Setting: OW
"Go on Vin," he guided quietly. "Try to get some sleep."
Vin licked his lips and took the remainder of the water. He handed the cup back to Buck and made no move toward the bedroll that Chris had prepared for him earlier. Why was Chris so mad at him? He let himself relax under Buck's tender ministrations and kept his eyes glued on the tense black shirt several feet away. He reached out a wavering hand towards the tense black clothed back, then drew it back.
"He's just worried, is all." Buck read the silent plea clearly, "It's his way. You see Vin, you got family now. Folks who care about you, want to keep you safe."
"...put the worry on ya..." Vin rasped, eyes still trained on Chris's back.
"That's part of it," Buck nodded, "...it's teasing J.D. and giving Nate fits. It's Josiah's strong arms, picking you up when you can't go on, it's Mary worryin' on ya and Billy's hugs. It's happy and sad, laughter and tears, Vin. It's all part of being a family."
"...no account green-eyed cuss..."
"Especially him," Buck said with deep affection and saw Vin turn to him. The readable blue eyes were full of emotion. He saw the hand come up and took it, as the soft drawl floated over.
"Yer Ma... she did a helluva job... she's lucky... havin' a son like..." Vin swallowed, and bit off the waver in his voice.
A beautiful Buck Wilmington smile was born, painted by Vin's touching words. He knew just how much Vin meant every word; they filled him with warmth. He saw the large blue eyes filling and moved his hand inside the tracker's jacket. His nimble fingers found a soft spot on the slight man's abdomen.
"Cut that out, Bucklin," Vin giggled, annoyed that Buck knew where his ticklish spot was. "Don't..." He laughed as one hand tickled and the other wrapped around his neck.
"Sorry, Slick," Buck denied, "Big Brother's claiming rights."
"Brother..." Vin gasped as Buck finally left him up.
"You bet," Buck boomed, "You got a whole pack of 'em now... best get used to us."
"...brothers..." Vin yawned, the fire hypnotizing him. "...good men... good friends... worryin' on ya... watchin' yer back."
"Cheatin' you out of your last dollar." He noted of Ezra and saw that soft smile appear.
"...damn green-eyed cussin' Mama Bear." Vin scowled, his eyes following Chris returning from the water's edge.
"...damn green-eyed cussin' Mama Bear," Buck repeated, chuckling at the return of the familiar Tanner scowl.
"...growlin' at me all the time... hollerin' and glarin'... hell..." Vin muttered, wrinkling his face. "scares me sometimes."
"That's cause he cares about you, Vin," Buck said softly, the golden glow of the fire playing on his handsome face.
"I know," Vin rasped, turning and unleashing his full palate of emotions. "That's what scares me. It hurts Buck..." He paused, drawing his knees up and resting his chin on his crossed arms. "...hurts like hell. Every time one of ya go down... feels like I got shot too." He frowned, his eyes following Chris. He felt Buck's hand on his back and took a shuddering breath as the darkest day of his recent new life came back. "When Josiah pulled him outta the river last month... I seen him look at Nate and shake his head. I damn near died, Buck. It felt like I was being gutted like a damn deer." He sucked in his breath, recalling the sight of Chris Larabee's pale, nearly lifeless body on the banks of the river. "It hurt so bad... it won't go away."
"That why you took off?" Buck inquired, reading the fear clearly. J.D. and Buck had been across the river, and Vin and Chris behind them, when Chris was thrown and carried downstream. By the time they got to him, he was unconscious. Josiah pulled him out and Nate dropped to his other side and the preacher thought the leader was dead. Vin took off, and it took Buck four days to find him.
"He probably thinks I run off on him. I didn't Buck... I didn't mean it... seein' him like that..." Vin swallowed hard, biting back a sob. "...scared the shit outta me."
"Shhh!" Buck eased, rubbing the tense back. "Hush now... it's all done. Chris Larabee knows you'd never run out on him. You're a part of him now, Vin, the best part."
Vin's heavy eyes were sliding shut, and he moved over and stretched out on his bedroll. He turned and unleashed a series of gut-wrenching coughs. When the wheezing finally settled down, he rolled back. He didn't have to open his eyes to know who covered him with a black duster and a blanket. He turned into the callused hand that rested briefly on his cheek.
"I'm sorry, Chris... I fucked up good this time. Why do ya even bother?"
Chris smiled at the woeful voice and looked down on the flushed face. Vin's eyes didn't open but they were darting under the pale lids.
"You're one goddamn sorry-assed cowboy, Tanner," he said huskily, still hearing Vin's pained testimony about the day on the river. "But I reckon I'll keep you." He tapped the stilled shoulder once and sat down. He watched the lips turn up in the troubled sleep and drank in the deep sigh of contentment.
Vin peaceful slumber was interrupted by a flood of bitterness. His heart raced and his breath came in pants. He was in the barn... and he was behind in his chores. Two of the horses still needed to be curried, the hay was all over and the grain sacks were still outside. The small legs wouldn't go fast enough. He gasped and thrashed, hearing the thundering footsteps. His eyes widened at the beefy hand reached out and...
"No!!!"
"Vin, take it easy." Chris was kneeling over the nightmare stricken man. He'd been sleeping lightly, in case Vin got sick again. He heard the frantic breathing and saw the thrashing begin. He grabbed the tense shoulders and two blue eyes shot open. Before he could address the fear housed there, a fist shot and caught him in the jaw. He reeled back and lay stunned.
"Ya ain't gonna beat on me no more... I'll kill ya first..."
"Vin, wait a minute." Chris groaned, trying to sit up. He saw the staggered gait heading for the fire, eyes fixed and lost. "Vin! Get down!" He screamed and took off.
"What the hell happened?" Buck croaked, the scream rousing him. He saw Chris tackle Vin and ran to help.
"No... let me go... ya ain't gonna take a board t'me no more, Lucas... No!"
"Vin, it's Chris," The worried leader persisted. He was sitting on Vin, his lean legs trapping the struggling arms and body. "Vin!" He slapped the terrified face and jumped as Vin gasped and looked around.
"Chris?"
"Yeah," Chris sighed and slid off, rubbing his jaw. "Next time, you take first shift," he said to Buck, who hauled him up.
"You okay?"
"Yeah, helluva nightmare," he noted, "Vin?" He frowned as his open hand was shunned. The tracker was sitting cross-legged, rocking back and forth, arms wrapped around his chest. At first, Chris thought he'd injured the younger man when he tackled him. But then he saw something far worse in the wide, anguished sky eyes. He sat down next to the frightful form and waited. Buck took the other side, ready to lend a hand. Finally, after several minutes, Vin turned and faced the one he trusted like no other.
"What's wrong with me?" he whispered painfully, nearly undoing the older man.
"It's your 100 proof cough medicine, Vin," Chris gentled, resting a hand on the shivering back. "Drinking does that to..."
"No... no..." Vin denied quietly, taking a shuddering breath and raising his head. Without pausing to breathe, he stared hard, right into Chris Larabee's soul. "Why didn't nobody want me?"
"What?" Chris blinked, his voice rose in jagged incredulation, as the painful stare drilled him.
"First Mama died... then I went to St. Francis... a place fer orphan boys... fer a little while... then it closed. They lined us up... folks came from all over the county." He paused, biting his lip. "the babies went first... and the big boys... then it was just a few of us. Hell, even the crippled boy got took. I was undersized and sickly... nobody wanted..." His deep breath warded off a sob and it took a full minute and Chris Larabee's hand on the back of his neck, then he continued. "...then that bastard farmer showed up... drunk... Lucas..."
Chris's blood turned to water when he felt the shudder in Vin's back and the lethal tone used to rid himself of the word 'Lucas'. Chris didn't know who the son-of-a-bitch was, it didn't matter. If he wasn't already dead, the lean gunslinger would choke the last breath out of him.
"Vin, you don't have to do this." Buck was worried about the painful trip into Vin's dark past. Vin didn't seem to hear him, his large, transfixed eyes and rocking motion had him far away.
"I tried, Chris..." He rasped, turning briefly and searching for the green eyes. He resumed his rocking, staring into the fire. "I tried hard, but it weren't ever good enough fer that bastard. Horses t'tend... fences t'mend... grain t'stack..." He scoffed, his voice hard, "damn things weighed as much as I did... fell the hell over every time I tried t'lift 'em"
Chris tensed as soon as he felt Vin's back muscles harden. He gripped both shoulders as the tracker continued, his voice much younger and far away.
"...it was dark in the cellar... I'd hear 'im walking... he's a big brute..." Vin coughed and made two fists." I knowed when it was comin'. Soon as they finished eatin'. I was jest the help, so I didn't matter none. I'd hear the chair scrape across the floor and... him walkin' t'the steps... there's a board by the cellar door... near m'mat."
Buck felt his stomach rebelling. The image of an undersized, scrappy Vin Tanner, sleeping on a filthy floor in the cellar made him sick. Too many children like Vin suffered at the hands of abusive adults. This was the first time he felt so repulsed- this time it hit home. He wanted to tear the bastard from limb to limb. He knew what was coming next and closed his burning eyes.
"...it hurt Chris... half the time's m'legs wouldn't work right after..." Vin paused, feeling the river build inside. "...spring come and he went north, to meet the orphan train. He got two big boys... he... he sold me... to a salesman fer some dishes..."
"Fuckin' monster..." Buck seethed, trying to quell the rage inside. He glanced briefly at Vin, whose face was a pale mask of pain and Chris, whose white, tense features were unreadable. Except the eyes... he saw the killer return, briefly and shuddered.
"I knew right off he's no good... ya know the kind, ya shake his hand then wanna wash up," he took a deep breath and eased his back into Chris's firm massage. "He did things, in the dark... b...b...bad things, Chris... I run off first chance..." he sobbed, letting twenty years of harbored secrets flood forth. He didn't fight Chris's arms when they wrapped around him, he let himself go. He was confused; wondering why it was so easy. He fought so hard to keep it hidden. Don't let them see you hurt... that was his mantra. But tonight he's nerves were raw and the ache in him was unbearable. He needed Chris and Buck.
Chris held onto the smaller man for all it was worth and let him ride out his storm. He didn't trust his voice, the horrid journey into the shadows of Vin's troubled past, left him numb. He was beyond anger, in a dangerous place, where there was no room for reasoning. He remained silent, rocking and holding Vin tightly against him. Buck's strong hand rubbed the shivering tracker's back. Finally, Chris pulled him away and tipped up the tear-streaked face. "Look at me, Vin," he said quietly, "They were fools Cowboy, every one of them. Wasting their time with mules," he choked, gripping both shoulders hard. "...when they could have had a fuckin' thoroughbred."
Buck swallowed hard, Chris's words and the look of emotion on Vin's face would melt ice. He smiled and winked at his oldest friend. He gave Vin's shoulder a tight squeeze and ruffled the tangled hair playfully, and stood up. Chris waited several minutes until Vin was ready and helped him stand. Vin's arm locked onto Chris's forearm and his smile told the leader all he needed to know. He returned it in full and returned to his bedroll.
Chris's heartfelt words slid inside easily and filled Vin with a warmth that he'd never encountered. He left the soft smile on his face as he resumed his sleep. Buck's strong words came back to him. Family... kin... care... six brothers... brothers...
""Let six strong cowboys come carry m'coffin
Let m'six brothers come to carry m'pall
Throw bunches of roses all over m'coffin
Throw roses to deaden the clods as they fall"
The voice was low and soothing, and both older men stood over the smiling tracker, unable to move. But then Vin had that effect on people who cared about him. Buck reached down and picked up the black duster, covering the lean body. He smiled and let his rich, warm voice sail through the night.
"We beat the drum slowly and played the fife lowly
And bitterly wept as we carried him along"
He paused as he saw Chris move to follow his lead, pulling the blanket up over Vin. Chris's voice blended in, and Buck paused, letting the unusually emotive blond complete the last, sweet refrain.
"For we all loved our comrade, so brave, young and handsome
We all loved our comrade, for he was so strong.."
"You rest easy, Son," Buck said, kneeling over the sleeping body and patting his back, "We got your back. That's what brothers do," he promised, rising and moving toward the fire.
"Now and forever, Cowboy," Chris hushed, brushing the damp hair from Vin's pale face. He saw the smile broaden and the deep sigh filled him.
Buck watched Chris walk to the river and gaze at the silver rippling pools on the water. Twice he watched Chris toss his head skyward and both hands clench in tight fists of rage. He flinched, feeling Larabee's pain. He knew Vin's painful testimony wounded the blond deeply. He pulled the cork on the bottle and waited. Finally the restless body dropped down by his side. He took a swig and handed it over to the pensive gunslinger.
"It hurts me too, Chris," Buck said quietly, reading the troubled mind, "hearing him spill his guts like that."
"I feel like a fucking vulture," Chris spat hostily, taking a long swig. His green eyes glowed as intensely as the embers in the fire before them. "Picking his soul apart like that... it just isn't right. He didn't offer it freely... Dammit."
Buck thought for a moment and stared deeply into the fire before replying. Chris was deeply wounded and nobody harbored pain like his oldest friend. He glanced briefly at the slight form beyond them, sleeping peacefully. That one scruffy, gutsy Texan could have such a profound effect on his otherwise unflappable friend, gave him a broad smile.
"Maybe he didn't Chris." Buck's voice was warm and tight. "But he spit it out... and maybe, just maybe, his load will be a little lighter to bear." He paused and took the bottle back. "...and if we helped him to ease that pain... then that is something I'm damn proud of. Okay?"
Chris took a lazy stare from darkness overhead to the brilliant oranges and reds reflecting on Buck's handsome profile. He envied the way Buck so easily conveyed emotions. With a single word or a joke or a hug or a slap on the back... he let it out, wore his feelings proudly. Not buttoned up inside, under layers of sac cloth.
"When did you get to be such a fucking genius?" Chris grinned, watching the slow smile forming.
"Hell, Son," Buck turned, drinking in the Larabee grin. "I was born to it." He paused and handed the bottle back, enjoying the ease that came with old friends. "Hey, you think Miranda will recognize me. I got a few things to show her."
"I'm sure they'll appreciate that at the old prostitutes home." Chris shot back.
"She wasn't that old," Buck chuckled, drinking in the relaxed face next to him.
"She got younger with every shot you drank. By the time you got... uh... displaced." Chris raised his eyebrow and heard Buck laughing. "She was a damn virgin again. You're hopeless Buck." He laughed, taking the bottle.
"Yeah, but ya love me, don't ya Pard!" Buck teased, slapping Chris's leg.
So they sat and reflected on days gone by. Of lost loves and old friends... of battlefields far and shootouts close by... of youth slipping past and middle age approaching. By the time they finally went to sleep, both men felt realized just how rare and lucky they were, to have such a rich, colorful tapestry of their lives, interwoven with a strong thread of brotherhood.
Normally, a beautiful day like this would have the tracker on his horse, riding the wind and smiling like the devil. He loved the outdoors, hell, it had been the only mother he'd ever known. So it was with a heavy heart he sighed and contemplated the pain of dying alone. He didn't remember being shot in the head, but the pain was unrelenting. His eyes would not open more than slits. He watched carefully as the darkened sky dissolved into blues and crimsons and Dawn unfurled her glorious cape. He moaned as his stomach woke up. He clutched his midsection and rolled onto his stomach. Now if he could just move his arms. Grunting and moaning as the slightest movement sent violent stabbing pain through his head, he managed to push himself onto his arms.
"Aw, hell..." he hissed, as he felt his stomach rebelling severely. He tried to move, but his legs wouldn't answer his silent call. He doubled over, gagging and found himself being lifted effortlessly. He would have looked to see who his rescuer was, save the fact he had to concentrate on his feet and containing the spill. Finally, he was dropped in the brush and tossed the little liquid that was in his stomach. The dry heaves were worse, and left him teary-eyed. He collapsed and it took several minutes for him to catch his breath. The arms were back, pulling him upright and offering a tin mug.
"Rinse, Slick."
That strong voice and gentle touch was soothing and familiar. His shaky stomach fell, he didn't want Buck to see him like this, did he? He wouldn't die alone, anyhow and somebody would bury him. Vin opened his mouth and took in the cool water. After rinsing and drinking some, he turned his head painfully. He tried to talk, but the effort was too much. Instead, he slumped back against Buck's broad chest and heard the rumbling laugh.
"...ain't funny..." Vin whispered, wincing.
"Depends on where you're standing," Buck advised, letting Vin rest for a moment. He had water boiling and he knew the peppermint tea would give comfort to the upheaval in Tanner's stomach. The headache... well that was another story. Once they got to Salerno, he could rustle up the ingredients for 'the cure'. The shaggy head painfully lifted and Buck winced at the pale skin and dark circles rimming the blood-shot eyes.
"Go away..." Vin rasped, pulling free. He let Buck raise him up and lead him to the river's edge. Buck sat him in the sun and disappeared for a moment. Vin kept his eyes closed and shivered in the cool, early morning breeze. He jumped slightly when a blanket was wrapped around him. He felt warmth near his hands and opened one eye a slit. He saw steam rising from a mug and took it.
"You sip on that, it's peppermint tea... good for what ails you." The older man advised.
Vin let it warm his hands, then offered back. "...no sense wastin' it... I ain't got much longer..."
"Huh?" Buck chuckled, watching the slits close and Vin nearly disappear inside the blanket. His head was tucked to his chest and the blanket covered his face. "Hey..." He tapped the hunched back and waited. He saw the head rise and a single blue eye appear and plead with him.
"I'm dyin' Bucklin."
Buck tried hard no to laugh at the woeful voice and serious face looking at him. He sat down next to the stricken figure and laid a supportive arm around the slumped shoulders. "Dyin' huh? That's tough luck for sure, Vin."
"...didn't think he shot m'head... couldda swore he missed... I got him... didn't I?"
"Sure did, Vin. Chris is gettin' him ready to tote into town."
"Chris?" Vin's head shot up. "Don't want him t'see me die, Buck..." He struggled to stand and felt the hand clamp down.
"You ain't dyin', Son," Buck disarmed, his tone warm. "You got a killer hangover is all. First time for everything."
"Yer lyin'," Vin accused, groping and fumbling until his hand made a painful journey over his tangled, curly head. No blood... no wound. He felt the mug nudged against his lips and he sipped it carefully. It was soothing and icy hot. He shivered as vague images appeared, of a fire... memories longburied bursting forth... anguish and tears... Buck and Chris next to him. "Aw, hell..."
Buck heard the painful rasp and saw the face flood with color. Memories of the evenings rambling, painful conversations were flooding back, no doubt. He sighed and chose his words carefully. He watched the large, sky eyes darting from side to side, only adding to the colorful face.
"Vin, there's no cause for that."
"The hell there ain't... ran m'mouth off like a damn washerwoman," he hissed, pulling his blanket closer.
"Hell, Vin.You ain't any different than the rest of us. Drinking too much loosens everybody's lips. If I had a dime for everytime I turned into a rambling fool, I'd be living the good life."
How much had he said? The foggy images were beginning to clear up and he recalled the emotional overflow vividly. He shrank even further in the blanket, sipping the tea and hoping it would all go away. Then the other feelings returned, of warm words and heartfelt sympathy. Buck strong voice and gentle touch, reassuring him and how good it felt. Chris barking at him and the strong tug in his gut that always came with the green-eyed fury. He raised his head tentatively and held out a wobbling hand to Buck Wilmington.
"Seems I recall gettin' a bit moist..." Vin croaked, ducking shyly, "...thanks Bucklin."
"Aw, shucks Vin," Buck teased, gripping the offered hand. "You ain't gonna cry again are you? You want another hug?" He leaned in and winked.
"Get the hell away from me!" Vin snarled, ducking and trying not to grin.
"Listen, Vin... that was stuff you needed to purge... and it stays here, okay?" he said, rising and watching the brown head bob once. "You ever need to talk about of that shit... me and Chris are here," he issued with a pat and left the muddled man. He saw Chris approaching and walked over to meet him. "Ready?"
"Yeah," the blond replied, his eyes trained on the silent figure huddled by the water. "How's he doing?"
"Poor boy thought he was dyin'." Buck shook his head. "Thought he got shot in the head." He turned somber and looked hard at Chris. "He's pretty shook up about last night... he's starting to remember. I'll make some coffee." He patted Chris's shoulder and heading for the fire.
Chris took a seat next to Vin and stared out over the river. For several minutes they sat side by side, silent and wary. The only noise over the gentle churn of the water, was Vin's parade of coughing and sneezing. Chris knew just how hard Vin was hit with his painful, alcohol-induced confession. He could feel the ripples of anger brewing in the younger man.
"You look like shit, Cowboy," he said quietly, keeping his eyes trained on the rushing water.
"...m'eyes is fried..." Vin whispered, peeking sideways at his best friend.
Chris let the small smile form at the sharpshooter's simple analogy. How many hundreds of mornings-after had he suffered through? "I reckon they are," he nodded and looked at the sad face, "You'll feel better once Buck gets some of 'the cure' in you. You okay to ride?"
Vin hesitated before answering. He took another sip of his tea and nodded slightly. "In a little bit. M'stomach is jumpin' 'round like a pauper in a cathouse."
"You do have a way with words, Vin." Chris smiled and then saw the full face, "It's cold down here. Get by that fire and warm up. Your damn lips are blue," he ordered, standing and pulling the younger man upright.
"Hah!" Vin grumbled. "Reckon they's worn out from flappin' together and blubberin'," his disgusted tone suggested of his discolored mouth. He'd come close before, but always was able to stop before the maudlin effects of alcohol changed his normal persona.
"It's done, Vin, leave it alone," Chris warned, "It was Buck and me."
"I know." Vin nodded, settling by the fire. "Still feel like a fool." He cursed and drained the rest of his tea.
"Damn Vin," Chris chastised, "We've all been drunk and done things we regret the next day. You're just a late bloomer."
"It ain't that."
Chris looked at the hardness in the blue eyes and saw the mouth form a grim line. Buck flinched as he handed Chris a cup of coffee and sat down beside him. He saw Chris wait Vin out, and applauded the older man's innate sense of the Texan. The curly head rose and the now thawing lips curling into a mask of self-loathing.
"Leave it alone!" Chris warned, reading the expression.
Vin sneered, eyeing the discarded bottle of 'medicine' evilly, "Reckon I put on quite a show fer that son-of-a-bitch. Stup..." His sentence was choked off by an iron like grip to his collar, closing around his throat. The man in black moved with cat like grace and hellish wrath shot forth from the green eyes.
"That's it, Vin! We did this last night. It's done, finished and buried. If I ever hear you use that filthy expression and I'll bust your fuckin' jaw. There's no shame in what you did, only in this disgusting self-pity. Get over yourself, already."
He threw Vin backwards, sending the smaller man into the dirt and stalked off. Buck shook his head watched Vin rise and hesitate. The angry blue eyes were torn between following the irate leader and heading back toward the river. He heard the Texan chuff angrily several times, hands riding his tense, slim hips. He rose and walked behind him.
"I know it's been a long ride, Vin," Buck issued in a hard tone, "But you gotta learn what trust means... and who to put stock in. Sharing your pain isn't a bad thing and you got to take that hand you're offered, it helps with the load."
"Ya done with them pearls o'wisdom?" Vin spat, pulling away.
"Not quite," Buck replied icily, grabbing Vin hard. "They don't come any finer than that man," He said slow and deliberate, turning the younger man and forcing him to look at the retreating black duster. "He's turned his soul over to you... you think on that 'pearl' and try not to choke on it." He shoved Vin towards the fire, "We're leaving in an hour, get by that fire and get yourself together."
Vin shuffled painfully to the fire and resisted the urge to vomit. He settled down and curled up on his side, letting the dancing flames lull him to sleep.Buck's words were driven hard into his gut, like rusty nails, they created a deep pain. Why was it so hard? Men like Chris and Buck were rare, he was damn lucky to have two such friends.
"Yer a damn fool..." He whispered, letting his eyes slide shut.
"He left an hour ago," Buck answered Vin's silent question. The younger man needed to sleep and Buck let him. Chris rode out immediately after his lecture to Vin and took the bodies with him. Buck noticed Vin was wearing his own pants and had Chris's borrowed ones rolled inside of his bedroll. "You all set?" he asked, and saw the head nod once and Vin slowly ease into the saddle.
It was a quiet ride, neither man offering conversation. Buck looked over several times, as Vin was leaving a trail of sneezes and coughs in his wake. He sure hoped that doctor was still in town. He'd feel better once Vin was in bed and resting. It wasn't long before the outskirts of town came into view. They left their horses in the livery. Buck took his saddlebags, rifle and bedroll and headed over to assist Vin, who was a striking color or greenish-gray.
"Thanks," Vin whispered, leading heavily on Buck. He never remembered feeling so sick. His head was throbbing so hard, it even hurt to blink. His throat was sore, his chest hurt and his stomach... He put a hand over it as it threatened to protest.
"You know Vin," Buck teased as they walked into the hotel, "You look cuter than a filly at a church social in that shade of green." He signed the ledger and took the key from the clerk. Chris was in the adjoining room. Buck led Vin inside and sat him on the bed. He saw Vin curl up and denied the ailing man's sojourn.
"Nuh-uh... not yet."
"...wanna die..."
"Sorry, Slick." Buck grinned at the painful voice. "I'll be right back. I'll get something to make you feel better."
Buck's long legs took him to the saloon first. He found Chris finishing a large sandwich and stood by the table.
"You all set?" Chris inquired, pushing his chair back.
"No... I'll get what I need from the store. You get a bucket and wait with Vin," he replied, "What'd the sheriff say?"
"Seems Old Davey had a bounty on 'im." Chris smiled, patting his pocket. "We're gonna have quite a party tonight. You up to it... Stud?" he teased, nodding his head upwards.
"Hey... did you see her?" Buck craned his neck.
"Oh yeah..." Chris smirked. "She's an armful of lovin' alright. Come on, I want to check on Vin."
Vin's arm shot out, mare's leg drawn, when a hand tugged at his ankle. "Good way t'get killed," he rasped, eyeing the black duster.
"Not without bullets."
"Dammit Chris..." Vin scowled, eyeing his empty chamber. He heard the clatter of the bullets at Chris dropped them on the table near the bed.
"Come on, Vin. It's time," the blond relayed, helping the sick man up.
"Hell, ya make it sound like I'm facin' the noose."
"You might wish you were," he imparted and saw Vin tense and shrink back.
"This is on the level right?" Vin wavered, eyeing the two co-conspirators. "Y'all didn't piss in that out back or somethin'?"
"Jesus, Vin!" Buck laughed and handed Vin a mug. "You'll wish you were dead for five minutes, then you'll have a nice long nap and then you'll feel a whole lot better. Go on," he coached, "take a deep breath and drink it down... one shot."
"What is it?" Vin squinted at the murky liquid.
"You don't want to know," Chris answered, pausing and meeting the blood-shot blues. "Trust me..."
Vin's head shot up and for a moment, Buck felt like he wasn't in the room with them. Their eyes locked and he saw Vin swallow hard. Chris's face was set in stone and his mouth a grim line. Vin nodded once, and Buck felt the tension roll off Larabee like a wave. He knew the release had nothing to do with the beverage in Vin's hand. Vin took a deep breath and drank fast. The two older men moved in unison. Chris held the bucket on the floor and Buck stood next to Vin.
Vin doubled over as the explosive pain erupted inside his gut. He tried to cry out, but all the air was sucked out of his lungs. His eyes watered and he groveled, clawing at the fire in his throat. He dropped to his knees and began to vomit. He felt Chris holding his hair back and rubbing his back. Only two words came into his mind.
Kill Buck... kill Buck... kill Buck..."
It seemed like forever to the suffering soul, but finally he finished. He felt a mug of water shoved in his hand and rinsed several times. A larger mug replaced it and he drank greedily. He felt Chris help him up and despite his agony, he timing was intact. He grabbed the colt that was lounging on the gunslinger's hip and pointed it.
"Whoa!!" Buck dropped like a rock and Chris's arm sent the potential danger towards the ceiling. "Before you shit your pants, Buck. It's empty," Chris grunted, fighting the flailing Texan. "I've had 'the cure', I know that bloodlust. How 'bout some help, here?" he gasped as Vin broke free and lunged for his target.
"Easy there, Son." Buck caught him as he passed out. With a deep sigh, he carried the young man to the bed. Chris tugged the boots off and between the two of them, they took off his soiled clothes. Buck pulled the quilt up and left a full canteen by the bed.
"Lay him on his stomach with his head over the edge," Chris ordered, gathering up the clothes. "I don't want him to choke."
"There isn't anything left," Buck answered, but did as ordered.
"How long?" Chris said, handing Buck the pile of clothes.
"Hard to say," Buck scratched his chin and took the bundle. "I had to adjust for his weight. Ten hours anyhow... We won't see them baby blues until supper. You look like you could use some sleep. Did you get any last night?"
"I'm fine," Chris denied, despite the fatigue.
"Here, I'll take them to the Chinese place on the edge of town," he noted of the laundry. "You see if there's a doctor around. He damn near sneezed himself back to Four Corners on the way in," he related, resting a hand on the slack sharpshooter's face. "He's a little warm."
"Alright." Chris nodded, "I'll see you back here later. I want to see if Josiah wired back."
It was a deep and dreamless sleep, the kind that you leave reluctantly. Vin sighed deeply and stretched. He coughed several times, wincing and grabbing his dry throat. He spotted the canteen and nearly drained it. Wiping his mouth, he stood tentatively and braced himself. Frowning, he relaxed. The headache was nearly gone and the upset stomach had disappeared. The cold lingered and his chest hurt, but that was livable. He padded over to the window and watched the twilight fall gracefully on the bustling town. He opened the window and felt the cool breeze kiss his face. He leaned out and saw lots of people walking up the main street of town. It was growing town, with several side streets and a long main corridor. He heard piano music and his now clear eyes saw the Ruby Slipper Saloon a block down.
"Yup..." He nodded and turned back. He saw the pile of clothes neatly folded and slid into them. Shucking his holster, hat and coat on, he left the room. His tender stomach gave a small mew and he patted it calmly. He was on his way to the Saloon for some dinner, when he heard a familiar deep voice, singing proudly. He glanced at the sign overhead and slipped inside.
"Hey, you look almost human again, Vin," Buck boomed, smiling broadly amidst a veil of steam. His broad chest glistened and his dark hair was slick, freshly washed and the face was clean shaven. Buck sure did love his hot baths. "How do you feel?"
"Reckon I'll live," Vin rasped, wincing and eyeing the empty room carefully.
"He's sleeping." Buck said of their missing member."He was running around all day, talking to the sheriff, wiring home, getting the horses cared for. Wore his old ass out."
"...my damn nightmares didn't help." Vin mumbled, patting his stomach. "Ya eat?"
"Yeah...me and Chris had a late lunch. You get your ass to the white house down the street. It has big green shutters. Doctor London is waiting for you." Buck picked up his watch, which was on the small wooden tubside table, along with his gun and a beer. "You best hurry, I told him you'd be there by six," he ordered, expecting an argument. Vin hated anyone fussin' over him, most especially doctors. But to his surprise, the younger man nodded and headed for the door.
"Don't get your ass shot up 'afore I get to buyin' ya the first round," Vin offered without turning. "Okay?"
"Vin Tanner using his own money to buy a round?" Buck used a highly incredulous voice. "Hell, it's gonna snow for sure."
"Fuck y'all Bucklin." Vin turned, a grin tugging his lips upright.
Buck saw the mischievous light in the blue eyes and drank it in. He nodded and resumed his singing as the smaller man slid out silently, heading for the physicians.
"I'm out..." Chris tossed his cards and picked up his full beer. He took a long draw and wiped the foam off his upper lip. The Ruby Slipper was a large, friendly tavern. The long oak bar, adorned with a gleaming brass rail, was fully occupied. The dozen tables were nearly full as well. Upstairs, the 'fairer sex' was busy at work, entertaining the rowdy male customers. A burly man tended bar, while a slighter, redheaded young man played a jangling tune on the piano. The blond watched Buck's eyes roving the saloon and he smiled.
"How fast can you run, Buck?" he teased, knowing the rogue was wary of Miranda. His memory of the 'well endowed temptress' was better left to days gone by. She'd grown in age and size and had her guns set on Buck.
"It ain't funny, Chris."
"The hell it isn't."
Vin paused outside and took a deep breath. Satisfied, that was the word for it. Belly full of good food and strong medicine, he was prepared to kick back a little. The doctor advised to finish all the medicine, and warned Vin about the lingering dangers of the lung infection. The medicine and herbal tea were potent. He had taken some of each after dinner and slept for several hours. He felt good. He waited and let his eyes roam the perimeter, his hand on his gun. Satisfied that no danger lurked, he cast a favorable glance to where Buck and Chris sat playing poker. Buck, of course, had two beauties draped on his relaxed frame. Vin eye's lit up and his smile widened.
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