Setting: OW
"Spit it out, Vin, before you choke on it," Buck suggested, having spent the last half-hour watching the changing emotions on the tracker's face. Vin sat forward a bit, roused from his semi-doze on the taller man. This gave Buck an opportunity to flex his shoulder, the dozing Tanner had been dead weight.
"...been thinkin'..." Vin sighed, too weary to raise his voice.
"Didn't hurt yourself, did you?" Buck teased and saw the tracker's eyes crinkle and a small grin appear.
"I need a favor..."
"Shoot." Buck replied, wondering where this train of thought was going.
"Once I get m'legs back and some wind in m'lungs, I aim to find that Fucker what set me up..."
"...and?" Buck frowned, trying to read past the creases in the Texan's brow.
"Might be a few days 'til I'm up and about... If ya could check around..." Vin paused, sighing.
"Get it out, Vin..."
"I hate askin' ya, but if ya could use that badge," Vin rasped, sneaking a sideways glance at Buck. "and find out where he slithered off. Well, it'd sure be a help, before ya headed back."
Buck reined the horse in and steadied the wobbly tracker, before blowing an air of exasperation from his lungs. He took a long swig of the canteen, before handing it over to the puzzled Tanner.
"After all this," Buck growled, "...all the shit we've been through. What the fuck kind of friend do you think I am? I ain't riding back until that bastard is dead or behind bars. Are we clear on that? Of all the stupid, fuckin' ideas... that you could think I'd leave you? Jesus, Vin..."
Vin flinched at the harsh tones and felt the rippling rage in Buck's chest. As much as every inch of him ached and his head felt like it weighed a hundred pounds, he didn't lean back. He forced himself to stay upright, clinging to the saddlehorn. He didn't mean it the way Buck took it, Buck had done so much already... Although his spirit was willing , his body wasn't able. Try as he might, the pain in his shoulder and back became unbearable, in the stiff position he held himself in. As if sensing it, a hand snaked around his waist and pulled him back.
"Damn but you're stubborn," Buck hissed, "Makes is easier on both of us if you just relax and lean on me. Pretty good reason to have these broad shoulders. Man ought to know when to take a hand..."
"It come out all ass backwards..." Vin whispered, gasping as a wave of pain rolled over his back. It did take away the pressure and those shoulders were broad enough to help a friend. "Ya done s'much already, Bucklin..." he hesistated, lifting his head and waiting.
"Go on..." Buck egged, grinning at the struggling apology.
"Goddamn arrogant jackass," Vin grumbled and was rewarded by a burst of Wilmington laughter. "Yer enjoyin' me squirmin'... pickin' on an invalid... ya ought to be ashamed."
"I'm waiting," Buck goaded, shifting his arm so Vin's head would be more comfortable. He shoved the floppy hat he'd picked up in Langston further down on the smelly, mangled head.
"Cut that out," Vin protested and hissed and he overshifted and pulled against his shoulder wound.
"I'm okay," he managed, feeling Buck tense up behind him. "Hey Buck," he whispered, feeling the heavy effect of the sun and his fever. The half-lidded eyes turned sideways and met the dark blue ones, "...been thinkin..."
"It's gonna snow for sure," Buck chuckled, watching the weary body with a cautious eye.
"Reckon that dragon ain't got a snowball's chance in hell o'bestin' two knights..."
"Now you're talking!" Buck boomed, causing the body in front of him to jerk.
"Thing about a team of knights, is that there's the good-looking, studlike vision that sends all the maidens into a pile of swooning, quivering flesh..."
"Yup," Vin slurred, his head flopping on Buck's shoulder, "and then there's y'all."
"Smartass!" Buck laughed, slowing the horse's pace, so his fevered friend could rest more comfortably.
"Chris, we're heading for the saloon to get some supper, you coming?" J.D. asked, standing between Colt and Nathan.
"Maybe later," the leader replied, heading in the opposite direction. He walked for some time; the meeting with the man responsible for Vin's suffering and untimely death was unsettling. It had been a long time since he was consumed with the inferno of anger he felt on Hazzard's porch. It was such a shitty tradeoff, someone with the integrity of Vin Tanner and that spineless spitball hiding behind a judge's robe. The whole mess had his stomach churning all day. It fueled the ache in him; he'd missed Vin today more than ever.
Blue Meadow was a small town and he felt every eye on him as he strode silently along the boardwalk. He paused outside a large window, it's gold lettering announcing it was the 'finest merchandile in all of Texas'. He peered through the glass and then stepped up to the door.
By the time Buck rode down the main street, it was almost sundown. Vin was sound asleep, his wet head was lolling against Buck's shoulder. The rider let his eyes wander down the deserted street. He spotted the hotel, saloon, sheriff's office and other stores. Then he found the one business he sought and trotted over. He used his shoulder to gently nudge the slumbering sharpshooter.
"Vin, you with me?"
"Huh?"
Buck cringed at Vin's sleepy eyes, croaking voice and especially the awful smell. "You're ripe, Slick. You gotta get cleaned up, then we'll get you a nice soft bed."
"Huh?" Vin repeated, eyed blinking and body swaying.
"You awake?" Buck got down and eased his younger friend off the horse. He led Vin inside and tossed a coin at the attendant. He sat Vin on a bench and began to unbutton his shirt. Twice the stuperous body fell forward. "Vin, how's your back?" he asked, eyeing the horrid purple bruises. He discarded the soiled clothing and stood the groggy tracker up. His hand only confirmed what his eyes knew, Vin was riddled with fever. He wrinkled his nose at the amount of horse manure that Vin managed to get all over him. "Vin, you with me?" He tapped the flushed face.
"Huh?"
"Damn..." Buck chuckled and led him to the tub. "Keep that arm up," he ordered, "Let me do all the work."
"...wanna go..." Vin mumbled, trying to get up.
"No can do," Buck gently pushed him back, "You'd get arrested for showing off that pretty body of yours."
"...m'tired..." Vin sighed, "...all done?" He forced his eyes open and tried to focus. "...ain't feelin' s'good, Bucklin."
"Yeah, I know, Vin." Buck paused and lifted a mug of rinse water. He hurried as best he could, washing the matted hair and soiled body. He got Vin out of the tub and wrapped him in a large towel. "Listen up, I'm gonna go get you some clothes. You stay put..." He tossed another coin to the attendant and pointed. "Keep an eye on him, I'll be right back. Where can I get him some clothes?"
"Lonnie's Dry Goods, right next store."
True to his word, Buck returned about five minutes later. Vin was still snoozing on the bench. He never roused as Buck got the socks, pants and boots on. But once the carbolic hit his wound, his eyes shot open and his left fist shot out. "Hey now!" Buck caught the fist, "I'm on your side, remember?"
"Sorry..." Vin sighed, "I feel like shit Buck..."
Buck didn't reply, knowing the high level of pain that the Texan could endure. This only confirmed his suspicions of how ill his young friend was.
"Aw, hell." Buck hissed gently guiding Vin's arm into the new shirt. "I forgot your sling. The fella next store was gonna cut a hunk of material for me. I'll be right back."
"I'm okay," Vin took a deep breath and began to button his shirt with his left hand.
Chris entered the store and hunted down some cheroots. He spotted the pile of colorful bandannas and thought of Vin. He picked out a bright blue one, the color reminded him of the tracker's eyes. He paid for his purchases and made his way outside. He spotted a nice deserted post outside the bath house and leaned against it. He eyed the fading sun and pulled out Vin's harmonica. Setting the musical instrument to his lips, he began to play.
Vin cocked his head as a tune filtered inside the open door. He secured the top button and began to hum along. It was a song that always gave him chills and this version was very moving. He felt drawn to it and the haunting music drove him to the doorway. As the final notes of 'Amazing Grace' died out, Vin exited the bath house. Glancing at the sidewalk, he jerked back in shock, his eyes as wide as blue saucers. He managed to stagger a few feet and felt his body turn to pins and needles. There less than five feet away in grief-stricken profile, was his best friend. He spotted the mouth organ and noticed the death grip Chris had on it. Then he saw the green eyes and wished he hadn't. The pain that radiated from them, sent a lance through him. His jaw moved, he swallowed hard, but no words came out. Finally, he managed to peel his lips apart.
"Hell, I bet ya stole m'horse too..." Vin cringed as soon as the words left his lips. What the hell kind of thing was that to say to someone who thought they'd lost you forever?
Chris froze when he heard the voice. His heart was pounding painfully, his breath skidded to a sharp halt and he creased his brows. He took a deep breath and slowly turned his head. He saw an oversized sky blue chambray shirt first and followed the neckline up to...
"Jesus!" he hissed, jerking and toppling over, landing hard on his butt in the street. His eyes widened in shock at the bruised, flushed face surrounded by long wet curls. His mind refused to acknowledge what his heart was screaming at him.
"Nah, still Vin," the tracker replied, smiling and extending his arm. But his smile faded when Chris made no move to take his hand. The leader's face remained pale and tense, the eyes stunned and silent. His hand wavered and his heart sank, "Chris?" he whispered, eyes cloaked in blue apprehension.
It was the soft whisper that made Chris resume his breathing. The power of the breathy drawl slammed into him hard. He took the hand and pulled the 'ghost' into an embrace. He clenched his eyes shut and gripped the muscle and sinew under his fingertips hard, needing to assure himself it was real.
Vin stiffened and sucked in his breath, when Chris suddenly embraced him. He felt his best friend's heart beating rapidly against his chest. Then just as quickly, it was over and he was pulled back. The face was now taut with anger, the mouth was snarling and the eyes a livid green.
"Aw, hell," Vin hissed, furrowing his brows together, "Ya ain't seen me but fer a minute. Couldn't have done nothin' t'piss ya off that fast."
"Where the Hell have you been!" Chris roared, gripping the tracker's shoulders with iron claws. "We thought you were dead. I sat on your fuckin' grave for Christ's sake." He jerked free, balling both hands into fists. "I ought to..." He paused and frowned, realizing he was talking to air. Then he felt a body hit his thighs and glanced down. Vin was on his knees, leaning into the black pants. "What's wrong?" He knelt down and eased his friend back. Both of Vin's eyes were clenched shut and his left hand was snaked under his new shirt. The breathing came in short pants and it was then Chris saw the effects of whatever ordeal the younger man suffered. His face was gaunt from weight loss, dark circles rimmed his eyes. Chris brushed the wet, tangled hair from the flushed face and felt the heat emerging. "You got a fever..." he muttered and pried the hand free. He spotted the soggy bandage and pulled it free too. The red area around the wound was hot to the touch and he cringed, realizing it was in the exact spot he'd ground his fingers into. "Shit... I'm sorry, Vin..." He moved his hand up and behind the injured man's neck. The shaggy head rose and the eyes were unbearably emotive. He sucked in a ragged breath, as those blue beacons bore into him hard. "You scared me, you sorry-assed Texan, you know that?" he grunted and saw the sky eyes crinkle as a soft smile was born.
"That's another two bits Ezra owes me," Vin teased, swallowing hard. "I'm sorry, Chris," he whispered, staring deep in to the green eyes at six weeks of anguish. Six weeks of Larabee's pain and grief and maybe a some guilt.
"Me too, Cowboy," Chris nodded, still harboring guilt over his decision to abandon Buck and Vin the day of the Alvarez ambush. "Guess that means my future as a harmonica soloist is in serious doubt."
"Real serious," Vin chuckled and felt a strong wave of dizziness overtake him. "Get me inside," he whispered, letting Chris help him up. "Buck's gonna have a fit, his pretty stitches it busted again."
"Buck!" Chris hollered, guiding Vin to a chair in the bath house. "Buck's with you?"
"He's the one who dug me up..."
"Dug you up?" Chris frowned.
"Scare up some water?" Vin asked, his mouth like a desert.
"Sure," Chris trotted off.
Buck was whistling when he entered the bath house and the note died in his throat when he saw the awful state of his friend. The face was lined in pain, rivers of sweat poured freely, the eyes were clouded and the hands were sticky with blood.
"What the hell happened?"
"Buck, it ain't... I didn't... I'm sorry, I busted yer stitches."
"That's okay, Vin." Buck softened his tone, when he saw the dangerous state the other man was in. "Come on, let's get you to a doctor."
"No! No! I ain't lettin' that fuckin' butcher touch me." Vin screamed, standing and staggering away. "No doctor... ya can't make me... ya... shit..."
"Vin!" Chris bellowed, dropping the cup and catching the buckling body.
"Chris!" Buck moved in and got the other side. After sitting Vin down, he eased the injured arm into a sling. "How'd you get here?"
"Later," Chris stated, concerned about Vin's failing health. "Look Vin, that shoulder needs tending. You need to have a doctor..."
"No! No fuckin' doctor's gonna tie me down again... stick some filthy knife in me... Goddamn senile drunk... Buck, ya promised..."
"Yeah, okay, Vin... settle down," Buck soothed, gripping the shaken tracker's jaw. He saw Chris's puzzlement and raised a hand, signaling he'd explain later. "Everybody with you?" he hoped, thinking of Nathan.
"Yeah, at the saloon."
"Nathan" Vin's weak voice rose with his head. His poured his hope into his eyes and stared right through Chris.
"Yeah," Chris eased, watching the tell-tale eyes slide shut. "Come on Cowboy, let's get you fixed up." He moved to help Vin up, but the tracker's left hand shot out and his head turned, seeking Buck. There was no hesitation, it was an automatic move; one born of the bond that was created during the harrowing ordeal he'd suffered through. Vin's fevered mind was latching onto the one constant that pulled him through every nightmare and jaunt through hell. The steady voice that chased the demons away and the strong arms that cradled his battered body and soul. Chris's face broke into a genuine smile, when he saw the tender look on Buck's face as he lifted the injured man and steadied him.
He followed a few paces behind, still wearing the grin. As they reached the doorway, he caught Buck's eye over Vin's drooping head.
"Thanks, Pard," he saluted and saw a beautiful Wilmington smile born.
"Josiah, you sure this is chicken?" J.D. wrinked his nose and lifted the could-be-meat off his plate. He waited as the preacher eyed the morsel dripping with gravy and then watched as the solemn face turned away. "Well?"
"Live and learn, Son," the eldest advised, returning to his beef stew.
"Thanks," J.D. retorted sarcastically, before taking a tenative bite.
Although the saloon wasn't crowded, Ezra remained several tables away, shuffling his cards. He already decided to eat later at the cafe near the hotel. He and Chris were supposed to be travelling together, so they remained separated from the others. Bored, the gambler drained his whiskey and rose to get another. At the end of the bar, there were two hot dishes in kettles. One was beef stew, the other was supposed to be chicken and dumplings. Ezra saw Nathan screw his face up at both and take two biscuits instead.
He moved beside Ezra, waiting for the bartender. He eyed the gambler tossing down another shot and shook his dark head.
"You don't get some food in you, Ezra, you're gonna be sorry..."
"Not to worry, Mr. Jackson," Ezra purred without taking his eyes from the large window that overlooked the street. "I am well aware of my limits and rest assured I will not regurgitate on you."
"Hmmph..." the other snorted, drizzling honey on his biscuits.
Buck kept his hand under Vin's elbow, just in case the tracker's legs buckled. He was about to step into the street, when Vin kept going forward.
"Hotel's this way, Vin," he called out.
"...ain't goin' there." Vin rasped, concentrating on keeping one foot in front of the other and not falling. "I ain't had a drink in... well I can't recall how long. I had me a day..." he paused and turned slowly to see where Buck was. "Ya comin'? Chris's buyin'..."
"You're awful Goddamn generous with my money, Tanner," Chris grumbled, still a good few feet behind Vin.
"Yer up... I got the last one..." Vin wavered and his arm flew out, looking for Chris. The gunslinger closed the gap in two long strides, and steadied the staggering man.
"How you figure?" Chris asked, waiting for Vin to catch his breath, before releasing his arm.
"I got the last round in Salerno..."
"Some much for being fever-addled..." Buck chuckled, stepping onto the boardwalk next to Chris.
"Ya gonna tell me?" Vin asked, lifting his head painfully and eyeing Chris Larabee hard. He'd been thinking on why his friends, all five, would have deserted Four Corners. "Can't be totin' a prisoner, too many of ya." He squinting against the harsh setting sun. "Ya ain't huntin' me or Bucklin... but yer on the hunt," Vin easily read the stormy green eyes. "Well?"
"Colt got a lead on Hazzard," Chris admitted and saw the blue eyes bristle. The Texan whirled around and grabbed Chris's collar, his sudden move nearly throwing his unsteady body onto the street.
"Where is he?" he snarled, eyes hot and bulging. "Understand this, he's mine..."
"You're not fit enough to be chasin' anything but some sleep. You're sick Vin. You need..."
"I need that murderin' bastard's head on a pole. Ya can ride with me or chase m'dust. Yer call..."
Chris made no reply, only raising a single eyebrow at the hand clutching his collar. He knew how much Vin needed this; to see justice done and his name cleared. But at what cost? Vin was as stubborn as he was smart. Chris felt the tracker's arm trembling and saw the blue eyes flinching in pain. For a long moment, neither made moved.
"Just like old times," Buck sighed, eyeing the two stubborn faces, just inches apart. "Like two fuckin' dogs fightin' over a bone. Let's take it off the street at least?" Buck asked leaning in and facing Vin. "Vin... you best sit down before you fall down. This ain't solvin' a thing."
Vin didn't say a word, but he released Chris and didn't hide his anger. "Colt?" he teethed, grasping the hitching post and fighting the urge to drop.
"He's watching Hazzard's place. He really came through. He's been bustin' his ass for a couple weeks; he's got blood in his eye." Chris added, resisting the urge to grab the staggering body in front of him.
"He lives here?" Vin rasped, blinking at Buck and Chris's blurry faces.
"He's renovating a place outside town. You want that drink or not?" Chris deflected and sighed in relief as Vin hobbled towards the saloon. Chris slowed his pace and smacked a hand against Buck's chest.
"We paid him a little visit today." Chris admitted, out of Tanner's range.
"He's dead?" Buck gasped and saw Chris frown.
"Gimme a little credit, Buck!" the leader scowled. "We're settin' him up. Judge Travis will be here day after tomorrow and it goes down that night. Ezra's the lawyer from the railroad who came to take my statement about Vin being in another place when Kincaid was killed."
"Blackmail?" Buck inquired.
"It's got more to it, I'll fill you in later. Hazzard's got money socked away all over the place. He wants to keep a low profile. He'll pay off rather than invite an investigation into his illegal activity."
"You hope." Buck sighed, then thought of Colt Haskill.
"Colt's a good man," Buck observed and saw Chris nod in agreement. "When you gonna tell him?" he nodded to Vin's snail-like progess.
"Dunno," Chris sighed, "He's gonna want in and he's not up to it. I'm gonna have to think on it."
"Don't shut him out, Chris. He's been waitin' too long and it'll hurt him good."
"Maybe," Chris sighed, "but a pissed-off Vin is better than a dead one." He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "That shoulder's in bad shape. Between Nate cuttin' him open and that fever, he'll be out of it for days. By the time he's aware again, it'll be over."
"I don't like it," Buck admitted, "Vin should get the chance to spit in that bastard's face."
"He will." Chris promised, "I'll see he gets a front row seat at the trial."
While his two friends talked, Vin got a brief burst of energy and found himself quickening his pace. He licked his lips in anticipation as he stared through the window of the saloon. He cocked his head and squinted, trying to clear up the blurry images. From his vantage point, he could see the end of the bar and a fuzzy form peering back at him. He leaned in to get a better look and lost his balance.
"Good Lord!" Ezra coughed, spitting a mouthful of Kentucky's finest sipping whiskey all over the bar. "Vin!" he hissed, jerking back and rubbing his eyes. For a split second, he'd seen his late friend's gaunt face in the glass, now it was gone.
J.D. and Josiah both turned their heads at the same time and saw the empty window and then Nathan's exasperated face. Suppressing a laugh, Josiah furrowed his brows together.
"Visitin' all kinds of spirits eh, Ez?" He noted of the expensive whiskey.
"I told you not to drink that shit on an empty stomach, now you're seeing things," Nate sassed, "Don't come slinkin' around with a 'Mr. Jackson my stomach is quite unsettled'," the healer imitated the southerner's accent.
"I am well within my capabilities and I am most certainly not hallucinating," Ezra riled, fixing an intense stare on the glass.
"Seems to me that's a fitting description of seeing the dearly departed." Josiah observed, taking a gulp of beer.
"Vin!" the two older men called in unison and raced up the boardwalk. Vin was sitting and struggling to get a leg up.
"I'm okay," he protested, as Chris hauled him up. "Just got a bit dizzy..."
"One drink, Vin!" Chris drilled, "then you get your ass over to the hotel and let Nate fix your shoulder."
"Been savin' that up, I reckon," Vin mumbled, taking a step forward, his side glance ensuring that Chris was next to him. "...nobody to growl at fer weeks..." he shifted his body and paused as Buck moved up. "Keep yer long face outta my way, Larabee," he sassed of the scowl he'd missed.
"Come on Slick," Buck chuckled, seeing the life trickle into Chris's eyes again and the familiar turn up of one corner of his lip. "I'm buyin'..." he grabbed the tracker's elbow and moved inside the bar.
"Buck!" J.D. choked on his food and swallowed hard. He jumped up and raced to the doorway to greet his friend.
"Hey Kid!" the rogue boomed, "Brought you a present," he moved aside and Vin shuffled inside. He saw Vin tense up and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. The smaller man moved forward to shake his young friend's hand, but then froze.
"Oh God, Vin!" J.D. sputtered and flew backwards. "You're dead..."
"Not hardly," Vin rasped, "...it ain't catchin'..." he snapped, feeling suddenly out of place. He slumped into the nearest chair and closed his eyes, as the room began to swim. He peeled an eye open at the thump of a glass. He drained the shot and tapped the table with the empty glass. They all heard the soft rustling sound as the weary legs shuffled inside. The hair on their necks rose and stood on end; they remained muted servants to the uneasy silence as the dead man took a chair. His words echoed on silence, as his friends remained motionless, stunned and wide-eyed.
"Pull up a chair, Kid," Vin invited in a ragged whisper, "I ain't seen ya in a spell. I ain't a ghost, J.D...." He watched the youthful sheriff's face change and a warm smile erupt. Then the youth gripped the back of his neck and settled into the chair next to him.
"They said you were dead Vin..."
"They was almost right..." Vin replied, sipping the second shot slowly. "There was a long-haired kid in the meat wagon with me. He was gut shot and on his way out. His shirt was a mess, so I switched with him. When they gave me the shirt, they wrote the numbers down."
"...and they had already recorded that number as Vin Tanner," J.D. relieved.
"I'm sure glad your not dead Vin."
"Thanks Kid," Vin smiled.
"...and the Lord said, 'Thy brother shall rise again..." Josiah recalled the familiar bible verse and rested both hands on the lost lamb's shoulders. "Lazarus Tanner, you're a sight for sore eyes, Son." his voice was rich and full. He squeezed Vin's shoulders and saw the shaggy head rise and the familiar soulful eyes smile at him.
"Hey, 'siah... missed y'all..."
Chris took his eyes around the saloon and found Ezra, still frozen in place at the bar. Nathan was moving towards Vin, his healer's instincts on overdrive at the sight of the bedraggled figure. The leader shifted his eyes to his best friend, now safe withing the fold. He moved across the room and stood next to Ezra, just behind him. He took the fancy whiskey and poured two shots.
"But... how..." Ezra stammered.
"Hell if I know..." Chris replied, leaning a boot on the brass rail, "...hell if I care." He tapped the gambler's glass and the other man turned, tearing his gaze away. "Buck'll fill us in. You look like you've seen a ghost, Ezra."
"Your humor leaves a lot to be desired," the other replied. Losing Vin had shaken him to the core. Vin was the first of them, he'd trusted to drop the mask with. Vin had the uncanny ability to see right through him, good and bad. He accepted him the same way, wary of his faults and jaded past. The loss left him cold and distant, he didn't know how to cope with the deep feelings and grief. Now Vin was shoved back at him, and he was at a loss again.
"You're not the conman you think you are," Chris read the younger man's green eyes. "When all this shit settles down, you should tell him." He observed of the gambler's unsettledness.
"I don't know if I can," Ezra said quietly, "It hurt too much."
"Only proves that he's worth it."
Ezra looked sharply at Chris and picked up his glass. He paused a moment and nodded, tapping the blond's glass. "It's not his worth that I question. It's my own..."
"That's bullshit, Ezra and don't bring it up again." Chris warned and Ezra turned away. Chris leaned against the bar and glanced at the table again. J.D.'s mouth was running a mile a minute, causing Vin to wrinkle his brow in concentration, trying to keep up. Josiah stood behind Vin, leaving one large and resting on the tracker's back. Buck was at next to him, teasing J.D., while keeping his vigil at Vin's side. Nate moved in and began to unbutton Vin's shirt. Whatever the healer said, caused an 'aw, hell' from the fevered-riddled Texan. Chris left a small smile creep onto his lips and raised his glass. Through the excited voices, prodding hands and shuffling bodies, blue eyes bore into green ones. The seven were together again and it didn't get much better than this.
It wasn't fancy like the kind of stuff Ezra drank, but it sure did a nice little dance on his tonsils. He was about to drain another shot, when a dark hand slid into his quickly blurring vision.
"How bad?" Nate asked, bending over Vin and reaching for the sling.
"...ain't the arm..." Vin replied, sipping his drink, "...shoulder..." he hissed as Nate's deft fingers probed the wound. "Shit..."
"Don't look like a complicated wound..." Nate frowned, feeling the fever in the flushed man's face.
"Weren't the bullet what done that," Vin gritted against the fire wall that exploded in his lower back.
"Your back?" Nate eased Vin forward, seeing the body engulfed in pain. He carefully lifted the sky blue shirt and hissed at the purplish-blue skin.
"Jesus,Vin, what the hell happened?"
"That's a goodbye gift from the guards," Buck seethed, not willing to leave Vin's side.
"Just so's ya know, Nate," Vin rasped, "I been passin' blood. It ain't as much as it was..."
"Okay," Nate sighed, resting a hand on Vin's forehead. "You got a nice fever..."
"...been workin' on it fer ya..." Vin teased, gripping the table hard and hissing, "...figured ya missed yer star patient." Vin looked up just in time to see the scowl disappear and the even white teeth of Nathan Jackson smiling at him. He felt the hand on his shoulder give a slight tug and he nodded. "Hey, Nate..." he said softly, eyes crinkling in warmth.
"Hey, Vin..." Nate replied thickly.
"So how is it you and Buck got here?" J.D. elbowed Vin and saw him gasp.
"Sorry..."
"...s'okay, Kid." Vin took a breath and lifted his nearly empty glass. He caught Buck's eyes and the other man bent forward, grabbing a bottle. "We're fixin' on killin' us a fuckin' dragon, ain't that right marshal?" Vin crowed weakly, eyes shining at Buck Wilmington.
"Gonna send that scaly son-of-a-bitch straight to Hell..." Buck answered, grinning broadly and tapping Vin's glass. He let his gaze linger for a moment and recalled the emotional storm the two weathered together. Vin's smile was something to see, it sure was. He laughed and took a long swig of the bottle, before clapping Vin on the back.
"I think you both got sunstroke..." J.D. complained.
"Come on, Vin," Nate advised, "Let's get you settled in your room and I'll get the doctor to..."
"No!" Vin shoved his chair back and stood up. The room began to swirl and he felt someone shove him back down into the chair.
"What's the matter with you?" Nate argued, keeping a grip on the wavering body.
"No doctor... Buck gimme his word... no butcher's hackin' me up again... yer hands the only ones... no doctor..."
"Easy now, Vin," Buck soothed, squatting down and staring at the livid blue eyes. "How about you let Nate get a look at you, okay?"
"I ain't done m'drink yet..." the crusty reply came.
"That's fine," Buck patted his back and moved away, "You finish up, then we'll go." He moved to the bar and felt Nathan right behind him.
"What the hell was that all about?" the healer demanded, standing next to Ezra.
Buck sighed deeply, took his hat off and ran his hand throught his dark hair. He dropped his head and tried to control himself, but failed.
Chris saw the fire burning in Buck's eyes and narrowed his gaze. "Buck?"
"The other kid died and Vin was in a bad way with a fever. The infirmary is run by a nice old guy, Isaac Washington, he saved Vin's life. They have a miserable, depraved drunk who has the balls to call himself a doctor..." Buck gripped the shot glass with such intensity, his knuckles turned white. "Isaac was getting supplies and this... this... animal staggered into the clinic and spotted Vin. They had a table there... with leather straps... a scary fuckin' thing..." Buck blew out a long breath and tried to get his rage under control. "...that bastard strapped Vin onto it and thought he was back in the war. He tried to gut Vin like a fish..."
"Jesus!" Chris hissed and fisted both hands.
"What happened?" Nate prodded.
"He ended up suckin' in as much chloroform as he forced on Vin and knocked himself out. Isaac got there just in time. Vin wasn't so lucky the second time." Buck heard Ezra's sharp intake of breath and eyed the other man carefully before continuing. "There was an explosion... a prison break. Vin tried to stop them and got shot. Isaac was in town, helping with the wounded. They tortured him... Jesus God, Chris," He dropped his head and it took several seconds before he could continue. "... tied them fuckin' leather straps around his neck and body... the knife had pieces of every poor bastard who that animal cut up still on it... he used instruments from the bloody filth on the floor..."
Chris's stomach was churning and his blood boiling. He saw Buck struggling to control himself and losing the battle.
"...he was awake..." Buck whispered painfully, staring at the wood grain on the bar.
"Aw, shit..." Nate slammed his palms on the bar top.
"I got there just in time. He was damn near dead... a whole river of yellow and green crud runnin' out of his shoulder. I made Isaac boil everything. I got most of it, Nate... I tried... but I'm not sure... he carved Vin up good inside... he's been relivin' it in his dreams."
"You saved his life, Buck," Nate replied, resting a hand on the Buck's weary shoulder and eyeing the black inferno next to the rogue. "Chris, you gotta put that away," Nate warned, seeing the explosion about to happen. "He don't need that now. You get him over to the hotel and I'll get what I need."
"Let's go Vin," Josiah tapped his back.
"Okay," Vin turned slowly in the chair and gripped the table. Try as he might, the pain in his back flared each time he attemped to push off the table.
"Mr. Tanner," Ezra replied, "May I be of assistance?"
"Ez?" Vin chirped, grinning up at the gambler, "Damn nice of ya t'show up with yer fancy booze after I'm done drinkin'." Vin huffed and saw a brief grin. "Ya lose that damn tooth?" Vin waited until the Standish smile revealed the telltale gold tooth. "...hah!" the fevered man chuckled, allowing Ezra to grab his left elbow. "Shit... aw, shit..." Vin gasped, as an invisible knife penetrated his back. He appreciated the fact that Ezra didn't fuss over him, rather the southerner remained quietly at his side, showing his concern by his support. "Sorry..."
"Not at all," Ezra managed, his stomach clenching at the thought of the madman who'd tortured his friend. "You're looking decidedly unwell."
"...bein' a corpse does that t'ya..." Vin was finally upright and held his left arm up, signaling he wanted to go it alone.
"Welcome back, my friend."
Vin turned at the unusual tight sound in Ezra's voice. He felt a linen cloth pressed into his palm along with the handshake. He frowned and cocked his head, as the white cloth unfolded. "God... oh God..." he rasped, his eyes wide in shock. The sight truly stunned him, sending him backwards. He felt Josiah's strong hand stop his movment. He dipped his head and slid the soft leather object on, sighing deeply as the long lost cord lay softly on his neck. His hand trembled as he gently caressed the soft folds of his cherished medicine pouch.
"I was very careful not to touch it," Ezra added, his chest tight at the overflow of emotion on Vin's face. "It was on the floor of that dreadful cell in Fanning."
Vin heard the words and heard the thought between them. He raised his head and gripped Ezra's shoulder. "Ez..." he managed before clamping his mouth shut. The hot flush he felt on his face had nothing to do with his fever.
"It's was an honor, Vin," Ezra disarmed, smiling warmly at the speechless man. Vin's deep sigh and being drilled by those emotive blue pools, was thanks enough. It wasn't often he'd done something this fine and he was relishing every minute of the good feeling.
"You okay, Ezra?" Buck asked, seeing all the color leave the gambler's face.
"I believe a long constitutional is in order," he managed shakily and nodded. Buck clapped his shoulder and moved towards the door. Nathan was steadying Vin, when the tracker's legs buckled. Josiah caught him easily as he passed out and carried him carefully to the hotel. By luck, or perhaps fate, the room Buck was given when he registered, was the large corner one on the second floor. It had two beds, a table and chairs and windows on two different sides. There as a large patio next to the room, which had a half-a-dozen chairs and scattered small tables. Nathan chased most of the peacekeepers from the room, once he had Vin ready for surgery. Josiah placed a black kettle full of hot water on the floor. Carefully, he took out the instruments and began to set them on a tray.
Chris lingered at the foot of the bed, watching as Nathan fed Vin some laudanum and eased him back onto the bed. He saw Vin's eyes clench shut, the lip bitten in pain and the white knuckles clutching the mattress. The body was slick with sweat as the fever consumed him. Wet brown hair clung to the tracker's face like a reluctant lover. Chris cocked his head and snuck a glance back at Josiah. The preacher was done and moving the instruments carefully with sterile tongs. Chris picked up a towel and dropped it in the steaming water. He picked up the discarded tongs and lifted the hot linen from the water. He got most of the excess fluid off with the tongs and then wrung it with his hands, flinching at the hot touch. He ambled over to the bed and gently rolled Vin onto his side. He dropped the rolled up towel at the base of Vin's back, across the purple bruise. Then he lowered his injured friend onto the hot towel. The grunts of pain turned into moans of pleasure, as the hot liquid penetrated the Texan's skin. A hand shot up and locked onto Chris's forearm. He smiled at the owlish eyes, fighting a losing battle to stay open. He slipped onto the edge of the bed and bent over, closer to the lips that were moving.
"...might hafta marry ya, Larabee..."
Chris laughed and kept hold of that hand, watching the eyes slowly fading away. Just as he was about to rise and leave Nathan to his work, the limp hand gained life and pressed into his. The patient's eyes never opened, but the lips parted and Chris bent over to listen.
"...this..." Vin whispered, squeezing his best friend's hand, "...feels right."
"Yeah," Chris said tightly, gripping the hand tightly, "it sure does, Cowboy." He remained in position until the hand went totally limp and the pain creased face went slack. He waited until Josiah moved in, placing the tray on the table near Vin's good shoulder. Nathan arrived and nodded at Chris, who rose and left the room, snaking a bottle of whiskey from the chest of drawers on the way out.
Minutes slid into each other, crashing heavily and tilting the hands of the clock. The four anxious men each dealt with the worry in a different way. Ezra was shuffling a deck of cards, seated far off in the corner. Buck was exhausted, sitting on a chair, with his head resting against the wall. His dark blue eyes were slits and his head was pounding. J.D. was pacing, rolling his hat on his nervous fingers, making anxious faces and pacing again. Chris as standing on the far edge of the stone patio, facing the street. His body was like an ebony statue, a stark contrast to the pale skin and damp blond hair. Although his body never moved, the flickering lamp light revealed a slight shift of his eyes, every so often. They would zone in on the window, several feet away. He was able to see Josiah's broad back and hear the clatter of instruments, soft Jackson curses and an occasional 'Easy Brother' by the preacher.
"Colt's back..." J.D. announced, seeing the lawman. "I'll get him..."
"As if I wasn't tired enough," Buck sighed, "that boy's tuckerin' me right out."
"Oh that youth is wasted on the young," Ezra's voice cut into the night. Several seconds later, J.D. reappeared with the tired lawman. He nodded to the others, exchanged a slow nod with Chris and pulled a chair next to Buck Wilmington.
"You got more lives than a cat, Wilmington." Colt discharged, eyeing the new lump and sticky dark hair. He saw the lines of extreme exhaustion and the eyes tinged with worry. He waited until the dark head rose and a small smile managed to be born.
"Good to see you too, Colt. How's Mary?"
"Wearin' me out." Colt bragged, getting a weak laugh from Buck. "The Kid says you brought Tanner in with you? What happened?"
Before Buck could reply, Chris's body finally moved. The statue-like posture that had been riveted into place for hours, flew past them. Buck didn't realize he was standing until his chair fell over.
"Well?" Chris's tonsils roused lazily from their sleep.
Nathan stared hard back at the green eyes that were burning holes in him. He brushed past Colt and headed for Ezra. The conman was on his way over to where the others stood waiting and handed the seething healer the bottle of whiskey without exchanging a word. The others watched as the tall ex-slave consumed a long draw of the smooth liquor, before handing the bottle to Chris.
Chris's eyes were riveted to the healer's heaving chest and the blood on the apron he wore. He drew his gaze up reluctantly, almost fearing what he'd find in their dark depths.
"Nate?" Chris prayed, "He isn't..."
"Lucky," Nate snapped, the word shot out with fire on a hot breath of revulsion. "That fuckin' son-of-a-bitch is lucky I'm not holdin' a knife over him."
The others were stunned, they'd never seen Nathan so full of rage and hostility. Ezra moved to stand next to him, unnerved by the heaving chest and clenched fists. His pale jade eyes flicked to the doorway, where Josiah's darkened face loomed, blue eyes laced with fury.
"How fares our fallen comrade?"
Nate let out a long, frustrated breath as Ezra's words hovered in the air. He licked his lips, savoring the remnants of the whiskey. He wiped the sweat from his brow and eyed every face carefully, before speaking. "...bastard carved him up good... slashin' and hackin' the hell all over. Bullet would wasn't nowhere's near that rest of that mess. Don't know how he lived through it."
"How bad?" Chris's voice lowered.
"Bad enough." Nate shook his head. "I sewed up all the pieces... patched him up fine. He's got a bad fever in 'im and he's pretty weak. He won't be usin' that arm for some time. It's got a lot of healin' to do."
"Any permanent damage?" Colt asked, still not sure how Tanner came to be in Blue Meadow and among the living.
"I hope not, Colt," Nate sighed, "Vin's about as strong as they come, if anybody can fight back, he can. It's gonna hurt, though, when them muscles start healin' and he's gotta stretch 'em." He walked slowly over to Buck and held out his hand. He stared into the dark blue eyes that were barely open, housed in dark circles on a shadowed face. He gripped Buck's hand tightly and didn't hide the admiration in his own eyes. His voice was deep and full as he spoke.
"You did one helluva job, Buck... you saved his life and his arm."
"Thanks, Nate... but don't go hangin' up your scapel just yet," Buck teased and felt a wave of relief. Vin was through the worst of it, and had a wall of heart to protect him.
"How'd you find him, anyhow?" Nate asked, taking the mug of coffee Josiah offered. The preacher gave one to Buck as well.
"Aw, hell Josiah," Buck complained, wrinking his nose after taking a sip, "this only has coffee in it..."
"Not to fear," Ezra soothed, pouring a healthy shot in Wilmington's mug. "You've earned it..."
"I was leavin' the prison, I'd made my peace with Vin," Buck paused and nodded as J.D. sat beside him. "The old man came after me with a letter, wanted me to post it for him." He slid his hand into his shirt pocket and drew out the envelope. His head ducked until he made eye contact with the leader. "I hope you don't mind, Pard, I opened it..." he sighed wearily and handed the letter to Chris.
Chris's eyes rested on Buck's deep thoughtful ones, before glancing at the letter. He frowned at seeing his name on the front and peeled the paper open. His furrowed brows creased in confusion at the strange message. His thumb unconsciously moved over the word 'Cowboy', as he moved the second paper into the light. "Shit..." he expelled heavily, seeing the anguished moment Vin captured with pencil on paper. His head shot up and met Buck's weary face.
"Yeah," Buck whispered, "that's exactly how it hit me, too. Hell, I don't remember getting to the door. Just freezing in the frame when I saw him. I couldn't believe..." his voice nearly broke and he stopped. He took several gulping breaths and felt both Nathan and J.D. closing ranks protectively. He cleared his throat and wiped his eyes, before continuing. "I dug that mess outta him and hollered at him to fight. The next couple days were a blur, he was in a bad way. The warden went to give his report on the explosion and the guards he left behind were pissed off royally and drunk. They blamed Vin... and wanted to hang him from the gate. It was Vin's idea... I was dead set against it. He... uh... had a way... he can make his heart slow down and his breathin' go away... somethin' to do with a medicine man learnin' him when he lived with them, after the war. I went to town and got a wagon, tellin' the guards I was takin' his body back to his folks. When I got back, he'd done it already," Buck blew out anther long breath and took a sip of the strong coffee. His hands were trembling slightly and J.D. gave his shoulder a squeeze.
"You okay, Buck?" he asked.
"Yeah, Kid, thanks." Buck eyed the boy warmly, "I brought the second-in-command over to sign the papers, giving me the rights to the body." Buck rose and walked away from the others, dropping his head as the awful image came back. "I had the box ready... but those drunken bastards... spit, pissed and kicked him..." Buck flinched as a string of Larabee curses sailed by.
"I thought so..." Josiah nodded, "He's covered with bootmarks... I've seen that before. He's lucky they didn't use him for target practice. I've seen that too..."
"That's what Isaac said," Buck recalled, his voice distant, "I wanted to cut their balls off, but he stopped me..." Buck sighed, "They finally left and Isaac got him in the box. It was only supposed to be for an hour, until we got far enough away. But I got clubbed by two of the escaped cons... they took the wagon. It must have been slowin' them down, cause I found it up the road a ways. I saw the box... I ripped the lid off." His voice cracked again and he felt a strong hand on his shoulder. He saw a sliver of black denim and boots next to him. Chris didn't say anything, but that hand spoke volumes. "I was scared shitless, Chris... I thought I killed him... " He dropped his head and began to struggle. "He was... all twisted up inside... fingers bloody from trying to claw his way out... Why didn't I hear them bastards coming?" He groaned, punching the stone wall. He felt the hand grip his shoulder hard and raised his head. Chris's eyes were full of thanksgiving and they gave him strength.
"Looks like I'm beholdin' again, Bucko..." Chris hushed, silencing Buck's guilt. He was glad for the soft chuckle the old nickname brought.
"Buck, let me get a look at your head," Nate tapped his arm, "then you're takin' the bunk next to Vin and gettin' some rest."
Buck shuffled into the room right behind Chris. They stood side by side, watching their fevered friend's chest rise and fall. Nate shoved Buck into the bedside chair, before cleaning and dressing his head wound. He pointed to the empty bed and scowled, gaining a nod from Buck.
J.D., Ezra and Colt stayed for a few minutes, before Nathan shooed them away. Josiah took the bloody instruments and the kettle downstairs to clean.
Nate left a large bowl of cool water and some rubbing alchohol with Chris, then left to get some rest. Suddenly the room was silent, as the two men felt every raspy breath the wounded man fought for. Buck's hand drifted down, trembling slightly as he brushed the errant, wet hair off of Vin's sweaty face. The tracker stirred and moaned, before continuing his restless slumber. Buck's eyes drifted to the wonderful sight of the empty bed, calling to him. The short distance seemed like miles, as his heavy limbs suddenly wouldn't move. He felt a hand pulling him up and let Chris guide him to the bed. He swayed slightly and felt his boots tugged off. He peeled an eye open and drank in the wonderful sight of a living, breathing Vin Tanner. His gaze shifted, just in time to see the restored soul reflecting in Chris's full eyes.
"I did good, huh, Pard..." he asked, smiling slightly at his oldest friend. For a second, the years melted away as a beautiful Chris Larabee smile bloomed. The eyes were radiant and the face joyous. He took a mental image, tucking it away to be recalled. He felt the both shoulders gripped hard and heard Chris's emotive voice.
"Fuckin' A, Bucko, Fuckin' A..."
The smile that those words and that face gave him, stayed with him as he drifted off to sleep. His heavy eyes fell, gazing at Chris's long form sprawled uncomfortably on the chair next to Vin. Josiah reappeared briefly, leaving another kettle of hot water and some towels for Vin's back. The tracker's thrashing was halted by a single hand on his chest and a single soft word by the blond. Vin was safe, his body and spirit protected by the one who knew him like no other. Buck allowed his body to rest, finally able to let himself go.
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