Setting: OW
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.
Nathan was passing the telegraph office on his way to the saloon. Inside were a group of townspeople who didn't see him. Their words froze him in his tracks.
"... he'll be here in two days. He's a friend of George's from the Army. He's been wanting a change a pace."
"What's his name?"
"Miller, Doctor Richard Miller. He's been a surgeon in the Army for years."
"Thank God! This town needs a real doctor, before anyone else dies."
Nathan backpedaled. The cluster of concerned citizens made up his mind for him. They had a real doctor coming. They didn't want or need him any more. All the months he'd spent building up their trust, all the good he had done evaporated. He was angry, a dangerous, simmering resentment filling him. To hell with their ungrateful hides, he'd leave.
The cries of the newly dead, along with the taunting twins' harsh words, propelled him back to his office. He'd pack and stop to see Josiah, then head out.
He turned the corner and ran into something. He blinked and saw a man lying on the ground.
"Jesus, Nate!" Vin barked, rising from the dirt.
"I didn't see yuh." He tried to move past the tracker, but Buck's words came back to him. "Yuh need somethin', Vin?"
Tanner opened his mouth to reply, but he saw such a mask of rage looking back at him that he was left speechless. In all the time he'd known Jackson, he'd never seen such venom in the man's eyes. "I think I should be askin' ya that question. What's wrong?"
"I'm drownin', Vin, and I'm headin' for shore," he said. "I can't breathe here."
"Huh?" Vin puzzled, following the man's long strides toward the clinic. "I heard about Jim. I'm awful sorry, Nate."
"I don't want yuhr pity!" Jackson snapped only to have his arm gripped and his body spun around. The blue eyes weren't sympathetic, they were angry.
"I don't know what bug crawled up yer ass, but I didn't put it there. Don't ya ever talk t' me like that again."
Nathan stared hard at the other man for a moment, then pulled free and continued up the stairs. He crossed the office to his room in the back. He didn't take much, just enough to hold him over for a while. He needed time to think. The walls were closing in here, and he couldn't get the voices out of his head. He turned to find not only Vin blocking his path, but Buck and JD as well.
"I'm leavin'!" he stated, trying to worm past the trio.
"Fer how long?" Vin demanded. "Ya got folks dependin' on ya. Ya just can't go an'-"
"I can do what I damn well please," Jackson replied hotly. "There's a doctor on his way; be here in a couple days. All you pretty white folks won't have to be polite no more."
"I'm gonna let that slide, because I know you've had a bad week," Buck said, his eyes hot. "But don't you ever trash talk like that again! Not here, not to us. Not ever!"
"Nathan, are you coming back?" Dunne asked, not liking the uncomfortable silence.
"I'm quittin', JD. I'm done. I'll be back for my things." He saw Vin's confused look and paused. "Yuh got a problem?"
"No." Vin leveled a cold stare on the other man. "Take care o'yerself. While yer out there, keep yer eyes open. I'm missin' a friend. If ya come across 'im, ya give 'im this." Vin offered his hand, then gripped the healer's shoulder. "Ya tell him t' come home. His name's Nathan Jackson. I used t' know him."
Nathan locked onto the blue eyes for a moment and then departed.
Josiah wasn't at the church so Jackson left a note. Then he rode long and hard until his horse was spent. He camped by the river, cooking a fat rabbit he caught over a fire.
A song came back to him, one he'd heard many times during the war. He lifted his eyes to the bright moon and sang in a low, soulful voice. "When this dreadful war is ended I will come again to you. Till me dearest 'ere we sever, tell me, tell me you'll be true. Though to other scenes I wander twill you memory pure and bright. In my heart will ever linger, shining with undying light. Do not weep love, sit beside me, whisper gentle words of cheer. Be not mournful now my darling, let me kiss away each tear."
He felt the tears forming, built upon the last days of agony. He left them fall, bitter drops of penance burning on his cheeks. He felt his chest tighten and continued the song, recalling the battlefields and bodies.
"On the gory field of battle your sweet voice will nerve my hand. And when weary sad or wounded your fair image near me stand. In my visions, like some angel you will turn my grief to bliss. On my pale and fevered forehead I will often feel your kiss. Our dear native land's in danger and we'll calmly bide the time till this dreadful war is over and the bells of peace shall chime."
"Hangin' up the scalpel for a stage?"
Nathan turned as Josiah sat down wearily, warming his hands on the fire. He lifted the coffee pot and poured himself a cup. He'd been briefed by the others and after Vin and Chris were filled in, he had left to find his friend.
"I don't know, Josiah," Nathan admitted, staring at the dancing flames. "I feel all used up ... got nothing but holes inside. Ain't never felt so empty, not since my ma died."
"For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul? What shall a man give in exchange for his soul?" he quoted Matthew 16:26.
"Right now, I'd give just about anything." Nathan's shoulders slumped. "Them holes ain't the kind food can fill."
"I know," Sanchez said from experience. "I've been down that road a time or two, my friend. I'm still searching for the answer. But giving up the quest is something I cannot do, nor should you."
"They've got a doctor coming."
"They?" Josiah queried, dividing the rabbit between them. "Who exactly are 'they'?"
"Don't do this, Josiah, I'm in no mood for yuhr philosophy," he said, eating the succulent meat. "I heard them talkin' ... spoutin' their gratefulness about 'a real doctor' coming and 'nobody else dyin.'"
"Is that all you're worth?" Josiah probed. "You cannot measure a man by his profession. His code, what he truly is, is more important. It's what's inside, brother - your heart, your soul and your spirit. That's what you�ve lost. You find that, you'll find your answer."
"Great!" Nathan spat back, eyeing the dark horizon. He shoved the empty plate away, reaching for the bottle of whiskey he's brought with him. "I suppose yuhr gonna be glued to my side while I look?"
"Unless I get a marriage proposal." The preacher grinned, seeing Nathan's small smile.
"Guess I'm stuck with yuh then." Jackson took a swallow of the liquid and held his hand out, passing the bottle and his thanks. Something about the ex-preacher's wide grin warmed him. They shared the fire, letting the flames bask them in their warmth.
"I ever tell you about Miss Rosa Maria DeBella?" Josiah stretched out, laying down on the bedroll. "Now that was a fine cut of a woman. I was eighteen, she was about thirty. Lord, what a body..."
"It's gonna be a long night," Nate moaned, dropping his hat over his face and shaking his head.
"Anybody seen Vin?" JD called as he entered the saloon. Chris and Buck both looked up and Ezra stood. "That new doctor's here. He's over at the clinic. He checked my arm and I mentioned Vin's throat. He should see him."
"Yeah," Chris agreed. "He's still in bed. I'll get him."
"I was going to my room, anyway, I'll rouse him," Ezra offered, nodding and departing. He tapped on Vin's door when he reached it, then opened it. "Vin, are you awake?" He eyed the curled up sleeper and frowned. There was no sign of flesh, bone or hair, just a slim lump in the bed, buried under a thick quilt.
Ezra strode over and pulled the blanket down, pressing his hand against the tracker's too-red cheek. A moan escaped Tanner and his body shivered, his teeth chattering. "Mr. Tanner, you're burning up with fever. The new physician has arrived. You should let him examine you."
"Ez?" Vin croaked, peeling an eye open. His head was pounding, his throat so painful he didn't want to speak. He had no appetite and he had been throwing up the water he'd been drinking. The bone-shaking chills and total lack of energy only added to his misery. "I ain't feelin' s' good ... can ya get Nate fer me?"
The gambler sighed and studied the confused expression. He gently eased the man up, feeling the violent shivering. Vin was not only fully dressed in two shirts and a vest, but he wore his hide coat as well. "How convenient you have your best jacket on," he teased, helping the ill man to stand. "Shall we go see the doctor?"
Standish led Vin to the clinic, guided him to a cot and sat him down, wrapping a blanket around his quivering shoulders. He gave Vin a pat on the back and went to the front of the room where he found a tall man with graying hair and spectacles. He was well dressed and sported an expensive watch.
"Good day, I'm Ezra Standish, you must be Dr. Miller."
"At your service," he said and came forward, extending his hand. "What can I do for you?"
"It's not myself, but Mr. Tanner who needs your skilled hands. He has a fever, chills and pain when swallowing."
"Hmm..." The doctor approached the bent over tracker, eyeing the rough clothes, unshaven face and unkempt appearance. He shook his head over the buffalo hide coat. "If you'll disrobe, I will examine you, Mr. Tanner."
"Who the hell are ya?" Vin rasped, jumping up and letting the blanket fall away. But he moved too fast, the lack of food and fever leaving him dizzy. He felt two hands force him back down onto the cot.
"It's Dr. Miller," Ezra explained, tugging off the offensive coat. "How many layers of clothing are you wearing?" He fingered the outside vest, only to have his hand slapped.
"None of yer fuckin' business. Get the hell away from me, Ezra!" Vin squirmed, eyeing the stranger and trying to escape. "Who the hell are ya? I want t' see Nate!"
"I've already told you," Standish said, his patience wearing thin, "this is the new doctor. He's taking over for Nathan. He can't help you if you don't cooperate."
"I won't bite, son," the older man advised, eyeing the ruffian. "Why don't you take off your shirt. Uh, shirts, and I'll get my bag?" He moved forward, eyeing the clear signs of fever. "Can I have a quick look? Open up?"
Vin stared hard at the middle-aged man's face, then he eyed Ezra, scowling and rubbing at the razor blades that had taken up residence in his throat. He couldn't go on much longer; he needed relief. Reluctantly, he tipped his head back and opened his mouth.
"It's what I suspected." The physician eyed the swollen, inflamed tonsils and the sacs of puss behind them. "You need to have your tonsils out. They're infected and the inflammation is causing your fever and pain."
"Out?" Vin pulled back, his gaze narrowing.
"Surgically removed," the doctor said, patting the tracker's stiff shoulder and turning. "I'll get my bag. If you'll get undressed..."
"Ya ain't cuttin' m' throat open. I'm gettin' the hell outta here." He bolted, falling right on the unsympathetic gambler, who shoved him back onto the bunk.
"You will stop carrying on like a spoiled child. Of course he won't cut your throat. He uses a special tool and removes them from the back of your throat - through your mouth. It's done all the time. I had mine removed as a child." He spoke sharply, seeing the rebellion lingering in Tanner's fever-bright eyes. "Fine, have it your way. I'll get Mr. Larabee."
"Aw hell!" Vin sighed, watching the doctor move away. He nodded reluctantly and began to unbutton his top shirt.
Ezra left and to update the others.
Vin removed his vest and shirts, then took off his undershirt. He wrapped the blanket around his freezing body and eyed the empty room. "... the hell is he?" he muttered, rising and tiptoeing to the outer area. Not seeing the doctor, he moved back farther to the pantry where the medicine cabinet was. His eyes widened in shock. The doctor was drawing something from a green bottle into a syringe. Before Vin could protest, thinking it was for him, the needle disappeared into a vein in the doctor's arm.
Tanner's eyes narrowed and he saw the physician sit back in the chair, his eyes glazed. Something cold crept inside the fevered man and he got scared. He always trusted his instincts and they were shouting at him that this man was not to be trusted. He wasn't letting him come anywhere near his throat with a blade. He backed up and hit the cabinet, causing all the bottles to rattle.
"You shouldn't be up." The doctor's voice was sultry and languid as he floated in a sea of bliss.
"I'm leavin'," Vin declared unsteadily. "I changed m' mind." His gaze slide to the bottle.
"It's just a tonic. It's good for energy and gives me strength," Miller lied. He saw the blue eyes study him and felt his own fear rising. Without exchanging a word, they both knew the score. He rose and moved quickly, taking advantage of the younger man's unsteady, fevered state. He grabbed a bottle of ether and tossed some onto a rag.
"Get the hell away from me. Yer crazy. Ya ain't cuttin' me." Vin fell hard, landing on his knees as the room spun around. The lack of food and high fever had taken his strength away. He felt a pressure on his tender throat as hands closed around it from behind. He fought weakly against the foul smell, biting the hand, which dropped the rag. But the damage was already done and he couldn't move. Vin was hauled up, the lack of air sudden and intense. He felt himself slipping away as his body was laid on the cot. He was dazed and felt sick.
The doctor eyed the stuporous patient and grinned. "Of course, they are so badly infected, death is always a risk," he said, tapping the tracker's slack cheek. He bent over Tanner, watching the fear in the helpless man's blue eyes. "Not to worry, my good man, my dirty secret will die with you."
Miller pulled the half-conscious man's neck back, letting Vin's head drape over the edge of the cot. He got his tools and sat on a stool behind the tracker's head, gripping it between his knees. He opened Tanner's jaw wide and clamped it, securing his tongue. He saw the fear again in the bobbing Adam's apple. He smiled at the fevered man, thinking about the tonsillatome. He didn't have it with him; it was in his room at the hotel with his other tools.
Vin's heart hammered, his tongue was being bitten by a metal bar of some kind that caused him to gag. He shifted and saw blurry facial features above him.
"Shhh!" The doctor pulled the damp hair from the young man's flushed face and sighed. Seeing the fear in the half-closed eyes and felt a surge of power. His helpless victim was before him. He bent low and chuckled, stroking the damp cheek. "It will be over soon. Don't make it harder on yourself."
He picked up a probe and deftly moved his fingers, barely touching the back of Tanner's throat. The tracker jumped and moaned.
Grinning as the adrenaline rushed through his veins, Miller reached for a scalpel. He ignored the weak, frantic moans of denial coming from the young man, his smile growing as took in the glint of silver. Caressing the tool, he turned his attention to his victim's exposed throat.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Chris Larabee yelled, seeing Vin's body jump. His gaze quickly took in the tracker's fist, balled into the fabric, the veins bulging on Vin's neck. His eyes burned, taking in a horrific thing clamped to Tanner's jaw. But it was the damp, half-open eyes, full of pain and fear that nearly caused Larabee to explode. "Christ, he's still awake!" His voice was incredulous. Then he spotted something silver in Vin's mouth. "Get the hell away from him," he ordered.
The doctor didn't move his hand, but he clearly saw that his man was very dangerous. He would have to proceed very carefully. He removed the scalpel, spotting the gun. "That won't be necessary. I was only examining the inflamed area." He deftly slid the scalpel into his pocket. "The tool I need is still packed in my room. This is required to keep his tongue in place," he said in response to the hot glare at the clamp.
"Get it out of his mouth," Chris ordered. "Now!"
"Very well." Miller knew the ether would prevent the young man from talking. He took off the device and stood. "You must be Mr. Larabee," he said, recalling the fancy dressed man's warning.
"I'll be your worst nightmare if you let anything happen to him," Chris warned venomously, staring the man down as he moved to let him pass. Ezra had told them about Vin's problem and Chris was glad he had acted so quickly. Something about this man made him wary. He pulled Vin back onto the cot as the door slammed. He eyed the tracker's half-opened eyes with worry. Vin had been on his feet and sassing Ezra just a few minutes ago. "You okay, Cowboy?" He sat Vin up and slapped him forcefully, then sniffed. "What the hell's that smell?"
The fog lifted, the monster had left and through fevered eyed Tanner saw his redemption. He had heard every word Miller had uttered and panicked. He snaked out his hand, grabbing Chris's arm and trying to speak. His tongue felt thick and wouldn't work, leaving him making only grunts.
"What?" Larabee asked, staring at the naked fear looking back at him. It was a look so rare for Tanner that it frightened him. "Did he hurt you?" He watched the man's head dip once and felt the fingers digging into his arm. "Son-of-a-bitch!" he swore, shoving Vin's arms into his coat and grabbing the shirts.
The pupils of Vin's eyes told Chris that the tracker had been drugged. "He give you something? To knock you out?"
Again the head nodded.
"What's he hiding?"
He saw Vin panic again and draped an arm across his neck and snagged the loose, tan pants with his free hand. "Okay, Vin, we'll go to my room and get it squared away."
Larabee used the back door to the boarding house, easily settling Vin into his bed. He gave him cold coffee and continued to tap his face. Finally, he sat the dazed man upright. The sky-blue eyes were frantic, darting past Chris to the door.
"Don't let 'im ... cut me," Vin pleaded, his voice hoarse and barely audible. "He ... shot ... somethin' in ... in..."
"In you?" the blond asked, gripping both of Tanner's shoulders.
"No ... no," Vin replied, shaking his head, sighing and sagging.
"Easy, Vin, lay down."
"No," Vin protested, gripping Larabee's shoulder. "His arm ... green bottle ... syringe ... said it was ... . a t-t-t-tonic ... his eyes ... funny." Vin coughed and shuddered until his teeth began to rattle and felt himself lowered onto the bed.
"Ezra said those bad tonsils have gotta come out, Vin. The infection could kill you."
"Nate," the tracker pleaded in a wispy rasp, all his energy spent.
"You sure?" Chris inquired. "Miller's an Army surgeon. Maybe he just has strange methods, or-"
"I ... don't ... trust ... 'im," Vin declared, drilling the other man's eyes intensely and gripping his arm.
"Okay, Vin, that's good enough for me." Larabee sighed, feeling as uneasy as Vin. The sight of the silver tool in Tanner's mouth had left him wary as well. He gave the tracker's shoulder a tug and stood. "I'll find Nathan. I know where he went."
"Chris!"
"What?" He saw the naked fear again.
"What if ... he gets me?"
"I won't let that happen," Larabee promised. "I'll tell the others."
"Bucklin ... here?" Vin asked, eyeing the empty room.
"He will be. You rest easy, we've got your back." He covered Vin and walked to the window. He saw JD and waved him over. When the young sheriff appeared under his window, Chris eyed the surrounding area carefully. "Get the others."
Once they were all in his room, Larabee updated them. They agreed to take shifts, watching over Vin until Chris returned with Nathan and Josiah. Ezra volunteered to parley with the city council members who hired Miller. Plying them for information would be the easiest way to get more background information.
Satisfied that Vin's back was safe, Chris gave a final glance at the tracker and then departed.
Ezra was on his way to the telegraph office, having gathered enough ammunition for a search. The more he had heard about the "good doctor" the less he trusted him. Vin's instincts would prove true, he was sure of that.
He saw the immaculately groomed man step out onto the boardwalk a few feet away.
"Good afternoon," he greeted and nodded to Mary Travis, who was speaking to the physician.
"There you are," Dr. Miller said, obviously flustered about the missing man. "That young man you brought to see me is missing. I left him with your Mr. Larabee and he took him."
"Mr. Tanner does not belong to anyone, not to Mr. Larabee and most certainly not to me!" The Southerner glared at Miller. "Furthermore, Mr. Larabee did not abscond with anyone. Vin has decided to wait a while before undergoing treatment."
"He's very ill. You're in no position to make a decision like that."
"I didn't," Standish said. "Mr. Tanner had reached the age of majority and it is his choice. Good day to you. Mary." He shifted so his back was to the doctor and gave her an intense stare, hoping she caught on. He went to the General Store, stalling until the frazzled doctor left. Undoubtedly, Miller would find out by asking the right people that Chris had a shack outside of town. That might buy them some time. If he thought Vin wasn't in town, he might be safe for the time being.
Finally, Ezra went to the telegraph office and sent his wires. He knew the clerk Jimmy well and tipped him generously.
"You bring me the replies directly, understand?"
"Yessir!" the eager youth said and grinned.
The small cabin was tucked away just off the river. Abandoned long ago, it was clean and sturdy. It was the right place for Nathan to think. And Josiah was good company, perhaps the only person who really understood him. He didn't know why, but he trusted the large man. Josiah knew when to back off and had made himself scarce over the last couple days, disappearing into the woods with a Bible tucked under his arm.
Nathan sighed and went outside, watching the approaching sunset. He had thought long and hard about his life, but weighing the factors was difficult. How did you assay your soul?
He thought about Rain and her family. He cared deeply for the young woman and knew he would be welcome in the Seminole Village. But that was too close to the others. Vin visited frequently, as did Josiah. It would be too awkward.
He stared at his hands, turning them over again and again. How many lives had passed through them? Healing was in his blood now; it would be too hard to deny it.
Could he start over again? He shook his head; the answer wasn't clear.
"I don't smell my dinner."
Nathan smiled, welcoming the preacher's return. He glanced sideways as Josiah stepped up by his side.
"Then I guess yuh better get in there and start cookin'!"
"I was thinkin' about fried fish," Sanchez said seriously.
"I was thinking about a thick steak," Nathan mused, spotting the fish dangling from the other man's hand. �We all got our crosses to bear."
"You been peekin' into the good book?" Josiah teased and then frowned, cocking his head. "We've got company, brother."
Nathan retreated inside, returning with a shotgun, but Josiah pushed it down.
"No need for that; it's Chris." He strode into the clearing as the large black horse appeared. "What's wrong?" he asked.
"Vin's sick." Chris slid down and took his empty canteen to the river to fill it. He took a long drink, then corked it tight. "Get saddled, we don't have time to waste. He needs surgery and-"
"Didn't that doctor get there?" Nathan asked, frowning and wondering about the tracker. "Sick how?"
"Real sick." Larabee sighed, rubbing his neck. "It started when we were out of town. His throat was bothering him then."
"He should've said somethin'," Jackson said without thinking. A moment later Larabee's irate face was inches away from his and the healer felt a finger jabbing against his chest.
"He tried, you sent him away!" Chris growled. "Now's he's got a fever and something wrong with his tonsils."
"Tonsils?" The dark-skinned healer clenched his eyes shut. "Infected ... aw hell, that ain't good. He could die if-"
"Then get your ass on a horse and get moving."
"He needs a doctor," the healer said, moving away and seeing the blue eyes again in his mind's eye.
"He needs you. He's asking for you, Nathan. He doesn't trust this new doctor ... and I don't either."
"Why, Chris?" Josiah saw the intense stare.
"Ezra got Vin over there and then came to tell us what was going on. He told us this doctor needed to take out Vin's tonsils. Something about inflammation and puss." He paused, recalling the strange sight he had found in the clinic. "When I got there and he was torturing Vin."
"Torturing?" Sanchez and Jackson asked at the same time.
"Vin's head was hanging over the side of the bed with some fuckin' clamp holding his tongue down. Miller had a tool or something way down in the back of his throat."
"From what I remember, that's about right," Nathan said, recalling the surgeries he'd witnessed.
"Oh really?" Chris snapped. "With the patient awake?"
"What?" Nathan recoiled.
"Vin was awake, and that bastard was up to something. I could smell it," he spat out. "I hustled Vin outta there to my room. The son-of-a-bitch drugged him. Vin caught him injecting himself with a syringe, said it made his eyes look funny." He turned to Nathan. "Look, Vin doesn't trust him, and neither do I. I don't want him anywhere near Vin, especially with a knife. Now, let's go!"
"I can't."
"That's funny," Larabee said and spun around. "'Can't' isn't a word Vin knows. He didn't think 'can't' that day a lynch mob nearly strung you up. He didn't say 'I can't' then. You're standing here 'cause he gave a damn. He wants you; he trusts you." He paused and sighed, dropping the acidic tone in his voice. "He needs you, Nathan."
Jackson walked slowly, taking in the words and seeing the scales again. He thought about Josiah's words and that Bible. Was this God's answer to his prayers? He nodded slowly, then packed and took the reins of his horse from Larabee. They exchanged a long glance and the blond nodded before retreating to his own horse.
The metal teeth of the clamp bit deeply into his mouth, lacerating his tongue. Blood filled his mouth, choking him and running down his extended jaw. His eyes bulged as the face of the evil doctor appeared. A long knife was in Miller's hand and it came lower and lower and...
"Nooooo!"
"Jesus!" Buck jumped up and grabbed the glistening body lying in the bed. Long dark curls were plastered to Tanner's face and neck. Blue eyes were wide, lost in a fever-induced nightmare. He could feel Vin's heart beating rapidly against his hand which was on the tracker's soggy flannel shirt.
"He's gonna kill me ... fuckin' cut m' throat," he rasped, trying to escape.
Wilmington grimaced and cupped Tanner's jaw in his hand, shaking the man's head gently. "Vin! Vin, wake up. It was a dream, just a dream. You with me?" He saw the man's eyes blink and narrow, then roam around the room. Then they focused on his face and a wave of relief blossomed.
"Bucklin," Vin whispered painfully, every word like he was swallowing hot, jagged shards of glass.
"Yeah, Slick, it's me." Wilmington waited until the man's breathing slowed down and his damp head rose. "Look at me, Vin. He won't get you. I won't let him. Ezra and JD are on guard outside, okay?"
"Sorry," Vin mumbled, embarrassed.
"For what?" Buck asked him, ruffling the wet locks as he hid his concern. The tracker's fever was rising quickly and he wondered how much longer the man could remain conscious. The medical book Ezra had gotten from Nathan's had explained about how dangerous the infection was. "How 'bout we cool you down some?" He tossed an apple at the door and Ezra stepped in.
"You rang?"
"His fever's up," Buck said, peeling off the wet flannel shirt. "Mix some more alcohol into that basin of water."
Vin heard the voices and tried to cooperate, but he couldn't sit up, couldn't lie down, couldn't seem to do anything, his legs and arms too heavy to lift or coordinate. His throbbing head and sick stomach just added to the misery he felt. He sagged against Buck's shoulder, glad for the support. He saw a fancy silk vest and jerked back, the blurry face unrecognizable.
"Get 'way," he murmured, then heard Buck's laugh.
"Now that ain't nice, Vin. Ezra's trying to help. It ain't every day he offers to give you a bath."
"You might do well to have a word with your barber," Standish added, trying to find a spot where Vin could focus on him. Buck's eyes didn't lie, their tracker was dangerously ill.
"Ezra?" Vin coughed, hissed and cried out. "Nate?" he whispered. "Hurts ... hell ... are ya?" He tried to peek past the two men.
"Shit!" Buck swore, waiting for Ezra to finish swabbing Vin's back. Then he let the gambler support Tanner from behind and washed Vin's chest, neck and face. The sluggish blue eyes tried to followed his hands but lagged behind. "All done, Vin." He eased the man down and covered him up. The blue eyes were just slits now, his breathing irregular.
Both men were worried.
Vin's hand reached out, grabbing onto the ladies' man's wrist.
Buck recognized the silent thank you and gently tapped the man's scarlet-streaked cheek. "You�re welcome, Vin." He rose and took the flask from Ezra. "I hope to hell they hurry - he's slipping."
It was nearly midnight when the door opened. Chris heard two guns click and put his hands up defensively.
"It's me, Buck," he warned. "Turn the lamp up. Vin?" He moved to the bed and sat on the edge. "Vin, can you hear me? I got Nate ... Vin?" He tapped the wet cheek to no avail. "He's on fire..." he noted of the man's hot flesh.
"Let me see!" Nathan took the spot Chris left, feeling the tense gunslinger's leg at his hip. He felt Vin's glands and neck, took his pulse and then opened his mouth. "Sweet Jesus..."
"What do you need?" Josiah asked, his hands on his hips.
"I don't got one ... it's called a- It's a special tool that cuts the tonsil and catches it. Then you cautertize the incision and fight the fever."
"Can't you just cut it out?" Chris asked, frustrated, annoyed, tired and very worried. Vin looked awful and he wanted that fixed.
"No, he'd bleed to death." Nathan sighed, wiping Vin down with a wet cloth. "I need a ... a..."
"Tonsillotome."
"Yeah." He nodded and turned. "JD, how'd yuh know that?"
"It's right here." The youth walked over and deposited a book on the table.
Nathan rose and walked over, eyeing the drawing and the large description of the surgery and its aftermath.
"Yeah, that's it." He eyed the silver tool with loops on either end, and finger holes.
"We'll get it," Larabee snapped. "He can't afford to wait."
"I told yuh, I ain't got one."
"That doctor does. He told me he did." Larabee's head snapped up. "JD, what room is-?"
"Fourteen. Right down the hall." The young sheriff nodded to Buck. "Come on..."
Five minutes later, the pair reappeared, each carrying a bag.
"He wasn't in," Buck said, opening a large, square black leather bag. "Jesus, look at all these tools..."
"It's a first rate set-up," Jackson agreed, eyeing the instruments.
"Here it is." JD unrolled a smaller leather valise and held it out.
"Good!" Nathan took it and turned as Josiah appeared with a bowl of steaming water. "Yuh scare me sometimes, Preacher!" he said, amazed by how Josiah could get one step ahead of him. He dropped the tool into the water and went to prepare his patient. He moved the bed, easing Vin's head over the edge. He motioned for Chris to come closer and draped a large piece of cotton over Vin's chest and neck. He held out the retractor and saw the gunslinger blanch. "Is this what yuh saw in his mouth before?"
"Yeah," Chris said, shivering.
"It holds his tongue and mouth in place, like this." He gently tilted the tracker's head back, opened his slack jaw and applied the clamp. "That way I can see clear down to the back of his throat."
"I wish I couldn't."
Nathan smiled at the soft concern in the blond's voice. He saw Chris swallow hard and gently tapped Vin's arm. "I'm gonna snip out that mess and then cauterize the wound. Then comes the hard part - fightin' that fever. Okay?"
"Yeah," Chris said and nodded, uneasy about how vulnerable Vin was in this position. "But I don't like it..."
"I don't either, Chris," Nathan admitted. "Josiah, stay, the rest of yuh, get on outside."
"Where is the good doctor?" Ezra asked, holding the door for Buck.
"Haven't seen him, but he'll turn up. I bet he rode out to Chris's. He thinks Chris kidnapped Vin," the ladies' man answered.
They waited down the hall in Ezra's room, three of them sitting and Larabee pacing. Finally the door opened and Josiah stepped inside. But before he could update them, Chris shot past him.
"Nathan?" Chris asked, striding over to the bed. The healer was washing his hands and picked up a towel.
"If we can get that fever to break, he's got a good chance."
"Get some of that ditchwater!" Chris barked, dropping down onto the chair next to the bed.
"I can't. He can't swallow anything until tomorrow afternoon, at the earliest. And then it's only cold liquids until his throat is less tender. He'll be in a lot of pain, and I mean real pain. I'm gonna get some morphine from my office. He'll need it."
"The fever?"
"We'll keep bathin' him and prayin'," the healer said, turning as his shoulder was tapped. He saw the glint of the gold tooth first, followed by a flashy silver flask.
"Welcome back, Mr. Jackson," Ezra saluted.
"Thanks." Nathan took a long swig, not bothering to hide his trembling hands. "I never did that before ... seen it a few times, but..."
"You did fine," Chris said, his gaze leaving Vin's face long enough to catch the healer's dark brown eyes. He held his hand out and gripping Jackson's strongly. "Thank you, Nathan."
"This room's got too many bodies in it," the ex-slave complained. "Yuh all leave ... I got a patient that needs me." He saw a single sandy eyebrow rise in a challenge. "Well, almost all of yuh ... go on now."
"Get some sleep, Nate, you've earned it," Chris advised, nodding to the other bed. He watched the weary man sit down on the cot and drop his head into his hands. He saw the man's shoulders moving and swallowed hard, recalling the painful testimony Buck and the others had given him about the horrid week the man had endured. Now, in this small room, having just saved a friend's life, maybe the scales were balanced again.
He left Vin long enough to cross the room and rest a single hand on a shaking shoulder. He didn't say a word, but he remained there until the sobbing ended. With a final pat, he watched the healer fold up in the bed.
He resumed his seat, watching as his best friend's chest rose and fell.
Buck leaned into the room about eight a.m. He smiled at the craggy face blinking at him. "Nice, you could haunt a house."
"Shut up, Buck," Chris hissed, wincing and rubbing his back.
"You stayed all night?" The rogue shook his head. "How's he doing?"
"Better, I think." Chris sighed. "I damn near rubbed the skin off of him, but I think his fever's coming down. He's been moaning for about an hour now. Where's Nate?"
"He left to get some breakfast, a hot bath and some medicine. Go on, me and Vin will be fine."
"Yeah," Chris sighed, hungry and very weary himself. "If he gets worse..."
"If he farts I'll get you, okay?" Buck shook his head and sat down. JD appeared a while later, having spent the morning visiting Mike.
"How's he doing?" Buck asked him.
"Good. Josiah's out there with him. He was sorry to hear about Vin. He looks a little better."
"Yeah, he's cooler." Buck paused as Vin moaned and his eyes opened a crack. "Hey there..." He sat on the edge of the bed. "Nathan took your tonsils out. You've got a fever to fight, but you're gonna be okay. Vin, you hear me?"
Tanner saw the blurry forms and tried hard to focus, but the only thing he could identify was the mustache. Buck was here. Then the pain exploded in his throat. He'd never felt such pain. He moved from side to side, silently screaming, tears streaming down his cheeks.
"Get Nathan!" Buck barked. "And get Chris!" he hollered after the fleeing sheriff. "Easy, Vin, I know it hurts. God..." He winced, watching the slim man writhe. The tears running down Vin's face nearly undid the rogue. He tried to keep the tracker still until he was shoved aside.
"What's wrong?" Chris demanded, looking human again. The bath, shave, meal and nap had done wonders. His expression froze when he saw the Texan, wracked with agony. "Vin, Nate's gonna give you something for the pain. Where the hell is he?" he spat at Buck.
"On his way!" the ladies' man replied. "I've never seen him in such a bad way..."
"Vin?" Nathan pushed his way past Wilmington only to hit a wall of muscle. "Chris, move, I can't get at him ... Chris!"
Larabee moved reluctantly.
The healer sat on the edge of the bed and pushed the tracker's shoulder's down. "Vin, I know it hurts like hell. I'm gonna fix that."
"Well, what the hell are you waiting for?" Larabee hissed, the sight of the agony his best friend was enduring unbearable. "Give him some morphine!"
"I can't find it," Nathan lamented. "I had a half a bottle locked in the cabinet, but it's gone. I ain't got no more."
"A green bottle?" Chris growled and Nathan nodded. "That fuckin' bastard! That's what Vin saw. He said the syringe came from a green bottle. That son-of-a-bitch is addicted to morphine."
"Old soldier's disease." Jackson shook his head. "A lot of guys got hooked on morphine after the war."
"Vin saw him and he tried to silence him." Buck shook his head. "I'm gonna find the good doctor and have a little chat."
"Wait a minute!" Nathan looked up, keeping his hands on his patient's shoulders. "He'll have some. He has to; he's an addict."
"I'll go look," Chris said, nodding at Buck. "Come on..."
"Feast your eyes," Ezra drolled in disgust, standing in the doorway of the doctor's room. "He must have crawled in during the night."
"Is he dead?" Chris asked, kicking one of the man's legs. Miller was on the floor, his shirt off and his legs splayed wide. One arm was tied with a piece of cord, a syringe imbedded in the fold at the middle of his arm. He was clammy and pasty-faced, his eyes shut.
"No," the gambler said. "More's the pity."
"I found it!" Chris said, pulling a full bottle from a small wooden cabinet. "Get rid of him. Put him in jail before I finish what he started."
"Now, Chris," Buck oozed, cocking his head, "that wouldn't be very neighborly. What about those fine, upstanding folks who decided to ride Nate out of town on a rail and invited the good doctor here? I'll bet they haven't all met him yet. Ezra, why don't we round them up and do a formal introduction."
"A splendid idea, Mr. Wilmington." The gambler grinned. "I'm sure they'll be as charmed as we are."
"I'm sure." Buck smiled, following the con man. "Don't let anybody in here!" he warned JD, who stood guard.
"Hold him down, Chris," Nathan ordered, his heart breaking over the writhing body on the bed. The small, squeaking grunts of pain and hot tears were almost too much to endure.
Larabee never flinched, just walked behind the bed and pushed Vin down hard, kneeling on his upper arm.
"I'm gonna give yuh a shot, Vin, all the pain will go away."
Chris stayed in place until every tense muscle went slack. He waited only long enough to wipe the damp face and pull the blanket up before he left just as the crowd gathered in the doorway of the doctor's room. He needed some air. He needed to get the picture of Vin's face, locked in a silent scream, out of his head. He managed a half-grin at the show Ezra and Buck were putting on.
"I'm sure you'll recognize Dr. Richard Miller. As you can see, he was a fine choice," Ezra said, his voice oozing repressed rage.
"But that's impossible. He had credentials!" one voice managed.
"Ah, yes, the ever popular 'credentials.'" Standish moved aside. "Come in, all of you, and see the fruits of your labor. This is who you would entrust your life to?"
"You folks sure got in a hurry," Buck spat in contempt. "Where the hell are those waggin' tongues that drove Nathan Jackson out of town? Take a good look. That animal damn near killed Vin Tanner yesterday - had a knife to his throat."
"And it wouldn't have been the first time." Ezra unfolded the telegrams he had in his pocket. "Did you bother to check on Dr. Miller's rather shady past? He's been run out of towns all over the West - after leaving a trail of bodies and suspicious deaths in his wake."
"Vin?" a voice in the back asked.
"He's fine," Buck said. "Thanks to Nathan. He saved his life last night. Did some tricky surgery, too. Not that any of you would care. You can't even see Nathan. You're too busy trying not to look at him. You make me sick." He shoved his way past the door. "Oh, by the way, you'll need to find yourselves another doctor. This one's going to jail."
A woman tugged on Buck's sleeve. "Do you suppose Nathan would stay?"
"Why should he?" Wilmington responded. "You don't deserve the likes of him."
"Maybe we can change his mind," a voice called out.
"I'd start with an apology," Ezra said, ushering them out. "And hope that he's more forgiving than I am."
"Hey..." Nathan smiled down as his patient. It was almost five o'clock and Vin's fever was dropping. The tracker looked pale and drawn, his features stamped in pain, but he had turned the corner. The healer waited until the confused eyes cleared up, then saw a weak smile. A wavering hand rose from the side of the bed.
The first face Vin saw when his troubled mind finally quieted was the soulful brown-eyes of the healer. He looked hard and saw peace there and smiled. He didn't know all the details, but he knew Nathan had saved him. "Thank ... ya ... save ... life," he whispered, wincing and grabbing his throat.
"No, Vin," Nathan said thickly, gripping the shaking hand hard, "It's me that's thankful. Yuh saved my hide again. I got lost for awhile and yuhr faith saved me, brother."
"... piss ... cat..."
"Yeah," Nathan chuckled, easing the infirmed man upright. "Yuh must be sick if yuhr asking for it." He got a full mug of cold tea into his patient, then saw the man's gaze traveling around the room. Tanner scowled. "He's having supper. He's been by yuhr side all night and day."
"Cranky..." Vin relaxed, knowing Chris would return soon.
"And then some," Jackson said and laughed. "I took them tonsils out, but yuh got some of that infection inside. Yuhr gonna be sick for awhile. That throat's gonna be hurtin' yuh for awhile, don't talk. Cold broths, teas and juices for a couple days, then soft foods until that incision in yuhr throat heals. Yuhr ears might hurt, too, and yuhr belly might be upset, but that's normal. How's the pain? Yuh want more morphine?"
Vin shook his head. "No ... piss cat ... okay."
"Good!" He pulled the blanket up and patted the tracker's shoulder. "Go back to sleep."
"Not ... tired."
"Nathan says you go to sleep, then you go to sleep."
The healer rose, wearing a smile. As soon as Larabee's voice had sounded, the tracker had grinned, his eyes crinkling in warmth. "Tea, broth and juice." He motioned to the mugs nearby.
"Don't give me any shit, Vin," Chris warned, dropping into the chair. "Yuh ain't wearin' any drawers, and I know lots of ladies in town who'd volunteer to give yuh a bath." His lips curled up as a finger peeped over the blanket. "Don't be swearin' at me, Tanner." He grinned, watching the blue eyes fading. They fought hard, trying to remain trained on his face. "I'll be here," he promised, hearing the sigh as the patient finally rested.
"I will too," Nathan said from the doorway, taking in the smile and nod from their leader.
"Something sure smells good!" JD bounced into the room, eyeing the roasting pan.
"Chicken, potatoes and carrots." Josiah smacked the youth's hand. "You're not wearing gloves at my table."
"Gloves?" The youth looked at his only good hand, the other in a sling. His hand was dirty. "Oh, I get it. Very funny."
"I'm starved!" Vin announced from the table. He had arrived at Chris's two days before via a wagon. He had fought a fever for several days after his surgery, then slept from exhaustion. Finally he had coaxed Nathan into the arrangement. He liked the cabin and the quiet solitude around it, especially the peace he found with Chris Larabee.
"You're always starving," Chris grumbled. "You just ate a little while ago."
"Aw hell, Larabee, that was applesauce," Vin rasped, wincing as his tender throat protested. "Don't count."
"Here." Nathan set a bowl down in front of him.
"What the hell is that?" The Texan's face screwed up in disgust. Orange, white and yellow mushy piles were in three nice piles.
"Chicken, carrots and potatoes," Josiah boomed. "Somethin' wrong with my cookin'?"
"I want real food." Vin glared at the healer. "Nathan, ya said—"
"Soft foods!" The healer shoved a spoon at his cranky patient. "Yuh don't like this? I can mix yuh some oatmeal."
"Aw hell," Vin mumbled, picking up his spoon. He noticed Buck and JD both moving away from him. "What's wrong?" He eyed the pair suspiciously as they waved their hands near their faces. "I don't smell ... ya got some balls, flappin' yer hands like that!" He saw Buck point to his mouth and wrinkle his face. "What? M' breath?" He huffed into his hand and smelled, nearly keeling over. "Jesus! Where'd that come from? Smells like somethin' died in there!"
"Well, you see, Vin, Nathan didn't tell you all the side effects of the surgery," Buck said with great sympathy.
"Yer shittin' me!" The blue-eyes rounded and he shoved his chair back. "I can't live like this - scarin' folks off. Put 'em back in!" he ordered, scowling at the riotous laughter at the table. "It ain't funny!"
"Yuh leave Vin alone." Nathan thwacked Buck's head with a spoon. "It's only temporary, Vin. Until the incision heals."
"How long?" Vin mumbled, already self-conscious.
"Four months," the healer replied with a straight face. He had to bite his lip as Tanner's expression fell.
Vin paled and dropped into his chair. The others all contained their laughter, watching as the sorry, soulful blue eyes widened with worry.
"Thought you were starving?" Chris managed.
"I ain't hungry n'more," Vin decided, rising and heading for the door. "Reckon I'll go outside, so's ya don't throw up at the table. 'Siah don't like a messy table."
"You ought to be ashamed, Nathan Jackson," the preacher said straight-faced over the laughter at the table.
The others ate and joked, the camaraderie the best medicine the healer could have.
"You gonna tell him?" Josiah asked Jackson.
"Yeah," Nathan said and chuckled, wiping his mouth before ambling outside. He sat down on the bench next to Vin, watching the sun setting. "Sure is pretty."
Getting no reply, he turned to study the somber profile. "Yuh plannin' on not talkin' forever?" He saw four fingers come up. "Oh, four months, huh?" He dropped his head and chuckled. "It's 'cause of the surgery, Vin. It'll go away in a few more days - a week at the most."
"Yer an unfeelin' jackass!" Vin slapped the other man's leg. "Pickin' on an invalid."
"Hey, Vin, you gonna eat your carrots? They sure look good."
"Shut the hell up, Buck!" Vin growled and grabbed his throat.
"I told yuh not to talk. Yuh gonna listen to me?"
"I never stopped," Vin said seriously. "I believe in this." He tapped the broad man's chest.
"Yeah." Nathan sighed, gripping the hand and shaking it. "And I won't deny this again," he said of the open hand. "Come on, supper's gettin' cold."
"Like it makes a difference," Vin moaned, thinking about his mushy meal. He saw the others smirking as he walked closer and his eyes narrowed. "Bucklin, if ya spit in my food..." He froze, spotting the rearranged plate. He blushed and sat down, trying hard not to laugh. "I can't eat them ... that..." He shook his head at the art on his plate which resembled a well endowed woman.
"Want some help?" Buck winked. "You're never too old to learn, Slick. I could teach you a thing or two."
Nathan waited in the doorway, letting the laughter float around the cozy room and into his heart. He was home. He'd found the right path and made the right choice. The road wasn't always smooth, but with brothers like these he'd accept a hand up when he fell. He shut the door, letting the warmth remain inside, with his family
He thought about that song again, the words drifting through his mind. He mentally sang the verses as he watched his friends.
When this dreadful war is ended, soon I hope the day will come,
Love's own star will lead my footsteps safely back to you and home.
Oh what joy again to meet you when the threatening storm is past,
and the flag our foes have planted flies in shreds upon the blast.
Farewell, farewell, best and dearest,
do not let your heart repine,
though the sky may now look gloomy soon the sun will brightly shine.1
1The song, "When This Dreadful War is Ended," was written by Stephen Foster during the Civil War.
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