, but I think this is one huntin' trip that's best left to me and Chris. You've never seen him like this and it ain't pretty. I know how to handle him."
"Or rather, how to duck?" He teased of the brief glimpses of the boiling rage he'd seen in the past on the gunslinger's face.
"Somethin' like that," the rogue grinned, "Thanks, Darlin'," he nodded as Inez set a large plate of ham, eggs, fried potatoes and biscuits in front of him. He gobbled up half and then looked at Ezra again. "I'll tell you what, with me and Chris gone. Vin's gonna be lonely out there. He's gonna be weak as a kitten. Might do him good if you took one of your books out there...spent some time. He's gonna be worried about Chris."
"Hmm..." Ezra smiled, thinking on how much he enjoyed exchanging banter with the crusty Texan. "Mr. Tanner trapped in that shack, unable to roam freely, under the blue sky." He shuffled the cards again. "Yes, that might require my skill..."
"Now you're talkin'!" Buck chuckled, finished his meal and gulped his coffee. He fumbled in his pocket, looking for a piece of silver.
"It's taken care of," Standish replied, "Now if you'll take your rather unsightly appearance from the lines of my vision, I'd be ever so grateful."
"Hell, Ezra, I didn't know you cared," Buck joked, winked and rose. "That bed is callin'..."
"Alone!" Standish warned and got he smile he angled for. Once Buck left, he let his guard down. His mind went back to the book of poems. The pages where Vin's soul was reflected so eloquentely. He'd read each one several times, finding something new in the words at every reading. He wanted to give something back. He tucked the cards in his vest and headed for his room.
It was late in the afternoon and Nathan heard movement in the bedroom. He stirred the soup, ladled out a full bowl, with a hunk of hot bread and some cheese. He placed it on the table, along with a mug of coffee. He poured another mug, full of soup, and knelt next to Vin. Every time he managed to get tea or broth in the injured man, it came right out. But it was a battle he wouldn't give up on just yet. Twice he was forced to rouse Vin from a nightmare. Like Chris stated, he stopped breathing and began to choke. Now he was on his right side, raised slightly and facing the fire. One blue eye was cracked open. "Hey...how 'bout some soup?" The fever-dampened head shook negatively. "Come on now, Vin, ya ain't gonna get better until ya eat..." Again the head shook. Chris appeared and Nate took in the new man. He was washed, clean shaven and in new clothes. His hair was combed and his eyes were light. He looked much better. "You eat too!" he nodded of the steaming plate on the table.
Chris glanced at the food, the rich aroma causing his empty stomach to rumble. "Not yet..." he sighed, knelt down and watched. He heard Nate's plea and saw Vin twice deny the food. Once more Nate offered and the head shook. He pulled Vin and turned the stubborn face towards his own. "Quit givin' Nate a hard time! Eat the damn soup..." He saw the eye blinking and trying to focus. The lips parted and the tongue worked hard, trying to make a word.
"...hurts..."
"That's cause your throats all torn up. You still gotta eat, Vin." Chris directed in a stern voice. But the head shook and the weak body tried to pull away. "Quit fuckin' around and eat the damn soup!" he bellowed, but the sad blue eye pleaded with him.
"...hurts...riss..."
"Aw, hell," Chris sagged, the lisp imparting of his name coupled with the pained eye nearly did him in. "I'm sorry, Vin, I know your throat hurts but..."
"...not..there..."
Chris closed his eyes and then sagged a bit, before opening them and staring hard at Nathan. The dark head nodded thoughtfully.
"It ain't the goin' in part that's hurtin' him..." the healer said softly, nudging Vin's lips with the mug. Chris held the trackers back against his chest, so Nate could access his mouth. "Everythin' I put in him, goes right through." He sighed "Come on Vin...it's slowin' down some. Could be this will stay put."
"Do it for me, Cowboy?" Chris whispered against the wet, matted brown locks. He felt the shudder and then saw Nate tip the mug. Finally the mug was empty and Nate stood up. "Go on and eat Chris...he's sleepin'..."
Chris gently lowered his best friend back onto the mat. He pulled the blankets up and placed a new cloth on his hot brow. He managed to eat all the food Nate left, not tasting it as much as needed fuel. Nate was mixing more herbs, adding something to quell the diarrhea. Then Vin cried out and both of them froze. Nate dropped to Vin's side and pulled the blanket back. He sagged back relieved.
"It's okay...it stayed down." He moved over to where Vin's face was twisted in pain. "Where's it hurt?"
"...leg...back...on fire..." Vin hissed, free hand flailing. "God..."
The pain came in waves and this was a bad one. He screamed and reached out, something held his hand and held it tight. He panted and gasped, hearing a mixture of voices. Finally a black curtain dropped, ending the anguish.
"Jesus," Chris left the limp hand go and fled on shaking legs. He jerked the door open, seeking escape. He needed air...he needed to breathe...he needed Dale Upshaw's neck in his hands.
"Whoa!"
Chris blinked and looked down to where Mary Travis not sat on his porch. "I'm sorry, Mary, I didn't see you."
"I noticed," she took the hand up and saw the fury flying fast from the green eyes. "I'm sorry, Chris."
That was perhaps the best thing that could be said. His chest heaved and he bit his lip against the rage. He felt her hand on his arm and drew her into an embrace. It felt good to have her near and he released a pent up breath. Finally he pulled free, "Thanks..."
"Anytime, Cowboy!" she teased, but didn't get a smile. "Go take a walk. I'll see to Vin."
She watched him leave, not missing the fact both fists were clenched. He was barely containing himself. Would Buck's presense and voice of reasoning be enough to quell that beast that lurked within the taut frame? She worried about him...worried that if Vin Tanner didn't survive, that no man, not even his oldest friend, would prevent a tragedy. She waited until he was a dark speck and then took the first of the boxes inside. Nathan took over, and she dropped to Vin's side. It was far worse than she'd imagined. She rested a hand against his swollen, discolored, marred face and felt the fever.
"God, what did they do to you?" She whispered, tears springing to her pale eyes. She sat by his side for some time, then heard a squeak. He was lost in a nightmare, moving weakly and moaning. His features were twisted in fear and pain. She brought his head up, resting it against her and used the cloth to wipe his face.
"Shhh!" she soothed, "It's alright, it's a bad dream. You're safe." Not sure of how else to calm the jangled fear, she used the same method that worked for her son. She rocked, hummed, then began to sing. He relaxed and his breathing evened out. She pulled the tangled locks from his eyes and saw an eye bright with fever blinking at her.
The dirt was coming again and he couldn't move. It filled his mouth and nose, preventing air. He panicked, struggling against the inevitable. Then he heard her. A soft voice crooning low and easy. A cold cloth over his hot face and the voice penetrated. His heart quickened in the dark place. She was here...he couldn't believe it...how was she here? Was he dead? It didn't matter. He relaxed and the dirt went away. He could breathe again. He lifted his face, but couldn't see her. Only the foggy, murky void. But he felt her hand, heard her voice and nestled against her breast.
"Mama..."
Chris froze in the doorway. Mary hadn't noticed him and Nathan was asleep on the cot near the door. He watched Mary cradle Vin, caressing the fevered face and singing to him. He saw the fear leave and Vin melt into her arms. Then the small voice, a boy's voice, came out. A lost child who found his mother. He saw the tears running down Mary's face, meeting her sad smile. He moved closer, took out his handkerchief and wiped the pale woman's cheek. He cupped her face, bent and kissed her softly.
"Thank you, Sweet Lady..."
"Living proof that there is a God," the tall man dictated from the porch of the Johnson home. The sky was ablaze in purples, pinks and blues. The clouds were dark purple and gray, making a startling contrast to the colorful heavenly palate. The ex-preacher took the wood inside and piled it next to the warm hearth. He moved to the stove and pulled out a roasting pan with chicken, potatoes and carrots. "Now that is a pretty picture..."
"...bet that chicken don't think so..." Callie sniffed the golden bird as it passed her face. "I reckon she'd rather be back in the coop."
"Is your Pa up?" Josiah smiled at the child's logic and saw the golden head nod.
"Yeah...he's trying to put his shirt on. He sure got skinny..."
"Then we'll make sure he gets extra..."
"Josiah?"
"Yes, child?"
"If somebody dies and...he...they...were good, they go to heaven, right?"
"Sure do, God's waitin' of them with a big hug," he paused over the saucepan, where he was using flour and water in the pan drippings to make gravy. He watched her staring through the room, towards the bedroom. Was she still worried about Ben? He tapped the spoon and squatted down, meeting the solemn blue eyes. "Don't you go worryin' that pretty head of yours, Darlin', your Pa is doin' fine." She nodded absently and turned away. "How about gettin' the tin of tea for me. It's over on the table. We gotta make sure you Pa gets his medicine."
"Okay," she lisped and wandered slowly over to the tin, her mind elsewhere. Her stomach hurt and she was trying hard not to cry. The pain inside made her chest ache and she stifled a cry. She wouldn't cry...she wasn't no baby.
Josiah filled two platters and set them on the table. He found a smile as Ben walked into the room, weak and slow, but on his own. "Well, now that is a fine sight!" he boomed, winking at the infirmed man.
"I feel like I'm ninety, instead of thirty..." Ben whispered, sitting carefully and letting out his breath.
"Callie, supper's on..." The preacher called, noting her standing stock still. His brow furrowed at what could be bothering her. Death was something hard to explain to a six-year old. She'd watched her father nearly choke to death on several occasions. Now that he was better, was she wondering about the 'what if' possibility? "Callie?"
"Come on Sunshine," Ben called out, finding a small smile. "I need a hug..."
Taking a deep breath and swallowing the tremors, she picked the tin up and walked to the table. She handed the tea to Josiah and climbed into her father's lap, hugging him tight. She buried her face in his neck, squeezing the tears back.
"Hey now!" Ben remarked, stroking the golden hair, "That's what I call a hug." Then he frowned at Josiah, when she didn't let go. "Callie? What's wrong?"
"Nuffin'..." she choked, her eyes burning.
"It doesn't feel like nothing." He rocked her and kissed the top of her head. "Talk to me, Sunshine..." He waited and finally felt the vise-like grip on his neck lessen. "How 'bout sayin' grace?"
"I can't 'member the words..." she whispered, snuggling into her father's embrace.
"I think the Lord would rather you use your own words, right from your heart." Sanchez offered with a warm smile. "Just tell him what's inside..."
"Okay..." she took a breath, "Thanks for helpin' Nate and gettin' Pa all fixed up. He's the best Pa in these parts. Anybody who says different, I'll bust 'em real good..." Her face screwed up and both men smiled. "Keep an eye out for Buck, I like him and he took real good care of me. Thanks to the chicken for not mindin' gettin' killed so's we have dinner. Uh...thanks to Josiah for taking care of us. Tell Chris's little boy that I'm lookin' after his Pa. Uh...I'm sorry 'bout the swear words, I'm gonna try real hard to be a little lady, like Vin said..."
The prattling prayer came to a sudden halt. So fast was the end, that both men exchanged a wary glance. They couldn't see her face, she dropped her head and the pale hair fell over it.
"You all finished, Honey?" Josiah prodded and saw the head bobbing. As they ate, Josiah told them about the news from town. Ben was glad to get a wire from his wife. They be back at the end of the following week. While the men's plates were emptied, the little girl's was barely touched.
"You aren't eating," Ben tapped the shoulder. She was curled into his lap, her head resting on his arm.
"I ain't hungry."
"Are you okay?" Ben was concerned now, she was very independent and rarely clung to him like this. He could feel the tiny body trembling in his lap and saw the fear in the large blue eyes.
"I got a pack of frogs jumpin' in my belly..." She lisped, fighting the tears hard.
"You don't get any molasses cookies, if you don't eat dinner." Josiah tried, "Mrs. Potter sent over a whole tin full."
"Can I be excused?"
"Not until you eat more, Sunshine," Ben coached, "You heard Nathan, you need to eat to get stronger."
"There ain't no more room, Pa, honest. Iffen I put more in, I'm gonna throw up..."
"Okay..." He reluctantly agreed, "Is your stomach upset?"
"No." She kissed his cheek and then padded to Josiah, tiptoeing so she could kiss his cheek too. "Thanks for supper..."
"You're welcome, Callie." He ruffled the hair, "I'll warm it up for you, later, if you want."
She nodded and retreated up to the loft. She scrambled to the far corner, behind her mother's large trunk. She curled up on the thick old quilt and felt her throat tighten. The pain in her heart made her belly hurt. It made everything hurt. She rocked and bit her lip, but couldn't deny the tears any longer. They fell in a rush, spilling past the rosy cheeks and onto the blue calico sleeve. She muffled her face against the quilt, so they wouldn't hear. She tried hard all day, during her chores and when Josiah read her a story. But the words wouldn't go away. They stayed in her head and made it hurt too! Bucks words, from early this morning. She heard him talking to Nathan; she saw his sad eyes, when he said that Vin was dying. Vin was dying...he was going to heaven. He was leaving her for the other Callie. Her Vin was dying. She rocked and wept, until sleep overtook her shuddering form.
It was late when Buck arrived at Chris's cabin. The first thing he noticed, was that the injured man was missing. The fire was strong and he walked over, warming his cold extremities. He heard a voice and moved to the doorway, watching Chris bending over the bed.
"Come on, Vin, it's almost empty..." Chris directed, holding the fevered man upright and tipping a cup towards his lips. The head turned away, the brows furrowed and the mouth made a line. "Dammit Vin! You gotta drink this, now open up!"
"Don't force him, Chris," Buck tried, realizing that maybe Chris was too close to see. "He might toss it back up."
"Nate and me moved him before he took Mary back," He eased the slight form back onto the bed and placed the nearly empty cup of water on the bedstand. "Get me that bottle of rubbing alchohol?" He asked and saw the dark head disappear.
"I got it," Buck answered, "You look beat. How's he doing?"
"He isn't," Chris's shoulders dropped. He ran a hand through his hair and then rubbed his tired eyes.
"He'll come around, Chris," Buck tried, pulling the blanket back and wringing out the cloth. He wiped the flushed face, neck and chest, wary of the bruises and cuts. "He's been through Hell this week, I reckon he's got reason to be onry."
"He's dying, Buck, I got eyes..." Chris grunted, taking his pent up frustrations from the room.
Buck sighed and continued his work. He checked the bandages, changed two and saw Vin's lips moving. One blue slit appeared, then scowled at him. "Hey Slick!" He boomed, lifting the younger man's body forward and picking up a cup of water. "Here you go, I'm buying..." He felt the body stiffen and try to pull away. The eye was wide with fear, darting around the room. He was looking for Chris. Buck maintained his stance, leveling a hard stare. "It's Buck, Vin, I ain't gonna let anyone hurt you."
The desert spread in every direction, the sun burning his flesh. He stumbled on for miles, not knowing where he was headed and not caring. His leaden legs gave out and he dropped. He heard Chris's voice and felt him near. He drank for Chris, and felt stronger, able to go on. But now Chris was gone. He struggled to move, the sand was choking him, burning him and holding him down. He was so thirsty, his throat was on fire. Someone was near...someone was talking gently. Someone...he...knew...the voice had a face. A mustache and a wide smile, kind eyes...
"...B...B...uck..lin..."
"Yeah," the big man sighed, his heart warming to the nickname Vin used. He felt the muscles beneath his strong arms melt and the pale lips open for him. He tipped the cup and got the whole thing into the ill man. He watched the eye studying him and then the fear returned.
A myriad of images swirled in his head. People lying dead of a horrid disease. Choking on their own mucus. Some of their faces were familiar...dead unseeing eyes of his friends. Their voices haunted him, accusing him, invisible bony fingers poked at his chest. It was his fault...he'd done this..He turned away from them, and heard Buck again. Buck wasn't dead...Buck had to leave before he killed him too.
"...go...'way...hurt...ya...please..."
"What?" Buck puzzled, feeling Vin's heart pounding against his hand on his back. "Vin, you didn't hurt anybody. Hell, it would be a sad day when a Tanner took out a Wilmington," he teased, but the eye was frantic now. The feeble body pulling away. "Calm down!" Buck ordered, lowering Vin on the bed and taking his chin. "I'm fine, Vin..."
"...no...kilt 'em...m'fault...Oh God..."
"Jesus!" Buck hissed, knowing the futility of fighting a weak man lost in delirium. "Vin! Listen to me, you didn't hurt anyone. Nobody died...we're all fine. Vin? Vin?" He tapped the slack jaw, but the eye was closed now, the ragged breathing seemed even weaker. "Shit!"
"What's wrong?" Chris demanded, slamming the front door. He'd gone outside to get more water and heard Buck swearing.
"Bad dream," he replied, "I got a full cup of water in him, anyhow...I think he'll sleep awhile. Come on," he moved past Chris, "I need a drink..." He felt the blond stiffen and saw the clenched fists. Chris Larabee hated to see anyone he cared about suffer. His frustration was doubled, due to the fact he couldn't control Vin's fate. Nathan had done all that he could; the rest was up to Vin and God. "Come on..." he rested a hand on the tense shoulder and heard the sharp exhale.
"In a minute..." Chris pulled away, walking to the bed. He stared at the battered body of his best friend. Every bruise on the swollen face seemed to scream at him. Nathan's guarded eyes came back at him, along with the warning about Vin's state. Reluctantly, he tore his eyes from the discolored flesh and gazed at what was too hard to see. The blanket barely rising over the marred chest. His eyes burned from staring at that slight movment, afraid of what would happen when it failed to rise. He rested a hand on Vin's brow and frowned at the heat still rising. How much was he expected to bear? He'd been tortured far beyond what most men could endure. He'd survived being buried alive. What more could be asked? He gripped both hands into fists and raised his hot eyes to the ceiling. "Why?" He demanded, swallowing his pain, before seeking courage in a bottle.
Buck slid the glass across the table, but Chris rejected it, taking the bottle instead. He took a long chug, too long, and Buck sighed. It was going to be a long night. He watched the green eyes narrow, reading the label and smacking his tongue on his lip.
"What the fuck is this?" the blond inquired, watching the rogue raise an eyebrow and smile
"It's good fuckin' shit..." Wilmington crowed, taking his shot and Chris's as well, "Your virgin lips ain't used to such finery. It's not usually wasted on uh...uh..." his mind worked, thinking of the phrase the southerner used, "...plebians like us..."
"Ezra's?" Chris grinned, eyeing the expensive label.
"All the way from Scotland...or so he claims." Buck noted of the imported blend. "Sure does go down easy..."
"He know you took it?"
"Well now, I figure I'm doin' Ez a favor. I mean, it was just sittin' there in his room, lookin' lonely and cryin' out to be saved."
"...and you bein' the generous soul, liberated it?" Chris grinned, "As long as I don't end up with an ass full of buckshot."
"Buckshot?" Buck poured another shot and then grinned. "Hell, Chris, that wasn't my fault."
"No, it was your buddy Jim Beam," he groused of the famous Kentucky bourbon.
"Well, he did help..." The rogue chuckled, sipped and laughed. "Hell, how was I supposed to know they plied that pie with bourbon." He recalled of the two vixens they met close to ten years before outside Louisville. The devilish beauties offered more than just sweet potatoe pie. Neither recalled much of the night that ensued. But being chased from a barn, half-naked, with an irate father firing a gun...that does leave an impression.
"If I didn't know better, I'd swear you gave them the idea..." Chris took another hit, "I wonder if Hector Bastilio's still alive?"
"Jesus," Buck chortled, "what made you think of him?"
"...ass full of buckshot..." Chris grinned.
"Lucky for me, he was nearsighted," Buck winced, recalling the close call. "The poor bastard was a walking disaster. How he managed to stay alive for the whole war, is nothing short of a miracle."
"Not for the poor bastards who served with him," The blond imparted with a smile, taking a another swig. "Remember Todd Harrison?"
Buck laughed and smacked the table, a vision of the poor private made an appearance. "Jesus, every time Hector got near that kid, he broke something. Two arms, a leg..."
"...fingers, toes..." Chris grinned, "that man was a born jinx..." he noted of Bastilio. "Hell, half the casualities we had the winter of sixty-three were due to him...shit blowing up, guns backfiring..."
"Yeah..." Buck sighed, "...Sixty-three...remember Christmas Eve? What was the name of that kid who had the great voice?"
"McBride..." Chris supplied, recalling the youngster from Ireland with the golden voice. For a few hours, they'd rested at an abandoned farm and left the war behind. They lit a fire, gave thanks to the Lord for keeping them alive and then the boy sang. By the time he was finished, there wasn't a dry eye in the barn. "Kid had a helluva voice..."
The night wore on and they basked in the warmth of memories only old friends can conjure up. Of lost loves and bloody battles; of lust and love; of births and deaths and of those intangible elements that bound them. For a few hours, Chris's pain dissolved and he grinned and laughed and embraced the gift that Buck offered. Finally , the dark head rested on folded arms at the table. Chris corked the bottle, stowing the rest for another night. He stoked the fire and picked up a blanket, carefully placing it around the slumbering man. He left his hand on the broad shoulder, his eyes burning. "How is...it...you're...always...here?" His voice, full of anguish and admiration, questioned of the tall man's fate. Good, bad, happy, sad, up and down, Buck had been by his side. Once again, death hovered nearby and once again, it was Buck who was standing by him. He gave a shuddering breath and squeezed the noble shoulder once, taking his eyes upwards and thanking the man upstairs for the gift the wore Wilmington clothes.
Nate jumped from the wagon, the morning sun already high in the sky. He took a large box from the wagon and carried it inside. Josiah was reading his Bible, Ben was writing a letter to his wife and both looked up when he entered the room. He placed the bag down and rubbed his eyes.
"Mornin' Brother," Josiah stood and stretched, "Coffee?"
"No thanks, I ain't got time, I gotta get to Chris's." He moved over to his patient and tapped his shoulder. "Come on Ben, I want to get a look at ya, before I head out..."
Callie tugged her boots on, pulled on her coat and eyed the three adults. She knew Josiah would be leaving today. She heard him and Pa talking. Pa said he was fine and wanted Josiah to go back to town. Josiah said Nate would decide. So she waited...and listened, hoping her plan would work.
"Are ya sure?" Nate asked, snapping his bag shut. "Ya ain't so steady yet. That little girl of yours is a handful."
"I'll be okay, Nate. Callie's changed, this whole thing made her grow up some. Josiah's needed in town. You've already spent too much time out here..."
"It was worth it," Nate replied with a grin. "Ya finish all that medicine I left. Ya take that tea every four hours or so. Did you have any today?"
"No..."
"I'll get ya some," he noted, "Ya rest in this bed, don't overdo it, ya get a relapse and it will kill ya..." he warned, "I'll be back this afternoon to check on ya..."
"Okay, thanks Nate" he said, then tugged the sleeve, "How is he?" He said of Vin Tanner. He saw the profound sadness in the healer's brown eyes and his heart sank. "That bad?"
"...I'm afraid so..."
"I'm sorry...God, that's awful..."
"Yeah, it is," Nate left his charge and went to fill the kettle. He told Josiah to go and updated him. Once the minister was gone, he mixed the tea and saw Callie lingering. "Ya gotta be a big girl. I'm goin' over to Chris's place, but I'm comin' back later. In the meantime, ya keep an eye on your Pa."
"Yes Sir..." She vowed, sliding the drawing she made under her father's plate on the table. She watched Nathan pour the boiling water and take it to her father. She scrambled up to the loft and waited.
"Callie!" Nate called out, eyeing the empty room. "I'm leavin' now..."
"...bye..." she hollered down. "I'm gettin' a book..." She waited for the door to slam and scrambled to the window, climbing down and running behind the wagon. Her head popped up, looking for Nate, who was still at the well. She easily made her way into the back, hiding under a blanket. The wagon moved out and she sighed, one step closer to her goal.
Buck frowned and eyed the road, waiting for outline of the wagon to get closer. The pain from the hangover was nothing compared to the pain inside. Vin's breathing was almost non-existant and both men feared the worst. Chris was at the tracker's side, sitting on the bed. He hadn't spoken a word in two hours; he didn't have to, his eyes spoke volumes. Finally, he spotted Nate and waved frantically.
"Buck?" Jackson asked, jumping down. The other man shook his head and moved aside. Nate ran through the room and moved to the bed. "Chris, let me examine him." He asked, but the blond didn't move.
"His fever broke about dawn," Larabee said flatly, "We thought...maybe..." his hollow voice was painful to hear, and Nate flinched. "...but he's...not...he's...dying..." There, he said it, and it hurt like hell.
"Get me some fresh water?" Nate asked, and saw the blond reluctantly leave his friend's side. "Hey Vin..." he bent down and brushed the damp, dark tendrils of hair away, exposing a face that despite the bruising, look all too young. "I don't know if ya can hear me, but ya know this, I'm proud to call ya friend..." He gave the pale shoulder a squeeze and examined the abrasions, burns and wounds. The breath was shallow and slow, the chest barely moving. He hung his head, rubbed the tears from his eyes and went into the other room.
Callie poked her head up over the window sill and climbed inside. She tiptoed to the bed and got up, wiggling over to where Vin was sleeping. She furrowed her face; the bruises on his skin made her belly hurt. She tapped his cheek, but he didn't wake up.
"Vin...Vin..wake up..." she tried, then kissed the bruises. "I made it all better...Vin? Vin? Look, I made ya a star. " She held up the crooked, yellow creation, made from her mother's tablecloth, proudly, but he didn't wake up. "Ya ain't even lookin' at it...it's better than hers." she demanded, sitting on his chest and frowning. She leaned way over, pressing her face close to his, and peeled his eye open. "Are ya in there? Vin? Vin? Get up..." she left the lid go, and he continued to ignore her. Frustrated, she got an idea. She put the star in her teeth and peeled both eyes open, so he could see her star...his star...but as soon as she left go, he went back to sleep. Now she was mad...and her eyes got hot. "She can't have ya...I won't let her...yer my Vin not hers...Do you hear me?" she screeched, "I won't let ya go to heaven to be with the other Callie...I need ya...here..." she pleaded, tears spilling from her eyes. She bent over again, pressing her face against his and into his neck. "I love ya...Vin...don't go to heaven...please...." she sobbed.
"Chris, it's time..." Nate rested a hand on the blond's downcast shoulder. "I don't think it will be long..." He took a deep breath, saw Buck bite his lip and gave Larabees' shoulder a squeeze. "I'm sorry..."
"Yeah," Chris nodded, swallowed hard, accepted the hand Buck offered, and went to say goodbye to his best friend. He froze in the doorway, then strode over to the bed, where tiny child was clinging to his dying friend. "Where the hell did you come from?" he demanded, reaching down to lift her away.
"Noooooooooo!" she screeched in a voice that only a small, angry child can produce. The decibel of which can cut through any adult like a saber. Chris's whole body stiffened in pain, as the earsplitting scream penetrated his skull. Her tiny foot shot out and caught him in a rather delicate area.
"...the hell's goin' on..." Buck skidded to a halt, spotting Chris's mottled face and area of pain. "Callie, get offa Vin...Callie..."
"No!" she screamed, twisting away and catching the large man in the eye with a sharp elbow.
"Buck!" Chris hissed painfully, his voice stunned.
"I'm okay," Wilmington relplied, rubbing his eye.
"No...no..." He gasped, still recovering from his 'injury'. He pointed to the bed and heard the rogue gasp in shock. Under the veil of golden hair, splayed by the small imp, were two blue eyes looking right at them. Under the tired eyes, was a weak Tanner smile.
It had been a strange place, like floating in the night sky. Dark and cold, the silence both comforting and frightning at the same time. He could see and feel, despite the fact he was somehow not connectd to his body. The voices drifted by, the pain contained within them, pierced him like shards of glass. Then a soft voice, a small voice, an angel's voice interrupted his disjointed reverie. The broken-hearted plea filled his entire being. He felt warm in the odd abyss; the fluttering of featherlight kisses on his face stole his breath. He relaxed and tried to find the angel, then his silent repose was interrupted by a shrill shriek. At a dizzying pace, he was quickly plummeted through the dark pool, crashing back into reality. The sight that met his eyes, was one that he'd not soon forget. Two of his closest friends, men who were feared and whose swagger would buckle the knees of most, were manhandled by a tiny, heart-stealing bandit. One look at Chris's face and body language, coupled with Buck's eye, gave the would-be Lazarus a brilliant warm smile. The explosion of the life force within spilled through his lips, causing both men by the bed to furrow their brows.
"What the hell was that?" Buck stammered of the strange, choked, raspy, wheezing expulsion fromTanner's lips. "That's the sorriest, sad-assed laugh I've ever heard. That's downright embarrassin' Vin!" He eyed Callie snuggling contented against her hero, her blond head tucked under his chin. Her gloat was as bright as the locks on her head. "Oh, I get it...you think that's funny? That that pint-sized hellion got the best of us?" He grinned as the shaggy head nodded once. Then he saw the smile fade as the weary blue eyes met the somber green ones. Chris had yet to say a word since Vin woke up. Buck sensed his oldest friend might need some privacy.
"I knew ya wasn't goin' go to heaven and leave me Vin. Did ya like my star? Ain't it as good as hers?" She held up the prize and spoke of the angel in the story Vin told her, and saw his head dip once. "Good, I tried real hard...when Buck said ya was goin' to Heaven, it made my insides hurt...I couldn't hardly breathe." She saw a tear slip out of his good eye and used her yellow star to wipe it. "Aw, hell you're cryin'..."
"Callie!" Buck admonished, "Uh...how 'bout we go find Nathan?" He prompted, swatting the tiny rump, "...and then we get you back to your Pa. I'm guessin' he's about worried sick by now."
"I left a note," she answered crossly, "...sorta...."she snuggled closer to the injured man, tucking the star carefully over his bandaged chest. "'sides, I like it right here. I'm keepin' Vin's heart all warmed up..."
"Sort of?" Buck quizzed, lifting one tiny leg from the bed.
"Yeah...I drew pictures...I left it right out...he was sleeping. I figured I'd get back before he woke up..."
"You figured wrong," Buck tugged and saw the scream coming. "I bet Vin's worried about your Pa now...him being so sick and alone at the cabin. He was counting on you to take care of him. You promised, remember?" He saw the blond head flip back and then the face flush when Tanner nodded weakly.
"Well..." she wrinkled her nose and pouted. Reluctantly, she bent over and kissed the stubbled cheek. "Ya ain't mad are ya?" She saw him nod and hung her head. "I'm sorry, Vin...I was afraid y'ed be leavin' for Heaven and I didn't want her to have ya. Ya ain't her Vin, you're mine..." She sniffed and glanced down at the bruised face. "If I go back and tell Pa I'm sorry...will ya still be mad?" She cocked her head and saw him smile and shake his head. "Will I be your best girl again?" She felt the fingers of his good hand brush against her cheek and the head nod again. "Good!" She beamed and zipped off the bed.
"See where Nate got to," Buck advised and the small body skipped from the room. "You want a drink?" he asked the injured man and saw one eyebrow lift mischievously. "I meant water..." he quipped, moving to the other side of the bed. "Chris, see if...Chris...Chris..." he waved his hand in front of the silent spector, who flinched as if slapped.
It was if he was watching the scene from outside a thick pane of unpenetrable glass. His legs seemed to have sprung roots, extending through the floorboards and anchoring him to the spot. His tongue was sewn to his gums, his eyes as cold as glass. In the briefest span of time, Vin's life had been snatched back from the cold fingers of a nameless phantom. The chest was rising and falling in a steady rhythm, the face wasn't quite so pale and the eyes, and all that mystery behind them, were sparking with life. He saw motion and noticed Buck staring at him hard.
"Huh?" he managed, getting a chortle from the rogue.
"You sound like J.D.!" Wilmington teased. "Water...he's thirsty. I'll lift, you get the mug. It's right there." He paused, the blond still remained glued in place, his eyes penetranting the bemused sky eyes on the bed. "Chris!"
"Yeah," he moved, flexing his fingers to get the quivers settled down to a managable tremble. He filled the speckled tin mug and moved to the bed, sitting on the edge. He bit his own lip slightly, his wavering hand took the mug to the swollen tracker's lips. The jaw worked too quickly, prompting him to pull the cup away. "Slow down! You're gonna hurl all over my bed." He glared annoyed at the crinkles in the corners of Tanner's eyes, which were sassing him. "You got no manners," he steadied the cup and the light eyes scrutinized him over the rim. He'd never admit it, but it felt good, damn good, too damn good.
The water was so cool, so absolutely wonderful,it was as if it were spun from the grapes of the gods. It left him giddy and punch-drunk; so much so that he saw the color blue fall in front of him and felt his mouth drowning in naked delight. Amidst his rapture, he saw through the green gaze so close and felt the icy fear that lurked behind them. What those penetrating eyes didn't reveal, the slight tremble in the strong hands did. It was a feeling so deep and profound, it took his breath away. The cup was pulled back and the urge rose. An urgent need to speak that which was causing his heart to nearly explode. He raised a hand and touched Chris Larabee's jaw, he open his lips and tried to get the words out.
"Slow down Vin, I can't hear you," Larabee teased, seeing the lips moving over the trembling chin. He felt Vin's hand tremble on his jaw, slide to his neck and thump against his chest. Those cerulean eyes were bursting with need and the wispy breath picked up, increasing to a steady pant. It came out in short bursts, then the lips moved again and a loud belch came out. "Well, that was worth waiting for..." The blond's lip quirked and his eyes softened. Buck wasn't so polite and laughed outright.
"Spoken like a true Tanner!" the womanizer boasted, cupping the blushing, chagrined Texan's chin. He kept that smile and studied the emotive face. The light eyes stared at him hard, the depths of which were hard to deny. "You plannin' on stayin' for awhile?" He asked, not hiding his feelings. Vin's mouth opened and the tongue slipped out, licking the upper lip. The jaw moved, but no words were spoken. The eyes continued to penetrate and then the head rose up once and came back down, followed by a crooked grin. "Good," Buck whispered, his handsome face split by a winning Wilmington smile. He gave the chin a gentle tug and then winked. "I'll get Nathan and take Callie home."
Vin tried to look past Chris' broad chest, just as a short series of painful coughs emerged. The force and fury left his weak body numb and shaking in agony. He flopped against the dark green shirt, breathless and teary-eyed from pain. The voice was behind him, the guiding tone one he'd gotten so used to, he took it for granted. It engulfed him, embodied him and fed him life.
"Easy..." Chris waited until the heaving breaths slowed up. "You keep that water down?" he asked and heard an annoyed hiss. He smiled and pulled the pillows up higher, before placing Vin back onto them. He pulled the quilt up and then took a minute to study the confused face. "You're a mess, Tanner." He waited, watching the eyes roam around the room. "Dale Upshaw and some of his men got a hold of you over a week ago. They kept you prisoner and beat the hell out of you..." he paused and saw the flicker of recognition and the flash of molten fury. One weak fist balled up, striking the mattresss. "You got away," he skipped the gruesome details, "and got back here..."
"...home..." Vin managed in a scratchy whisper, vaguely remembering riding Larabee's horse.
"Yeah," Chris agreed, watching the eyes blinking hard. "You got a lot of healing to do. Busted arm, bad infection in your leg, cracked ribs, cuts, bruises, burns, " he paused as the bandaged wrist made his way up to the bandage on his neck.
Vin saw the tiger's glint in Larabee's eyes and it frightened him. His fingers felt the rough bandage over the razors that seemed to be cutting the tender flesh of his throat with every swallow. His back was on fire, the pain engulfing him with every move. "...finish..." He demanded, narrowing his tired eyes over the wall of agony.
"They hung you, whipped you and..." He bit his lip, left the bed and stalked to the window, gazing out into the noonday light. Before Chris could finish, find the words to tell Vin he'd been thrown in a hole and covered with dirt, ate the dirt, breathed it in...a sharp hiss made him turn back. He didn't have to finish. The prisoner's horrified face and the staggered breathing told him it wasn't necessary.
"...fuck..." Vin choked, his wide eye darting over the quilt. The calico disappeared, the bed became a burial plot and he was breathing in dirt. It rained on his face and he could see Dale Upshaw's leer through the soil. "...he...they...put...me...in...a...a...ho...le...Chris..." He lost his air as the horror took revisited. It gripped him until he was pulled free, blinking into twin green pools of furious rage.
"He's a walking dead man, Vin," Chris vowed, "Adam and Yancy are already in jail..."
"...Yancy..." the Texan spat, recalling the abuse. "...starved me...used that fuckin' cigar...fed...me bad meat...made me grovel on the floor...like a pig...spit in it...shit..."
"That explains alot," Nathan moved to the bed, just as the hatred exploded from the wrath of Larabee. "Welcome back..."
"...trip...I couldda skipped..." Vin tossed back, letting Nathan lift him and accepting the warm, medicinal tea. He coughed again, gripping the dark healer's arm as the pain washed over him. "...hell..."
"Ya got fluid in there," the ex-medic noted of the patient's lungs. "Ya gotta keep coughin' it out. I don't want ya gettin'pneumonia. I got some broth for ya...I'll heat it up." He eased the younger man back onto the bank of pillows. "It won't be easy, and it's gonna take a while, but ya got your grit back." He winked, "...and that's half the fight," he patted the good leg and saw the worry lines forming as the sky eyes lingered on the tense gunslinger's back. "I don't gotta tell ya, what's he's been through...Give him some time, Vin..." He pulled the blanket up and left the room.
Vin waited and frowned, the back remained hostile and threads on the shirt threatened to bust open. "Ya...okay...Cowboy?"
Chris's wall of rage melted, when the raspy, sandpaperish voice cut through his haze. He turned slowly, took a deep breath and walked to his dresser. He picked up two items and then went back to the bed, sitting on the chair next to the injured man.
"I...thought...ya was dead..." Vin recalled.
"That makes two of us," Chris met the twin look of hollowed horror and smiled grimly. "I got something for you." He popped the front of the object open and placed it in the sharpshooter's open palm. The sight of the eyes snapping open and the look of pure wonder and bliss was one he'd keep for a long time.
"How..." Vin gasped, lifting the watch and painfully recalling his grandfather's strong face. "It's all..cleaned up...it's..." His mouth dropped open in stunned amazement. There was his grandfather's name, his name, staring back at him. He swallowed hard and saw the second hand sweeping around. "...fixed..." he grinned and let his eyes drink in every inch of the timepiece. "...looks...prettier...than....Bucklin's best filly..."
"Thanks," Chris's nose wrinkled, "I think," he grinned. "I used to fiddle around with watches and mechanical stuff when I was younger." He answered the silent question.
"...hangin' up yer colts..." Vin teased, caressing his watch.
"No," Larabee said solemnly, catching the grateful eyes, "I only tinker for family."
"Thanks, Cowboy," Vin managed, his already swollen throat nearly doubling.
"You can't have the letter back," the blond pulled out a small, brown leather valise. It was worn by time and care, every inch broken in by loving hands. "It...I...needed it...Vin...as much as that quinine..." He paused and took a steadying breath, raising his eyes to meet his best friend's. He slowly opened the leather folds, revealing three yellowed letters. "You see..." He swallowed hard, his eyes caressing the paper, written in a woman's hand. "Sarah loved to write poems and letters. From the time I met her, she scrawl something and hide them. It might be a poem she read and liked, some words of her own, a memory, something we shared." He smiled, recalling her captivating kisses, "She tuck them away in my saddlebags, clothes, anywhere she could hide them. I kept them all..." He felt the tears stinging his eyes. "...in a box...I lost it...that night..."
"I'm sorry, Chris," Vin offered sincerely, "I didn't mean upset ya."
"...s'okay Vin," he hushed, tucking the poet's letter in with the other three. "The first night after Buck and I rode out, we were camped out and he was asleep. I found these...she hid them in my bedroll. They're all I have left of her..." He choked, forced out a harsh breath and felt the angry tears disappear. "...I treasure them, Vin...I'm keeping your letter...with hers..." He folded the leather pouch and held it almost in prayer. "I never...told...anyone...before..."
"...it stays here..." Vin pledged. "I'm honored, Chris..." he said of the home for his letter. "I wish I could have known her..."
"Me too," the blond replied, finding a small smile. "She would have spoiled the hell out of you..." he chuckled, "She had a wicked sense of humor...she'd have had you blushin' like a virgin..." They both laughed then, the release long overdue. Chris gripped the back of Vin's neck and gave a good tug. A motion that spoke volumes and filled the younger man with a surge of energy. The moment was broken when Nathan arrived, bearing a plate.
"I'll do it," Larabee offered, taking the large soup mug from the other. Vin watched the slight tremble of the hand on the mug and allowed a guilty pleasure to spread through his healing body. How long had it been, that someone had cared this much? His lips parted as the wavering spoon found it's true path.
"What?" Chris frowned, watching the wistful eyes trained on him ."Too hot?" He asked, eyeing the dish. The head shook negatively. "Cold?" The soft laugh gave him a smile of his own.
"No, it's just right," Vin managed, swallowing hard and smiling again, enjoying the flood of emotions. The bowl was drained in silence, each embracing the stolen moments of solitude. The blue eyes grew heavy and Chris pulled the blanket up.
"...m'okay..." Vin yawned, "...don't need ya hoverin'...I ain't a damn corpse...get...goin'..." But the body lingered, resting in the chair, long legs crossed at the ankles. Vin blinked hard, fighting the inevitable. "I'm fine..."
"I know," Chris answered, as the eyes finally closed. He tucked the yellow cloth star over the valient heart and spotted the tip of silver showing through Vin's palm, where the watch was hidden. And he stayed, guarding the sacred trust, long after the tracker fell into a deep sleep.
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