Please do not link to this story

	Guard Duty

by pfps

Disclaimer: The characters and places of The Magnificent Seven do not belong to me. No profit, other than guilty pleasure, was made from this story.

Warnings: Contains adult material, including scenes of torture and sexual abuse. Rated R.

JD whooped, enjoying the wind through his hair and the feel of his horse under him. He'd been taking it easy on the ride back from Casey's this afternoon, but he'd grown restless and bored, and his horse danced between his legs, perhaps sensing his owner's need to run. A couple of miles out of town, JD let loose. He pulled his hat from his head, squeezed his knees, and took off across a field. A feeling of wild freedom coursed through him, set his heart to racing through his chest.

A wagon sped out of the trees several yards ahead of him, no driver in sight. He pulled up short and watched it rattle and shake across the uneven ground. The horses fought against each other, their manes tossing in the wind. Whoever the owner was would be sure to want his property back. Setting his hat back onto his head, JD clicked his teeth and pressed his heels into his horse.

As they drew near from the rear, he noticed a dark mound in the wagonbed. Details solidified as the distance shrunk and he realized it was a man. He urged his horse faster and finally pulled up even with the other horses. Leaning far out of his saddle, he managed to grasp the bridle of the nearest horse. The animal tossed its head and JD nearly lost his grip, but he hung on and tightened his knees around his own mount. The horses eventually slowed and finally stopped.

Quickly dismounting, he ran to the back of the wagon and found a young man, folded in a heap.

"Mister? Are you all right?" Clambering up into the wagon, JD gently pulled the stranger to his back. He realized the young man couldn't be much older than he was. A bruise darkened one temple and he looked haggard, pale and wan. His clothes draped on his skeletal frame.

With a moan, the injured young man woke up. His focus immediately latched onto JD. JD smiled reassuringly, noticing how blue the stranger's eyes were. He told him his name and asked if he was all right.

The kid frowned. "JD?" he whispered, then his head lolled back to the floor and he passed out again. Concerned, JD quickly made sure he was secure and as comfortable as possible, then scrambled to tie his own horse to the back of the wagon and drive the kid to town.

+ + + + + + +

The rattle of a racing wagon brought Buck's head up. He leaned forward, setting his chair back to the floor with a solid thump. The silhouette of JD's familiar bowler hat caught his attention, and he stood up. The kid stood with his legs braced in the bed of the wagon, arms outstretched and clenched in the reins. As Buck watched, JD hauled back on the leather straps, pulling his fists into his chest. The wagon rushed by in a loud jangle of noise, then came to a clamoring halt at the end of the street. Buck stepped down from the boardwalk and hurried over to join him. He noticed a man-sized lump near the back of the wagonbed.

"What's in the wagon, JD?"

"A kid," breathless from his ride, JD jumped from the wagon nearly knocking Buck down with his enthusiasm. He rounded the vehicle and reached to release the gate at the back. "Wagon ran away with him, he was unconscious in the back when I reached 'im."

He and Buck reached for the kid and turned him over carefully to his back. "Looks like he's been through some rough handling." Buck's drawl tightened. He saw JD glance at him from the corner of his eye, but didn't offer any other comment.

"What'd we got here?" Josiah's deep voice rumbled from behind Buck's shoulder. Buck turned his head to acknowledge him, but didn't take his eyes from the kid.

"JD found him. Looks like he's hurt."

"Let's get him on up to Nathan, see what he says." He pulled the young man toward him then scooped under his back and knees and lifted him from the wagon. The dark head hung back, arching his pale throat. Lax arms and legs bumped gently against Josiah as he carefully climbed the stairs to Nathan's room. JD slid past them sideways and opened the door, then allowed Josiah to enter first.

Nathan hurried across the room. He cupped his hands beneath the unconscious man's head, cradling his skull carefully when Josiah placed him on the bed. Rolling up his sleeves, he tersely asked Josiah to put a pot of water onto his small stove to boil. The ragged coat and stained and dirty shirt the kid wore were soon removed, revealing a pale, gaunt frame. Rib bones that looked too delicate and vulnerable beneath thin flesh spread and contracted with his breathing.

"Damn it, this boy's been starved." Nathan's harsh mutter pulled the group closer to the bed, as if they could shield the stranger from more harm. The bruises and welts on his torso weren't mentioned. Nathan lifted the kid's left hand and turned it gently, studying the square knuckles and long fingers. A badly healed scar puckered the skin between his thumb and pointing finger. "Gunshot wound." No one questioned Nathan's ability to judge the cause of the scar.

Abruptly, he straightened and pulled in a deep breath. "Josiah, that water boiling yet?

The big man nodded, his eyes hooded with anger. "I'll check."

"See that bag there?" Nathan pointed to the sideboard against one wall. "That's willowbark -- sprinkle about a pinch into the water."

Josiah moved to carry out his request. JD sidled into the place he'd left, nudging up against Nathan. "Will he be okay, Nathan? I mean, I feel kinda responsible and all, seeing as how I found him."

"He ain't a puppy, JD." An undercurrent of teasing stole into Buck's words. He shoved his elbow into JD, then grinned when the kid glared back at him.

"I know that."

"He should be, JD. I'll know soon's he --"

A soft moan cut him off. They all bent over the bed, watching as the stranger's eyes flickered, then slit open. His eyes widened suddenly in unmistakable fear. He pulled himself up and scooted backwards, coming up with a hard thump against the backboard.

"Whoa, whoa, kid." Buck held out his hand, patting the air in front of him. "No one's gonna hurt you here."

The young man's eyes flickered around the room, snapping from Nathan to Buck. His gaze rested on JD and his shoulders relaxed slightly. "You -- you're the one that saved me."

JD nodded, his mouth open with surprise.

"You're a hero."

JD grinned. He took a step back from the bed, grasped his jacket labels and tugged them straight over his chest. "I'm the Sheriff."

Buck slapped him smartly on the back of the head, ruining the effect. He swatted back at Buck, then restraightened his clothes.

"What's your name, kid?" Turning his grin from JD, Buck watched the kid. His eyes darted around again, then pinned to JD.

"James David." He paused a minute, seemed to be holding his breath, waiting for their reactions.

Before Buck could comment, JD grinned, wide and open. "Hey, we got the same initials. JD."

The young man smiled weakly. "Yeah. We're both JD." He shut his eyes, a smile still on his face; his body slumped back to the mattress.

"That's enough, now," Nathan cautioned. "You two go on and leave me with him a spell. He needs to rest and I need 'ta do something about these bruises."

Buck and JD left.

+ + + + + + +

Chris' spurs rang as he climbed the stairs to Nathan's room. It had been two days since JD had brought James David in. He'd meant to get up here before then and check out the kid's story, but between barroom brawls, one fight that turned deadly, and a rash of break-ins, which he'd just solved this morning, he hadn't found time.

He pushed the door open, aware his presence had silenced the boys' voices. They sat together on the bed, James David's legs under the rumpled quilt, JD across from him, one leg dangling over the side of the bed. A scattered pile of cards lay in the indented well between them.

Chris nodded once sharply. He touched his fingers to his hat but didn't remove it. Shutting the door, he crossed the room to join them. He scanned the boy -- about JD's age, really more than a boy -- taking in the healthy color in his cheeks. He'd been told James David was in bad shape, but it appeared to him the kid had improved after only the short two days he'd been with them. He cleared his throat.

"James David, I'm --"

"Chris Larabee." James David grinned at him, revealing a row of white, even teeth. He shrugged and dipped his head toward JD when Chris raised his eyebrows in question. "JD told me who you are."

"Good. You know us, now how 'bout returning the favor. Where are you from?"

The temperature in the room seemed to lower a few degrees. James' head dropped to his chest. He nervously fingered the cards in his hands but didn't look at them. "Bakersville." His voice was sullen and low.

JD twisted and turned to look at Chris. His mouth opened, but before he could speak Chris shook his head, an obvious warning not to interfere.

"Who's your Ma and Pa?"

"What do you care?" James' head lifted with his sneer. His eyes flickered to JD, then moved to Chris and narrowed. "You're all alike -- sooner or later you'll hurt me just like my Pa did."

The air dropped to freezing. Chris pulled in a deep breath, watched JD's head snap back to stare at James.

"What do you mean? Did your Pa hurt you?" Nathan had described the welts and bruises on the kid's body, but he had assumed those were injuries he'd received during his frantic ride in the wagon. The precious memory of holding his own son came to mind unbidden. His hands curled into fists at his sides.

James David crushed his eyes shut. Tears squeezed out of the corners of his eyes and ran down his face.

JD's head swiveled back to look at him. Chris swallowed and clenched his jaw with the open look of irritation and accusation on JD's face.

"T-they didn't love me." James' voice broke. His head hung low between his shoulders. Tears dropped to his hands, folded in his lap. Chris frowned, somehow unnerved with the emotional display from the young man. Guilt pushed regret through him, but he found himself disturbingly free of sorrow or sympathy.

"I knew they didn't want me around." He dragged his arm under his nose and sniffed loudly. "But they didn't know how to get rid of me." He shrugged, his shoulders rising then slumping dejectedly. "They weren't my parents, anyway. They was my Aunt Reese and Uncle Steven; took me in a couple of years back when my parents died."

Silence held the room in a heavy embrace. Chris took a step forward. His spur rang against the wooden floor. James' head snapped up with the sound; his glittering eyes latched onto Chris.

"Sorry, kid. I didn't mean 'ta--" he reached out, intending to clasp him on the shoulder, but James shrank from his touch, burrowing into the bed's headboard.

JD stood quickly. Chris backed up numbly, confused with James' reaction, unaware JD's hands were on his chest, pushing him back.

"You've asked him enough, Chris. Leave him be."

Chris hesitated, opened his mouth to answer, but his mind came up blank. He looked down at JD and recognized an air of fierce protection that surrounded him. Pressing his lips together, he glanced again at James, then turned and left.

+ + + + + + +

The silence in the room was broken by James' heavy, wet breathing. He turned a tear-streaked face to JD.

"I can't believe you pushed him back like that. And he didn't shoot you."

JD laughed, glad to feel the tension leave the room. He propped his hands on his hips. "Who, Chris? Nah, you just gotta know how to handle him is all. He wouldn't shoot me."

Naked admiration showed in James' face. JD squirmed uncomfortably under the gaze. He crossed the room, sat on the bed, and began gathering the scattered cards, avoiding looking at James. A hand sneaked into his field of vision. Trembling fingers rested lightly on his wrist. JD raised his head and found James watching him, his eyes narrowed with intense hope.

"Will you promise to be my best friend?"

The strange request shocked him into silence for a moment. It had the feel of something important he was committing himself to. Unable to pin down the questions in his head into one thought, he shrugged and nodded. "Yeah, sure."

James smiled. He tightened his fingers briefly, then withdrew his touch.

JD restarted the game, the strange promise fading to the back of his mind.

+ + + + + + +

Chris stood leaning against one of the post that supported the awning above the boardwalk along the south side of town. Josiah walked up to him and handed him a telegram.

"Here's an answer to that request I sent couple of days ago to the place James David mentioned." He stepped back, watched the townfolk walk by as Chris unfolded the paper and glanced at it. "There was a Reese and Steven Freemason, but there's no mention of a boy named James David." He waited for a reaction from Chris. When there was none, he continued, "I've wired the Sheriff in Bakersville, just to let him know we have the boy and we want to know more. If he is who he says he is, his parents'll be worried, no matter how bad they may seem."

Chris looked up from the paper. "I gotta bad feeling about that kid, Josiah. I just don't trust him."

Josiah gestured with his chin across the street. "JD doesn't share in your concern."

He looked to where Josiah had indicated and saw JD and James walking down the boardwalk together, shoulders touching, heads down discussing something that was obviously funny, judging by the wide smiles on their faces. In the week James had been with them, he and JD had grown close.

Chris frowned, the worry in his gut growing heavier. If he voiced his opinion to JD, the kid would only argue with him, probably stop trusting him. In his travels and experience, he'd learned a thing or two about human nature. Something about James David just didn't sit right with him.

"Yeah, well, JD's always been too trusting." He handed the paper back to Josiah. "Let me know what you hear." He stepped down from the boardwalk to cross the street, heading for the saloon. He'd keep his suspicions to himself for the time being, hoping maybe this time he was wrong.

+ + + + + + +

JD wandered into the saloon and took a seat beside Buck. It was late and he was tired, but it felt like it'd been forever since he'd had a drink with the guys. The handsome gunslinger turned and noticed him there. He threw an arm around his shoulders.

"Why, JD. Haven't seen you in a while. Where's James David?" He glanced toward the batwing doors as if expected the kid to appear at the mention of his name.

JD shrugged. "Don't know. He's been followin' me around like a puppy dog since I found him. I think I gave him the slip, though." He grabbed one of the full mugs of beer on the table and took a slurping swig. Buck laughed, put his hand on the top of JD's head and tousled his hair. JD pushed him away.

He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and frowned at Buck's teasing smile. "What?"

"That's the pot calling the kettle black, ain't it?"

"Huh? What're you talkin' about, Buck?"

Buck shrugged and grinned wider. "'Bout time the tables were turned on you, kid."

Across the table, Vin laughed softly. Nathan joined in; rich, rolling laughter that drifted through the room and out into the cool night. From where he stood alone in the dark, listening and watching, James David's eyes narrowed and his fists clenched at his sides.

+ + + + + + +

A couple of hours later, JD pushed up from his chair and walked to the batwing doors, his steps stumbling only a little. He hollered a goodnight back to Buck, smiled with the returned sentiment, then left, walking a slightly weaving path to his room.

A sound pulled through his attention, wiping some of the fog from his mind. He paused and concentrating on listening, but heard nothing more. Deciding his mind was playing tricks on him, he shrugged and continued on his way.

Just before he reached the boarding house porch he heard a thump and a muffled cry from the alley off the side of the building. He froze for an instant, then cautiously shifted to the corner and peered into the dark. A strangled cry for help galvanized him into action. He moved forward boldly, unthinking. Two steps into the darkness something hard crashed to the back of his head. He slumped to the ground, senseless.

+ + + + + + +

JD woke up, confused with his surroundings. He lifted his head and found himself tied spread eagle to the floor. A flickering flame in an old oil lamp that sat in one corner of the small, dusty room, revealed enough details for him to recognize the abandoned shack he and James had found a few days ago and decided to use when they hunted. His confusion grew to match the pain throbbing at his temples.

He remembered walking into the alley and someone hitting him. With a moan, he let his head fall gently back to the floor. The blow to his head made him dizzy and just a little sick to his stomach, and he struggled to make sense with what was happening. Straining against the cords holding his arms and legs, he found them tight and uncomfortable. Slumping in his bonds, he decided to rest for the moment, at least until he could figure out a way to get loose.

A door hung half off its hinges near the front of the shack. It squeaked open and James David walked in. Relief washed over JD in a warm wave.

"James David! Where'd you come from? Never mind, get these ropes off me!" He craned his neck to look at his wrist again, twisting and turning them to get free. When there was no immediate reaction from James, he snapped his head back around to see what he was doing. The kid had knelt on one knee beside him, both wrists crossed over his other knee and his chin propped there to watch. Irritation flooded JD and he whispered furiously, "Don't just sit there! Help me!"

"That's what a friend would do, wouldn't he?"

A small sound escaped JD's throat as he strained to hold his head off the floor.

"And I am your friend, right, JD?"

His skin tingled with awakening fear. JD swallowed hard and nodded his head. "Yeah, you're my friend. I told you that -- we're friends."

"But not your best friend." He stood up and walked around JD's feet. Yellow light glinted off something in his hand. JD pulled harder to sit up, ignoring the straining muscles in his shoulders and neck.

"What do y'mean?"

"Buck's your best friend, ain't he?"

"Who -- Buck? Yeah, yeah I guess so."

"Then what am I?"

Frustrated and ready to rid himself of the fear crawling up his spine, JD jerked hard against his bonds. "What the hell is this, James? Let me go!"

"No."

He expected an answering rage, not the calm, controlled reply. "Why not?"

"Because you broke your promise to me. And I don't like it when people do that." He slowly knelt near JD's hip and sat back on his ankles. "You need to be punished for lying, JD." He brought a long hunting knife up, turning the serrated blade slowly in front of his face.

"What?" JD tensed against the floor. His fear bloomed into terror and choked in his chest. "What are you doing? Who the hell are you?" His demand, weakly whispered, brought only a smile from James.

"Why, I'm your best friend, JD, even if you're not mine." James reached for JD's shirt. He pulled one button up delicately with his fingers, then sliced between the button and the shirt, cutting it from the material. JD pressed his back into the floor and watched the knife with wide eyes. "And after tonight, you'll be gone. I'll take your place, though. They can even call me JD." He smiled, rolling his eyes to peer from under his brows at JD. "They won't even miss you."

The buttons were gone. James set the knife down carefully. He grasped JD's shirt and pulled it open, exposing the quivering, heaving chest beneath. His fingers brushed against his stomach as he unlatched JD's belt, then slid it from around his waist.

His breathing sounded high and fast in his ears and JD struggled to control it. But his fear was too big, too smothering. He'd never felt so terrified in all his life.

With a suddenness that stole his breath, James lifted his arm in the air and brought it down faster than he could see. A bright swath of pain flayed across his chest. JD sucked in air, pulling himself in and pressing his back against the floor. James lifted his arm again and JD saw his own belt in the young man's hand before he brought it down across his skin. He shouted out in pain with the excruciating strike of leather against his flesh, his arms and legs pulled taut in his bonds to keep his body bowed inward, his muscles bunched tightly through his chest and abdomen. The strap fell again, crisscrossing blows that raised red and swollen welts over his belly.

His eyes crushed closed. Harsh, vomiting burst of breath gushed from between his teeth when the leather burned painfully against his body again. A respite in the pain loosened his bones and he melted against the floor.

A soft laugh brought his attention back to James. The kid stood up, smiled down at him, then turned and walked quietly out of the cabin. JD let his head drop back to the floor with a hollow thunk. He prayed, his lips moving with his words, and squeezed his eyes shut, hoping help would come before it was too late.

+ + + + + + +

He blinked awake, surprised he'd fallen asleep. Nothing had changed, the room was still empty, the lamp still burned low in the corner, and his arms and legs were still tied. The contusions over his chest and belly burned. He kept sucking in his breath when a sharp sting of pain flashed through him. He shut his eyes again, disappointment a heavy weight in his gut.

Footsteps sounded just outside the door. JD shuddered and lifted his head to see who it was. James walked into the room and the fear that had settled down to an irritating whine in his head exploded with roiling nausea in his stomach.

"James, why are you doing this?"

James smiled and shifted close to his side. He knelt again. "Because I want to."

The answer chilled him to the bone. James reached for him and JD flinched away. "Don't touch me."

The kid's eyebrows pulled together and drew down into slanting angles over his eyes. "Why? Do you think I'm dirty? You think you might catch something?"

The building rage he saw behind those white-blue eyes scared him. "N-no. I don't think you're dirty."

As abruptly as the anger appeared, it was replaced with a smile. "Let me show you what I like to do." He lifted the knife in his fist high above his head and thrust it downward in an arc to JD's stomach. JD sucked in his gut and dug his heels into the floor. There was no way he could escape the blade, nothing he could do to stop it from stabbing into him. Helplessness burst in him so bright it blocked out his vision for an instant.

He blinked open his eyes and found James watching him. The kid's stare moved to his body, and JD followed. James held the knifepoint just touching his flesh, maybe an inch above his navel. The tip made a tiny indention, vibrating with small quivers on the muscles that rolled and clenched in JD's abdomen as he breathed.

Pressure was exerted and the tip pushed down, opening a wider well of indention in JD's flesh. JD's breath caught in his throat. He snapped his stare to James, found the young man watching him, his head tilted, his chin defined with a wide smile. A sharp point of pain pierced his belly and the breath he'd been holding exploded loudly out of his mouth. He tucked his chin against his chest and looked down at himself. The knife barely penetrated his body, but that cold quarter of an inch of steel blade sliding into him felt like a thick tree limb skewering through his belly. He shuddered against the floor.

"Please --" He cringed inside as his courage melted and he resorted to begging. He'd felt pain before, been punched, kicked and even stabbed since joining the Seven in Four Corners, but in all his experiences he'd never imaged this kind of agony. It was relentless, boring into his body, severing his soul from his mind. He threw his head back when the knife went deeper.

James pushed it down and dragged the tip of the blade across the flat plane of his torso so that it sliced into him, carving a long narrow line of mindless agony nearly to his groin. His legs shook against the floor and he pulled at the ropes holding his wrists in anguish, wishing only to escape the pain.

The pain abated. JD deflated, his arms and legs flopping numbly to the floor. He felt James' hands at his waist, knew the kid was unfastening his pants, but he was frozen in the throes of blinding shock and couldn't speak to stop him. A ringing blade sang through the room and he felt cold air drift against him. Drawing in deep breaths, he tucked his chin against his chest, unable to find the strength to lift his head farther from the floor. A narrow red-painted line of blood ran from just above his navel to his lower abdomen. Blood welled slowly from the wound, finding tracks down the curving sides of his body, leaving behind red paths of gore.

James knelt between his thighs, working the last remnants of his britches out from under his hips.

JD shivered with the cold, still too deeply in shock to realize he was naked and to be able to understand the events as they unfolded for him. "W-what are you doing?"

The kid craned his head up to look at him. "This is my favorite part, JD. This is the part my Pa liked best." Reaching behind him, he loosened the knot that tied JD's right leg to the iron ring in the floor. He played out some slack, retied the knot before facing JD again. "Just gotta make you easier to get to is all."

Without another word, he forced JD to bend his leg. James scooted up to his knees, then leaned across JD's bent knee, pinning it firmly to JD's torso. JD grunted, both with pain and the uncomfortable stretching pull through his inner thigh. Something cold touched him between his butt crack. Revulsion flooded him with strength and he fought his restraints.

"Get the hell off me!"

James just grinned and held him tighter.

A cold, hard object pressed against his anus. JD clenched his butt and squeezed his eyes shut. He locked his teeth, felt the grimace stretch his lips back. The blunt knife handle entered him and he shrieked. Whatever pain he thought he'd survived up to this point faded away to nothing compared to the torture he was enduring now. He heard James grunting as he jerked his arms and leg, twisting his hips to dislodge his attacker. He pushed against the thing penetrating him, straining to force it out. It moved in and out of his body, shoved deep, then withdrawing to only a tip just inside his body. He arched his back against the floor, roared his betrayal and misery out with a huge, chest-exploding yell.

Abruptly, James' weight disappeared. Before he could open his eyes something hard and bony struck him on the side of the skull. His head snapped to the side, then lolled slowly back. It hit him again, smashing against his temple. The darkness swallowed him whole.

+ + + + + + +

Morning rose slow and lazy over Four Corners. On the porch at the jail, Chris watched a man ride into town, a shiny badge on his chest catching sunlight in glittering flashes. He tipped his hat to the man when he stopped in front of him, but didn't otherwise move from his position: his legs stretched and crossed atop a barrel in front of him.

"'M name's Sheriff Damson. I'm from Bakersville."

Chris' interest was immediately piqued and he sat up. "We got a boy from there, James David. You heard of him?"

"No." The man dismounted, looped his reins around the hitching post and placed his foot on the bottom step. He leaned forward, bracing his elbow against his raised knee and clasped his hands in front of him.

"You Chris Larabee?"

Chris nodded.

"Got your telegram askin' 'bout Reese and Steven Freemason, though. They had a son, Crowley, but he ran away about a month ago."

Chris sneered. "They drive him away?"

The Sheriff appeared surprised with Chris' reaction. "No. Them two were godly people -- tried to raise the boy right, set him down the straight and narrow. Weren't their fault he was demon spawn to begin with."

Josiah, lounging in the open doorway, pulled his toothpick from his mouth and flicking it away. "You sayin' the boy was no good?" Buck, in the jail, came out to the porch and joined them. He stood listening, an intense look on his face.

"As bad as they come." Sheriff Damson straightened. He hooked his hands in his gunbelt and pushed it down, settling it lower on his hips. "He kilt his family, left 'em lyin' in their own blood and took off."

Buck pushed forward. "You tellin' me that kid's a murderer?" His words sowed fear into their hearts.

His earlier suspicions sprang to mind, but Chris ignored them and rose to his feet, speaking over Buck. "What's this boy look like?"

"Oh, about five foot and a half," he held a hand chin high to himself, "dark hair, blue eyes that you can almost see through. And he's got a scar on his left hand where he shot himself one day about two years ago."

Still ignoring the screaming voice in his head, Chris took a step closer. "How you know he's the one that killed 'em?"

"Woman was still alive when we got to her." Damson dropped his head a moment to study the ground. When he looked back up his eyes had narrowed to slits, his face had grown hard. "She told us what he did, how he killed her husband first and made her watch. Gutted him, sliced him open like a melon." He paused, his eyes flickering back and forth to the listening men. "We've had three murders in our town since last year, and I'm willin' to bet my badge on all of 'em being by that boy. They was all kilt the same way, all cut down the middle, tortured and maimed."

"Why?" Josiah's big head swung slowly back and forth. "Why would a child do something like that?"

"Don't know," Damson answered. "Some say 'cause he was born that way, some think he's had a curse put on 'im." He glanced at Chris when the gunslinger made a sound of disbelief. "Don't matter why. All I know is anything can set him off. He's as natural actin' as you and me, but he gets these notions in his head. Gets ideas that he wants something, wants it bad. And when he don't get it, that's when he twists inside out and turns into somethin' from hell." He took a step back and reached to undo the reins on the post. "You all just tell me where to find him, I'll go get him. I've been chasin' him for nearly a month now. Just happen to check in with my Deputy and found out you folks might have him here."

Buck looked searchingly around himself. "Where's JD?"

"Haven't seen him this morning." Chris caught Buck's eyes, saw fear round them into saucers. "Don't go jumpin' to no conclusions, Buck. James -- Crowley liked JD. There's no reason to think the boy'd harm him."

"JD told me James asked him to be his friend, then followed him around like a puppy dog. Said he'd managed to lose him last night."

"You think that'd be enough to set him off?" Josiah reached just inside the door, grabbed his hat, then set it on his head. "I'll go check JD's room."

"I'll go with you." Buck jumped off the porch with one long leap, following close at Josiah's heels.

Within just a few minutes they met back at the jail. Josiah spread his hands in an open gesture, showing Chris they'd found nothing. Behind him, Buck confirmed their fears. "We cain't find him nowhere."

The Sheriff shook his head, sympathy drawing his face into long lines. "The three bodies we found were outside of town. Crowley'd tied up his victims and played with them, our doctor figured from the way the bodies was left. Crowley's got this thing with knives."

Buck turned to Chris, tension pulling his face tight. "We gotta find 'em, Chris."

"My, my, excitement stirs the air around you gentlemen like lightning on a stormy night." Ezra joined them, discreetly tucking his cards into an inner jacket pocket. He turned to the Sheriff and tipped his hat. "Judging by the badge on your lapel I'd say you had official business here."

"This here's the Sheriff from Bakersville, Ezra," Josiah explained.

"Bakersville." Ezra's eyebrows rose to nearly disappear beneath his hat brim. "Where our new young addition hales from."

"He's not who he says he is." Buck stood stiffly, his weight cocked on one hip. He glared through narrowed eyes at the man. "Sheriff Damson here tells us James David is really some kid named Crowley who's wanted for murder."

If Ezra was surprised by the revelation he didn't show it. His expression remained carefully neutral.

"He and JD are missin' and we don't know where to start lookin'." Josiah finished the story when Buck grew silent.

"Have you checked their latest discovery?"

"What?" Chris turned to the gambler, giving him his full attention. When Ezra proved to be too slow for his patience he stepped closer and was satisfied to see a slight flinch in the façade.

"I overheard James and JD talking about an old shack they'd found. They had great plans about patching it up so they could use it when they hunted in the winter. They believed it would give them a place to stay if they found themselves out too late to make it back into town." He cleared his throat and reached down to tug at the bottom of his jacket, straightening it. "I know where the place is."

"Show us."

They quickly mounted their horses and rode out of town, leaving a cloud of dust behind.

+ + + + + + +

JD moaned and turned his head. He blinked his eyes open and remembered where he was. The light that illuminated the room was too bright from just one little oil lamp. He glanced toward the window and his suspicions were confirmed: it was morning.

A dark shape drew his attention to one corner of the room. James sat on his haunches, holding his knife, watching him like an artist studying his canvas, deciding where to put the next brush stroke. The long fingers of his other hand glided lightly along the edge of the blade.

Damn. Reality rushed in and JD felt his gut convulse with nausea. He looked away, moaning softly.

Soft, shuffling steps whispered across the room toward him. JD realized his tattered britches must have been pulled back up around his hips. The material rustled softly against his skin when he moved restlessly on the floor. He wondered why his clothes had been replaced; it seemed at odds with what James was doing to him.

Cold like the tip of an icicle touched his stomach. He rolled his head and looked down at his body to find James holding the blade steady on him, the tip resting lightly in his navel. He held his breath, knowing he was dangerously close to the end of his endurance, feeling insanity waiting for him over the edge of his pain.

James lifted the knife and moved it to his side. He pressed it firmly, painfully into him, just below the bony edge of his ribs. JD curled himself away from the weapon, felt himself tense when the blade dug deeper. An involuntary shriek burst from his throat.

"Don't worry none, JD." James' voice drifted to him through rolling waves of pain. "I've seen men live after having a knife stuck in 'em here. Hell, my own Pa said --"

Oblivious to the words, JD felt the blade slide into him slowly, inch by agonizing inch. He stared up at the ceiling, patches of blue showing through half-rotten boards. Defeat washed through him with the knowledge that no one would save him, no one would come rescue him from this pain and suffering. A long groan gushed out of his mouth. His eyes filled and tears slid unnoticed down the sides of his upturned face. The knife nicked something inside, maybe scraped against his ribs, and his body gave a jerking spasm. Like a thread stretched too far he felt something snap, and slowly sank into the red sea of agony closing over his head.

An explosion of sound abruptly rocked the house; the boards under his back vibrated.

Darkness swam through his mind, undulating and finally drifting into muted colors. Muffled sounds, noises he couldn't differentiate from the thrumming in his head rebounded in his skull. A familiar sound strung through him, threading memories and images together. He couldn't quite make the connection, but the sound pulled the darkness away and wrapped him up in hope. A name formed and he struggled to say it, strained to bridge the gulf to his brain. He could only moan. His frustration brought him closer to the surface. He tried to open his eyes, but couldn't.

The pain in his side speared to a brilliant point. He bucked against the floor, his back arching in reaction. As if that expended the last of his energy, he felt himself grow limp and boneless, concentrating only on breathing. The pain hadn't gone away, it still heated the lining of his stomach, throbbing deep into his body, probing deeply into his core. He shivered with cold.

Hands touched him, pulled something warm up around him, gently and lovingly loosened the ropes around his limbs, cradled them and soothed away some of the hurt circling his wrists. Someone spoke to him, and the words pierced the veil of his confusion; a voice he knew, someone he trusted, someone he called his best friend, told him to rest, to let go and rest. Safety enveloped him, lifted him up and held him. He let go.

+ + + + + + +

He woke up in Nathan's clinic. The relief was immeasurable, a cleansing wash that sloughed away most of the fear still clinging like spiderwebs to his bones. Buck stood nearby. He shifted closer when JD's eyes opened and leaned over him, propping his hands flat against the mattress on either side of JD's head. Worry lines aged him; he was drawn and pale.

"I'm sorry, JD." The confusion JD felt must have shown on his face. "I'm sorry for letting this happen, sorry for not being more alert and paying attention to James, or Crowley. Not paying attention to you."

JD rolled his head from side to side on his pillow. "There wasn't no way you could know -- no way *any* of us could know -- what kind of person he was inside." His voice, though weak, carried across the room.

Chris spoke up. "I knew. I ignored my gut." He dipped his head in a silent kind of apology. "It won't happen again."

Nathan stepped into JD's view. Buck saw him and moved out of the way. The healer gently lifted the quilt with one hand. He checked the bandage with his other hand, his fingers pressing gently into sore flesh.

"You'll be all right, JD. The stab wound was deep but it didn't look like it hit anything vital. The cut needed a few stitches, but it'll heal up fine." He replaced the quilt, carefully smoothed it down. He motioned to some salve he'd placed on the sideboard. "We need to keep those welts covered. I got something that'll keep 'em numb 'til they heal up better, won't make 'em so tender." He lowered his head and walked back across the room. He didn't mention the other uncomfortable throbbing JD had grown aware of in his ass, and JD didn't ask. That was something he'd have to sort out himself.

After offering soft wishes and thankful glances his way, the others left. Only Buck remained.

"He wanted me to be his friend. His best friend." JD moved his shoulders, an abbreviated version of a shrug in deference to his injuries. He didn't quite know where the words were coming from. Seemed like they'd built up in his head and he had to let them out before they got stuck. "I just didn't understand what all he wanted from me." There was a numb gulf between his words and his feelings. He knew he should be angry, murderously angry, with James -- Crowley. But he wasn't. Maybe after his mind caught up with things and the full impact of what'd been done to him finally registered, he'd grieve. But right now, all he could feel was relief. Relief to be out of that room. Relief to be alive.

Taking a deep breath and wincing with the pull across his chest and abdomen, JD finally asked the question pushing at the back of his mind. "Where is he?"

Buck's eyes shuttered for a moment. He turned to look out the window, then seemed to gather his resolve and faced JD. "Vin's the one that found you. We pulled up short of the cabin, decided to wait and figure out the situation before storming head first into things." One corner of his mouth pulled down into a frown, and JD had the feeling that particular decision had been made by Chris and hadn't set well with his friend.

"Vin went on ahead, sneaking and gliding through shadows so well I lost sight of 'im. We waited a bit, then I wanted to go but -- Chris said give him a minute more and that's when we heard the gunshot." He flinched as if hearing it again. "I don't remember much after that 'cept finding myself in the cabin, my gun in my hand. Found Vin standing over Crowley, his gun still smoking. When he turned and looked at me he didn't say nothin' at first. Just pointed his chin at you, said, 'There he is', then bent down and picked up Crowley, slung him over his shoulder. 'I'll get this filth outta the way,' he said, and he left. Don't know what he did with the body."

JD swallowed hard, stirred with the vast feeling of protection that moved through him with Buck's words. "Reckon he took care of things, then."

"Yeah."

Buck's eyes flickered up, pinned on JD. "We all did, JD. That's what friends do -- look after each other."

"I know." He sighed, then slowly pulled the quilt up to his chin, wincing again with the pull of his injuries.

Buck reached for the jar of salve on the sideboard. He sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. Moving slowly, as if handing a frightened animal, he pulled the quilt down, gently tucking it into a fold at JD's waist. Dipping his fingers into the salve, he reached for JD. JD's breath caught and without meaning to, he gripped Buck's other wrist, arresting his movement. A warning ran through his mind and revulsion shivered across his bare skin. He didn't even know why he was afraid. Buck shifted his weight slightly, letting JD keep hold of his wrist. He carefully, slowly, smoothed the salve onto the welts and bruises with his other hand.

"Nathan said to put this on. Said it would help them wounds heal--'spose to make it feel better."

Buck worked carefully, patiently, dutifully. Nothing telegraphed through his cooling touch but genuine friendship and like a burst of sunlight, JD understood why he'd been afraid. He relaxed his grip on Buck's wrist and began to fall asleep.

"Think I'll rest my eyes a bit."

Buck nodded. "You do that." He sat the jar back on the sideboard and wiped his fingers off on a towel. "You don't mind if I sit here a spell, do you?"

'Guarding you'. It went unsaid, but that's what JD heard in Buck's offer. "Sure, Buck. That'd be fine."

Buck nodded again. He flipped his wrist and slung the towel across the room onto the wash basin. Pressing his back into the chair, he folded his hands across his stomach and leaned his head against the wall behind him. Guard duty suited him just fine. He had no intention of letting JD out of his sight for a long time. A very long time.

The End

Comments to: pfps@hotmail.com