Friday came and after three days of no apparent improvement in the tracker's condition both Nathan and Ezra were becoming increasingly worried. Nathan had had to go to tend to a woman in childbirth and Ezra was sitting beside Vin's bed watching him with fear in his heart. If only the fever would break. "Vin, you must wake up. Please you cannot die. I could not bear it," the gambler whispered hoarsely, tears catching in his voice as he bent over his prone friend.Suddenly Ezra could not stand to simply watch the tracker's restless movements and listen to his gasps and whimpering. He removed his jacket, shirt and boots, eased himself onto the bed and took Vin in his arms. Vin instinctively curled into the comfort the gambler offered, with his head pillowed on Standish's shoulder, and immediately seemed more at ease.
How long they lay there Ezra could not have said. He must have dozed off, but came instantly awake when a voice said, "Ez?" For a moment, he stared at Vin in bemusement and then realized the reddened eyes were regarding him with lucidity.
There was a moist sheen on Vin's skin. The fever had broken at last. The gambler gently touched the tracker's forehead. It was no longer dry and burning. Standish felt tears of relief running down his cheeks.
"Are ya okay, Ez?" Vin asked in concern, his voice even raspier than usual.
That was so typical. Vin was always far more worried about others than himself. "To appropriate one of your phrases, Mr Tanner, I am fine. I am better than fine. I am even moved to embrace you if I may." Without waiting for permission, he drew Vin even more closely against him and held him against his heart.
"Thank ya, Ez," Vin murmured, snuggling into him.
Ezra ran his hands through Vin's tousled curls and down his back, petting him like he might a kitten. Normally Vin shied away from physical contact, but now he simply tried to squirm even closer to the gambler. "I had horrible dreams, Ez," he confided, "but I knew ya would find me."
That certainty jolted the gambler, unused as he was to having anyone place reliance upon him.
"Are you all right now?"
"Yeah, but ... but could ya just ... just ..." He trailed off blushing hotly.
"Are you endeavouring to inform me that you are not yet ready to quit your current position of comfort?"
"It does feel nice, Ez, and my back is hurtin' a bit from how I've been lyin'," the tracker uncharacteristically admitted, burrowing his face into the gambler's chest.
"All right, but on two conditions," Ezra said, gently rubbing his hands down Vin's back to try to ease the stiffness.
"Yeah?"
"You drink that glass of medicine Nathan has left for you."
"But I'm <cough> okay now."
"And," the gambler continued, as if Vin had not spoken, "you let me extricate myself from your embraces when we hear Mr Jackson's return." In truth, he did not feel he could face Nathan while holding Vin so intimately.
"What about <cough> just the second?" Vin bargained.
"You are feeling better, are you not? However, the terms are non-negotiable, Mr Tanner. Anyway, you must appreciate that our esteemed healer will insist upon your consumption of the contents of that glass on his return."
"S'pose so," Vin conceded reluctantly.
The gambler sat up, raising him slightly, and held the glass to his dry lips. "Slowly," he cautioned, as he realized Vin was trying to gulp down the distasteful liquid as quickly as possible.
Finished, the tracker pulled a horrible face and muttered, "Yuck," as he sagged back wearily against the gambler. The effort had been too much for him in his weakened condition and his heavy lids started to flutter and then closed.
For a few minutes, Ezra just lay holding him, thankful for the calm breath and the steady rise and fall of the tracker's chest. Then he carefully eased his way off the bed.
Vin slept for much of the next twenty-four hours, with Nathan rousing him at intervals to pour more of the herbal medicine into his unwilling mouth. He was still coughing, but the bouts were far less frequent.
However, mid morning Saturday, he finally roused. "Welcome back, Vin," Nathan said cheerfully. "How are you feeling?"
"Fine."
Nathan shook his head. He should have known better than to bother to ask because, as always, Vin had given his standard reply. "Do you feel like some breakfast?"
"Coffee?" Vin asked hopefully.
"No, sorry, Vin, but you can have some scrambled eggs if you think you can manage them."
"Yes, thank ya, Nate."
When Nathan returned with the food, he found a bemused Vin had started to take stock of his situation.
"What's this thin' I'm wearin'?" he asked, plucking at the nightshirt.
"One of Ezra's nightshirts."
"But it's got lace and stuff."
"I am informed on good authority that such garments are very fashionable among discerning gentlemen," Nathan replied, suppressing a grin with difficulty at the sight of Vin's uneasy face and knowing full well that his choice of words would make it glaringly obvious just who had supplied the information.
"Oh," Vin said, considering the information. "Well, I dunno <cough> what dis- whatever ya said means, but I <cough> know I ain't a gentleman, so can I have my clothes?"
"No, you're not fit enough to get up yet," Nathan replied firmly. He knew from long experience that to give Vin his clothes was just to invite his escape from the clinic.
"I mean just to wear 'steada this."
"You don't wear clothes in bed."
Vin looked at him in genuine surprise. "But I always <cough> sleep in my clothes."
"Not in my clinic, you don't. Anyway, think how hurt Ezra would be if you didn't wear his nightshirt after he so kindly lent it to you."
"I s'pose so," Vin conceded, "but I wish he'd picked one <cough> without frilly bits. The boys'll laugh at me iffen they see it, 'specially Buck."
"You'd better keep yourself well covered up then," Nathan responded, thinking that there were definite merits in the nightshirt after all. "Now eat your breakfast before it gets any colder."
Vin had just finished all he could eat, which compared to his usual standards was not much, amounting as it did to barely half a plateful, when there was a knock at the door. Nathan answered it. "Morning, Ezra."
"How is our patient this fine morning?"
"His condition is improving," Nathan replied.
Ezra nodded his acknowledgement of the emphasis. Both knew of old that the better Vin felt, the worse his behaviour became. He seemed to have an unvoiced theory that if he made himself obnoxious, Nathan would give in and release him from the clinic. Not that he was near that stage of his recuperation, or as he regarded it imprisonment, yet, but he was already questioning instructions.
"You go on in. I'm just going to wash his breakfast dishes."
Ezra entered and greeted Vin.
Vin could see the gambler was carrying a bowl and a small leather bag. "Mornin', Ez, what have ya got there?" he asked.
"I am going to shave you, Vin. Then I will devote my best endeavours to removing the tangles from that uncivilized mop that supposedly adorns your head." As he spoke, he stroked the tangled curls.
"Ya've done enough for me, Ez, ya <cough> don't need to..."
"I most emphatically do 'need to', Mr Tanner. I can assure you that you will feel much better after I have tidied you up. In any case," he added teasingly, "I am developing a severe rash on my chest from all that stubble on your face."
"It was yer idea to hug me," Vin retorted, with a flash of his old spirits. "Anyway, I can <cough> shave myself."
"If you imagine I am going to let you loose with a cut-throat razor in your condition, you have got another think coming. Imagine what Messrs Larabee and Jackson would do to me if, God forbid, your hand slipped and you did yourself a mischief."
"I s'pose they could be a mite riled," Vin conceded.
"Then may I assume that I have your permission to valet you?"
"Huh?"
"May I proceed?"
"Iffen ya mean 'Can ya shave me?', I s'pose so." In truth, he really felt too weak to argue and Ezra seemed so set on trying to help him it seemed churlish to refuse.
So Ezra lathered Vin's face and then deftly shaved him. Vin lay back, eyes closed, and to his surprise, found himself enjoying the unaccustomed attentions.
Then, before the tracker realized what he was about, the gambler had the top off a bottle of sweet-smelling liquid and was patting it into Vin's smooth cheeks.
Roused by both the smell and the stinging sensation, Vin demanded, "What the hell is that stinkin' ... I-I mean what's that stuff, Ez?"
"Some rather expensive after-shave lotion."
Vin stared at him blankly. "Huh? Why'd ya put it on me?"
"A gentleman always uses an astringent after shaving," Ezra responded, very much on his dignity.
At that moment, Nathan entered the room. He wrinkled his nose. "What on earth is that smell?" he asked.
"Ez's put some smelly perfume on me," Vin complained, poking out his lower lip.
Ezra put on his best long-suffering expression in the face of such ignorance and ingratitude. "It is merely some after-shave lotion, Mr Jackson. I have been attempting to make our charge somewhat more presentable, but I fear it is a thankless task."
Vin heard the final comment with dismay. "I'm sorry, Ez, I know <cough> yer tryin' yer best to look after me," he apologized.
"Shall I continue with my ministrations then, Mr Tanner?" the gambler replied appeased by the apology.
"I dunno what those are," Vin admitted. "I though ya just wanted to comb my hair."
"Now that Mr Jackson is here I might attempt to wash it as well, if he is in agreement and willing to assist."
"Of course, Ezra," the healer replied. "There's hot water on the stove."
"Good, just what I require. I will fetch it." He bustled off.
Vin realized the healer was staring at him. Close scrutiny always made him uneasy. "Whatcha lookin' at, Nate? Has Ez missed some bristles or cut off one of my eyebrows or somethin'?"
"Sorry, Vin. You just look so different. I don't think I've ever seen you clean-shaven before." In truth, he could not believe how young Vin looked. He could not possibly have more than a couple of years on JD. Another thought occurred. "Vin, how do you manage it? You never grow a beard, but you never seem to shave either."
"Dunno. Takes me ages to grow any stubble."
"Why bother? You look fine clean-shaven."
Vin blushed fiercely. "T-Trouble is some cowboys seem to ... to think I'm ... um ... purty, which I ain't of course," he added hurriedly. "Anyway, it's better to look older. Buck might <cough> start treatin' me like a kid like he does JD."
"I think he's busy enough with one chick," Nathan replied smiling.
The door opened and Ezra returned, with towels hung over his arm, and carrying a bowl of water and another small bottle.
"What's in that?" Vin asked suspiciously.
"Shampoo."
"Pooh? Do ya mean it's more <cough> smelly gunk?"
"It is a product specially formulated for washing hair."
"But that's what ya use soap for."
"Vin, I thought you were willing to allow me to tend you."
"Yeah, but ..."
"Then kindly refrain from making all these unhelpful observations."
"He means shut up," Nathan whispered.
"Oh, sorry, I guess I do tend to talk too much."
That remark took both men by surprise. They knew the tracker could go for hours hardly speaking a word and certainly initiating no conversations. "I have to confess I have never found you to be unduly verbose," Ezra admitted.
Vin was looking confused again, but the gambler decided to proceed with his plan rather than try to expand the tracker's vocabulary with the addition of a word he was highly unlikely to ever employ.
"I am going to brush your hair now and then I will wash it." He began to run a comb through the tangled curls. The comb kept catching in knots and Ezra was less than gentle with one particularly stubborn one.
"Ow! Bad fairies!" the tracker exclaimed.
"I beg your pardon?" Standish said, certain that he had misheard.
Vin blushed enticingly. "Bad fairies," he repeated. "That's what my ma called them."
Ezra smiled. The childlike aspects of Mr Tanner's personality were both amusing and endearing to the normally cynical gambler.
"Are ya laughin' at me?"
No, of course not, Mr Tanner, I was merely trying to picture my own mother making such a charming observation," Ezra lied glibly. "Now, if Mr Jackson will support you, I will get you sitting up so I can wash your hair."
"I can sit up by myself," Vin announced resolutely and inaccurately.
Nathan decided he ought to intervene. "Ezra's right, Vin. You're better than you were, but we don't want to rush things." He slid an arm around the thin shoulders and gently raised the tracker.
By the time Ezra had finished lathering and rinsing Vin's curls to the gambler's satisfaction, and then toweling them dry, Vin was leaning heavily on the healer's arm.
When Jackson lowered him again, he lay back mortified to find himself exhausted by the minor exertion. However, he managed to whisper, "Thank you, Ez," and his astonishingly sweet smile added further testimony to his gratitude for the gambler's care. Then his heavy lids closed and he fell asleep almost immediately.
"He's not quite as fit as he thinks he is," Nathan commented.
Ezra nodded absently, as he looked down mesmerized by Vin's beautiful face, framed by the shining mane of auburn hair. Then he realized Nathan was regarding him quizzically. "He ... ah scrubs up quite well, does he not?" he said hurriedly.
"A little too well," Nathan observed sagely. For the first time, he was looking past the scruffy protective façade the tracker affected and seeing the beauty that had caught Hudson's eye and now appeared to be ensnaring the gambler. "Take care, Ezra," he added not unkindly.
Jolted by the healer's comments, the gambler swiftly assumed his usual mask of bland indifference and then endeavoured to bluff his way out of the embarrassing situation by stating, "Would you care to elucidate upon that somewhat cryptic comment, Mr Jackson? I must confess to being more than somewhat bewildered by it."
However, the healer did not back down as the gambler had hoped he might. "Don't put your poker face on for me, Ezra," he said. "I know you too well and you know exactly what I am alluding to."
"I may seem unduly obtuse, but I fear I do not," Ezra lied valiantly.
"Well, if you want plain speaking, Ezra, I can see you've got feelings for Vin and I don't want to see either of you getting hurt."
"Mr Tanner is merely a friend."
"But you'd like him to be more, wouldn't you?" Nathan said.
"I have not said as much," the gambler responded somewhat haughtily.
"But you don't deny it. Look, Ezra, I know you don't intend to hurt Vin, but we both know he's been through a hell of a time lately and he's very vulnerable at present. I suspect that the rumours are true and he and Chris have become closer than the law or Josiah's church might approve of. However, regardless of the legality of what they may or may not be doing, I believe they need each other. I wouldn't like you to do anything that might upset that relationship."
"I would not dream of putting my person at risk by coming between Mr Larabee and his desires. My mother might not have been an ideal role-model, but she did not raise a fool." He had meant it to sound like a joke, thus lightening the mood, but he could not keep out a touch of bitterness.
"Love can make fools of any of us, Ezra, and my concern is for you as well."
"I know and I thank you for your concern, Nathan," Ezra said sincerely. "If perchance, unlikely though it is, I find myself assailed by the emotion to which you allude, I assure you I shall attempt to follow your advice."
+ + + + + + +
The following afternoon, Ezra was sitting in the sheriff's office filling in for JD. He had not been there long when Buck strolled in. "Where's the kid?" he inquired.
"Mr Dunne has gone to call on Miss Casey and asked me to look after the office for a couple of hours."
"Oh. I'm surprised to see you away from Nathan's clinic," Buck observed, with a discernable note of sarcasm in his voice.
"Mr Jackson does not need me under foot. He will summon me if he deems it to be necessary."
"How is Vin, Ezra?" Buck asked. He had deliberately kept away from the clinic lest he lost his temper with Ezra or, worse, with Vin.
The gambler smiled. "He seems to be gradually improving. Mr Jackson is of the opinion that he should recover fully if we can but persuade him to stay in bed and ..."
Buck interrupted. "Well, at least he's given ya a task ya'll enjoy."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Keepin' Vin in bed."
The gambler's brow creased in some perplexity. "We are speaking about the same patient, are we, Mr Wilmington?" he asked. "I was unaware that Mr Tanner had altered his behavioural patterns to the extent that anyone could seriously contemplate receiving even a modicum of pleasure from trying to impose a period of bed-rest upon him."
"Who said anythin' about 'rest'? I don't imagine that was what ya had in mind when ya took him to yer bed," Buck retorted, belligerently.
Standish felt his hackles rise. Normally he had virtually unassailable control over his emotions, but his concern for the tracker had created a weak spot in his defenses and he felt his usual calm deserting him. "Just what are you implying?" he demanded icily.
"Just what I said. Ya wanta take a care what ya do, Ezra. That boy is Chris' property and he ain't gonna take kindly to ya poachin' on his preserves."
"Mr Tanner is nobody's property, but his own," Ezra retorted angrily, "and even if he was Mr Larabee's, that would be between him and me. You have no right to interfere."
"I've got every right! Chris is my oldest friend. He ain't here so somebody has to look after his interests."
"Somebody is! Me! It might have escaped your notice, but Mr Larabee specifically requested me to look after Mr Tanner in his absence."
"There! That proves it!" Buck exclaimed.
"Proves what?" the mystified gambler asked.
"It proves Chris sees Vin as his or he'd never have asked such a thing. Don't know why he trusted ya though," he added as an afterthought.
Ezra looked at him dumbfounded. He wondered what he could say that would not expose Vin's secret. Choosing his words as carefully as he could, he said, "The reason that Mr Larabee asked for my assistance is that Mr Tanner is still not completely recovered from his ordeal at the hands of the late, unlamented Mr Hudson. His request was an attempt to provide support for Mr Tanner rather than some misguided statement of ownership."
"Yeah, well I dunno all of what went on with Hudson 'cause ya've all been damned close-lipped about that, but I do know that Chris is fuckin' Vin and he won't want to share with ya."
"I beg your pardon, Mr Wilmington, but any such relationship between Mr Larabee and Vin is pure, and I use the word advisedly, speculation on your part."
"'Mr Larabee and Vin'," Buck echoed mockingly. "What's happened to 'Mr Tanner'? I suppose yer both on a first name basis now that ya know him so intimately."
"Mr Wilmington, the turn this conversation is taking will benefit nobody."
"Yeah, well ya might not want to talk about it, but ya can bet Chris'll have somethin' to say about it."
"So may I assume you intend to report your misguided suppositions to Mr Larabee?"
"Nope, not me! Ain't ya heard of killin' the messenger? Someone's bound to tell him though."
"By 'someone' I assume you to mean Mr Dunne?"
"Possibly. The kid's not awful good at keepin' secrets."
"Mr Wilmington, this does not come into the category of 'secret'. It is unfounded rumour, and unless you desire to cause unjustified distress to Messrs Larabee and Tanner, I suggest you inform your young protégé of that."
"So ya just gonna try and bluff yer way out, are ya? Well, ya don't fool me and ya won't fool Chris." With that he turned on his heel and stalked out.
Buck's blood was boiling. He had not intended to approach Vin, but since Ezra was being so unreasonable, there was no other way to defuse the situation before Chris' return. Accordingly, he stalked off in the direction of the clinic.
"Afternoon, Nate," he greeted. "Yer lookin' a trifle frazzled."
Jackson smiled tiredly. "Afternoon, Buck. I am afraid I have not had much sleep these last few nights. Ezra has been spelling me, but I find it difficult to sleep when I have a patient in the clinic. I guess I feel guilty not being with them." In truth, he had wondered why neither Buck nor Josiah had called in to lend a hand, but refrained from asking, assuming them to have had additional duties around the town in Larabee's absence.
"Ez reckoned he's improvin'."
"Yes, he seems to be on the mend. In fact, we are contemplating moving him to Ezra's rooms tomorrow. He's pleased about that. You know how twitchy the clinic makes him and he seems to have developed a real attachment to Ezra," he added, unaware that the innocent comment was fuelling Buck's fears.
Moving him? To Ezra's rooms? Buck had to stop that plan. "Look, Nate, iffen he's so much better, why don't I keep an eye on him for a bit? You go out and get some fresh air."
"Thanks, Buck, I think I'll do just that. Come on in and I'll tell Vin what's going on. He'll be happy to see a new face." He ushered Wilmington into the next room.
Vin was lying back on the pillows. His face was white and he looked exhausted, but his eyes were open and focussed. Seeing Buck, he smiled happily. "Hey, Bucklin, I'se wonderin' where ya got to," he rasped.
"Hello, Vin."
"Buck's going to stay with you while I go out for a few minutes, if that's all right with you, Vin."
"Sure, ya go. Ya must be tired of lookin' after me."
Nathan left the room and Buck waited until he heard the front door shut. Then he turned to Vin, his face serious. "We gotta have a talk, Vin."
"Wh-What's wrong, Buck?" Seeing his grim expression, Vin's first thought was that something must have happened to Chris and his heart missed a beat. It was all he could do not to blurt out a question about him, but he remembered Chris' warning about hiding their relationship and somehow choked back the words.
Buck hesitated, uncertain how to start.
The pause increased Vin's fear. He could not stop himself. "Is Ch-Chris ... Is Chris all right?" he faltered.
That gave Buck his opening. "As far as I know he's fine and we want him to stay that way, don't we?"
Vin stared at him in perplexity. What kind of a question was that? "Y-Yeah, course we do. Buck, what's goin' on? What are ya tryin' to tell me?" he appealed.
"Vin, ya know Chris' is yer friend and I can tell ya he's been a much happier man since he met ya."
"Yeah, ya've told me that before but ... but ..."
"Well, I don't want ya doin' anythin' that's gonna set him right back to what he was after he lost his family. I ain't gonna stand for it, Ya hear me, Vin?" As he spoke, he suddenly seized the front of Vin's nightshirt and yanked him into a sitting position.
The sudden movement set off one of Vin's coughing fits. "What the hell <cough> are ya doin', Buck? <cough> Let go!"
However, Buck held tighter, bunching the garment in one large hand.
Vin tried another tack. "Let go, Buck, or ya'll <cough> rip the lace offa Ez's fancy nightshirt."
"Ezra's nightshirt?"
"Y-Yeah, ya didn't think I'd own a purty thin' like this, did ya?" Vin asked, trying to lighten the situation and not realizing he had compounded it by drawing attention to the garment's ownership.
"Ya've got no shame at all, have ya?"
Completely confused by the accusation, Vin stared at him. "I'se wearin' this 'cause I got shame," he explained. "I usually sleep in my clothes, but Nate sez I ain't allowed to do that in his clinic and Ez lent ..."
"Ez lent!" Buck interrupted. "Ya've been seein' a sight too much of him."
"Chris said for me to stay with him."
"Yeah, but I don't think he meant in Standish's damned bed."
Vin wanted to explain about his nightmares, but to do that he would have had to explain about Hudson and so he bit his lip and looked down. "We were just sleepin'. We weren't ... We weren't doin' nothin' wrong," he muttered.
"Vin, ya know yer usually up at dawn. JD and I saw ya in his bed in the afternoon."
The tracker was still in a cleft stick. He could have reminded Buck that someone had beaten him, but that was yet another issue he did not want to raise. "I was feelin' a bit sick," he said lamely.
Since the tracker always cracked hardy and never admitted to any indisposition, unless Chris or Nathan forced him to do so, Wilmington did not believe Vin. However, he did not challenge the claim, commenting instead, "Well, I can't see why that meant Ezra had to stay in bed too."
Vin was getting increasingly agitated. Chris had told him what they did was illegal and Buck clearly thought that too. Not realizing that Wilmington assumed him to be Chris' lover, he thought Buck was trying to protect Larabee from finding out that his best friend slept with men. However, even if Buck was just trying to look out for Chris' interests, the tracker still felt it was nothing to do with him. "Look, Buck, we ain't doin' anythin' <cough> Chris'd disapprove of. Anyway, what Ez and I do ain't <cough> none of your concern," he added with a touch of bravado.
"I'm makin' it my concern."
"No, ya ain't! Just leave me alone!"
"Yeah, well I guess I've said my piece, so I'll go, but ya think on what I said." He let go of Vin abruptly and the tracker sagged back on the pillow. He stomped to the door, hesitated and then turned and snapped, "Let me give ya a warnin', Vin. Ya better have yer damned legs spread wide for Chris when he gets back or I'll give ya a good slappin' and then hold ya down for him myself." With that he stormed off.
Vin's jaw dropped in shock. He had been reading Wilmington wrongly. He had assumed that the ladies' man was against sexual relations between men, but that was clearly not the case. No, he was only concerned as to whom Vin let take him. And that final threat ... What the hell was he going to do? Buck was apparently going to beat him if he did not have sex with Chris and Josiah might well attack him again if he did.
And, even worse, neither was supposed to know there was even the slightest possibility of that occurring. Chris had told him that it had to be secret and he was going to think that Vin had betrayed his trust and said something. Betrayed his trust? Hell, what if Buck told Chris he had been having sex with Ezra? What would Chris do to him and, worse, what might that deadly gunman do to Ezra in his fury?
Vin felt sick. He could not cope with all this. He needed help to decide what to do. He needed Ezra. The gambler was clever. He would be able to advise him and, anyway, he needed to be warned so he would be on his guard against Chris.
He climbed awkwardly out of bed and stood swaying. He was still dizzy and weak after his head injury and subsequent loss of blood to say nothing about his brush with pneumonia. Fighting down the bile that rose in his throat, he looked around for his clothes, but they were nowhere to be seen.
Surely he was not going to have to go after the gambler clad in the frilly nightshirt. He decided to check the front room and, if necessary, to go to Nathan's bedroom and 'borrow' some clothes. It was fortunate that the healer was out.
However, unbeknownst to the tracker, Nathan would soon be hurrying back to the clinic, as in his haste, Buck was about to push past him on the sidewalk where he was conversing with Mrs Travis.
The latter was inquiring about the health of Mr Tanner. Although she knew she could not forgive him for, as she saw it, stealing Chris from her, she was also aware that she owed him a debt of gratitude for saving her son at cost to himself and so thought she ought to inquire after him for appearance's sake.
"Good afternoon, Mr Wil ..." she started, but was interrupted by the healer.
"Buck, what are you doing here? Who is with Vin?" Nathan demanded, a note of urgency in his voice.
Buck looked embarrassed. "I'm afraid we had a bit of a fallin' out, Nate," he admitted.
Mrs Travis was listening avidly. She was certain that she already had Josiah on her side and now Buck was clearly, if not with her, against Vin. Of course, if she had thought about it, she should have realized the ladies' man would oppose such disgusting goings on. Now she wondered if she could draw all five men to her side. That would show that scruffy tracker what people thought of the likes of him. Of course, it would be a salutary lesson for one Chris Larabee as well. Not that she wanted him back after what had happened. She had too much pride for that. However, if she could undermine his relationship with Tanner she would do so.
"Damn you, Buck!" Nathan exclaimed. "You know someone should be there. He's not well enough to be left on his own yet." He turned on his heel and hastened in the direction of the clinic.
As the healer moved away, Buck was surprised to feel Mary link her arm through his. "Would you walk with me, Mr Wilmington? I think we should talk," she said.
"It will be my pleasure, Mrs Travis," he responded gallantly, if untruthfully. Well versed in affairs of the heart, even if in error over Vin, he suspected she was seeking to enlist him on her side. He knew she had been the source of at least some of the adverse gossip about Chris and Vin, and wondered how much she knew for certain and how much was mere jealous speculation on her part. Of course, he knew about Chris' recent dinner date with her, but he also knew the rumours predated that and, correctly, suspected the date had been an act of attempted damage control on Larabee's part.
However, the whole situation was confused. The scoundrel could, in other circumstances, have sat back and enjoyed the whole thing, but there was too much at stake when his longtime friend was involved. He just wished Larabee would confide in him. There had been a blanket of secrecy over things ever since that damned problem with Hudson. He decided, one way or another, he was going to confront the gunslinger and make him explain what was going on. Hell, the man wouldn't shoot his oldest friend ... would he?