Part One
Chris leaned back in a chair on the boardwalk. He sat just outside the Saloon, but his eyes were fixed on the road into town. The air just above the ground wavered in the heat. Any movement sent puffs of dust into the air. He watched for a form to appear in the shimmering waves. Larabee shifted uneasily. It wasn’t unheard of for Vin to disappear for a few days. They all knew he got restless for the wide-open spaces. The town would begin to close in on him and he would take off. Too many years spent alone. And he was really only one day late in coming back… or so Chris kept telling himself. When the blond had asked if he’d be back for their usual Saturday night gathering in the Saloon, Vin had touched two fingers to the brim of his hat and ducked his head in acknowledgement before strolling out the swinging doors and down the street to the Livery stable.
Something kept nagging at the blond this time. It wasn’t as though he didn’t worry anytime Vin left the scant safety of the town they protected. There was always the chance that a bounty hunter was lurking around out there somewhere. No, the problem this time was the dreams. The first night he’d shrugged it off. But last night, he’d woken in a cold sweat and it had been hours before he could get back to sleep. It was so vivid that even now when he closed his eyes, he could see it clearly. Vin, hanging by his arms, his face a mass of bruises, but piercing blue eyes open and speaking to him. The lips moved. No sound emerged… but he knew in his heart that his friend called out his name.
~~<M7*M7>~~
Vin was suspended a foot above the ground, hung by his wrists from a high beam and bare-ass naked. He could no longer feel his hands. Something he considered a mercy at this point. At least it was an improvement over what they’d done to him earlier. He shuddered. Much better than standing with a rope around his neck, hands tied behind his back. He had managed to keep standing for a long time… till they took a fence rail to his leg. He heard his leg crack when it hit. The pain? He wouldn’t even let himself think about that. Still, he’d fought on, knowing that soon his friends would be looking for him. When they did the same with his other leg, he’d thought for sure it was time to die. But again he’d come back to the land of the living, hanging now by his wrists. The rope still cut into his neck. If he moved his head too much, he could feel it pressing on his windpipe.
They weren’t quite ready to let him go yet. Every time he blacked out, he wondered if it would be the last time. So far they’d stopped just short of letting him die. His last chance at a short break from the pain had been when she broke his right arm. It ached and throbbed now, bringing him out of the darkness he sought as often as he could. When he was floating in the black, beyond all pain, she left him alone. She enjoyed upping the ante on the amount of pain he could handle only when he could feel it.
The door opened. Full skirts swished. He could smell her across the room. That nauseatingly strong scent she drenched herself in. A small smile tipped the corners of his lips. He’d managed to throw up on her once, but that had been back when he still had something in his stomach to expel. Now, he was fortunate if he could get enough saliva together to spit in her face. Vin studiously kept his eyes closed, trying to keep his breathing slow and even.
“It won’t work, you know,” said the self styled Ella Gaines Larabee. She moved towards him, her hips swaying seductively. “I know you’re awake.”
Vin cracked his eyes open to glare at her. It was all he could do. The bruising and swelling on his face prevented them opening even halfway. She pushed on his torso, setting him swinging. He moaned through cracked and bleeding lips as the motion put pressure on the broken arm and set the pain afire in his legs. There was nothing but whistling breath to the complaint since he couldn't make a sound anymore. The rope around his neck had long ago broken his voice.
He saw what she carried and his body began to tense, knowing from past experience what was coming. Vin closed his eyes. Watching her didn't help him prepare for this. Acrid smoke burned his nostrils and he tried to hitch a deeper breath to clear the scent. It was irritating but the stench afterwards made him nauseous. The tracker could see her in his mind's eye, circling his body, holding the long cigarette she affected between her fingers… blowing gently on it to make the tip glow bright red, then reaching out swiftly to touch it…. just there. He barely even jerked when she pressed the glowing tip to his chest just above his nipple. His stomach tried to heave at the smell of burning flesh.
'You'd think I'd ’ve gotten used to it by now,' he thought.
She laughed. That half hysterical, totally insane laughter he felt sure he would hear in his nightmares for the rest of his life, however long he lived… which was looking to be shorter all the time.
“You’re just not any fun, anymore,” she said, pouting. “Guess we’ll have to do something about that!”
She changed the subject abruptly as she was prone to do. Ella could leap from thought to thought worse than any woman he’d ever met. He figured it was all part of the insanity though.
“Did you really think I’d let you come between us?” she asked now, circling him, drawing a line of blood around his torso with her ragged nails. “I saw from the start how it was. I saw how you looked at him. If it hadn’t been for all of you, he would have come back to me! He would have. But you came along, then the others… and he stayed away. I won’t have it, you hear!” She drew on the cigarette deeply, the tip glowing incandescently and ran it down his side.
“I figured it out, when you were visiting at my place. You! You’re the key to it all. It’s you that brought them all together. And you that keeps them together. I hear they call you ‘Robin Hood’.” She laughed wildly again. “Little do they know… They don’t know what you’ve done, do they? What you’ve been? I do.” Ella faced him now and leaned in close to his face, leering at him. “You have no idea what money can do, what knowledge it can buy you.”
Vin glared at her unblinking.
"But I do…." she whispered in his ear.
She began to circle again, taking an occasional drag on the cigarette to keep it lit…then pressing it to his bare flesh in the decreasing spaces that hadn’t already been burned. Vin didn’t even twitch anymore. After all, it was better than what happened when she sent in the hulking brute who currently did her bidding. Another shudder ran through his slender frame. He couldn’t think about that now. It took all his will to keep from giving Ella the screams and moans that she seemed to get such pleasure from.
“Do you think the others would still stand by you if they knew that it was him you were after all along? Will they still be your friend when they realize you want him? He’s not that way. He's a real man. I know…" She smiled triumphantly. "Did you guess that? I know what he likes… and I can give it to him. Not like you… with your half-savage ideas. I know what he needs too… what's best for him." Ella's eyes became crafty now. "You realized that, didn’t you? But still you tried to lure him away... looking at him with those big blue eyes. Sending out your invitations." Frustrated by his lack of response she screamed at him and spat in his face. "I won’t let you twist him to your perversions.”
“Better ‘n yours,” the tracker managed to croak out, his voice raw and broken.
Ever since she’d had him kidnapped by her henchmen, she’d been casting these accusations at him. Vin had begun to wonder himself, just what she thought she’d seen. He’d never intentionally done any of the things she claimed he had, but her words had made him start thinking. The Texan had begun to question his feelings and the connection he’d had to Chris Larabee from the moment their eyes met across that street
She screamed in rage, rushing over to grab a fence rail left lying handily in the corner. Ella swung it with all her fury at the body hanging before her. It impacted Vin’s shoulder. White-hot pain exploded through his body. He heard the grating pop as the joint dislocated. A silent scream broke from him. As the darkness claimed him once again, his lips moved without his volition, though no sound was heard.
“Chrrisss.”
Chris bolted up out of the chair, knocking it over. He strode off the boardwalk and down the street to the Livery. He’d waited long enough. The feeling that Vin was in serious trouble was escalating. He couldn’t sit quietly any longer. Josiah had exited the church and intercepted his path.
“Something wrong?” the big preacher enquired.
Chris looked over at him.
“That’s what I aim to find out,” growled Chris.
“This wouldn’t be about Brother Vin, would it?” enquired Josiah.
“What do you know?” asked Chris, stopping in his tracks.
“Just that I had a very disturbing dream about him last night.”
Chris’ eyes widened. “That makes two of us.”
“I’ll go with you,” said Josiah. “Let me tell the others and I’ll meet you at the Livery.”
The blonde gunslinger looked at him for a long moment. He was tempted to refuse the preacher’s company but then realized that if his dream was true, he might need some backup. The large man was always good for that, and he cared about the tracker too. Chris had seen them talking on occasion and knew they had formed some sort of friendship. Perhaps the young man had been able to voice some of his demons to the sympathetic ear of the older. He knew they shared some common understanding of Indian ways and spirituality. Chris nodded and continued towards the Livery.
An hour later they rode out, accompanied by the rest of the Seven. All of them had refused to stay behind. Chris was surly, both at the delay and their insistence on coming along. If Vin wasn’t in trouble, this was going to be very hard to explain. The young tracker would be truly pissed off.
~~<M7*M7>~~
As they thundered up to the house and barn, a figure on horseback left the back of the buildings. Chris pulled up. The female form was unmistakable. He twisted Pony’s head to follow and heard maniacal laughter drift back on the breeze. He was already reaching for his pistol when a frightened cry from J.D. caught his attention.
“Fire!” he heard Ezra shout at almost the same instant.
“Damn you, bitch,” screamed Larabee after the retreating woman. He’d seen she was alone. Pulling Pony around yet again, he raced back to the house. The flames were quickly engulfing it.
“That crazy bitch set the house on fire,” shouted Buck. “Do you suppose Vin’s in there?”
Chris was one step ahead of him. Fire did seem to be one of her favorite ways of dealing with people who got in her way. He leapt off Pony, running up the steps and into the front door. The flames beat him back but not before he caught a glimpse down the hall of a terrifying sight. He retreated out the front door. The others were manning the pump and buckets but it was obvious there was no hope. Chris jerked the black bandana from around his neck and doused it in one of the buckets. Tying it over his mouth and nose as he ran, he made his way around the house to a window he judged should be about right. He snugged his hat on his head and tucking his chin tight to his chest, dove through the glass. Josiah rounded the corner of the building just in time to see Chris disappear into the window.
“Fools rush in,” he muttered and ran to try and peer in. The smoke was boiling out the opening now and he could see nothing. “Chris! Chris!” he called frantically.
The blonde gunslinger hit the floor rolling and came up onto his feet. The room had been filled with smoke, but with the window broken it all began to rush out and the room cleared a little. He saw again what he had glimpsed down the hall. A form suspended naked by the wrists from the ceiling. Closer now, he could see the long brown hair. The blue eyes were closed but he knew his instincts had been right all along. Heat from the hall was intense. The walls of the room began to spout flames. Chris shrugged out of his duster. Wrapping it around his best friend, he cut the ropes. As the arms dropped, Chris was alarmed to see the mouth open in a long silent scream and those eyes open in heart-stopping agony.
“I’m here, Vin,” he shouted over the roar of the flames. “I’m getting you out of this Hell.”
There was no recognition in the eyes. A roar of flames burst in the door and Chris was almost thrown to the ground by the force of the hot wind that accompanied them. He gathered the younger man tightly against him and stumbled to the window. The blonde turned his back to the opening, intending to repeat his inward leap, hoping to cushion the tracker’s fall with his own body. He saw the hungry flames rushing towards them and felt the body in his arms arch as a tongue leapt out and licked at his friend's back.
Hastily, Chris threw himself backward out the window frame. He felt his head hit the edge, twisting his neck and causing darkness to rise up around him. Desperate, he clung to consciousness by sheer will. As their bodies left the window, he felt another form impact his, cushioning both their falls. It seemed they went backwards a long way as the person whose arms wrapped around them struggled to keep upright. The fight was lost as he felt all the air leave him in a whoosh when they hit the ground hard. He rolled to his side, still clasping Vin tightly to his chest, as he now struggled to draw air into his lungs. Someone tried to take Vin from him and he tightened his grip, unwilling to release him from the safety of his arms. A deep voice rumbled near his ear.
“It’s all right Chris,” said Josiah. “Let Nathan and Buck take Vin. They need to help him.”
Chris struggled to open his eyes. He couldn’t focus very well. All his attention seemed to be centered on forcing air back into his lungs.
“What’s wrong with him?” he heard J.D. ask.
“Just got the wind knocked out of him,” Nathan’s voice responded. “Take slow easy breaths, Chris,” the healer said gently. “Just a little deeper each time.”
Chris nodded and tried to still the panic rising in him as his oxygen starved body screamed for relief. He released Vin to the gentle arms that lifted him off his chest.
“Lord,” he heard Buck’s voice, “his hair’s still smoking!”
“Oh God!”
Ezra’s voice now. Chris heard a strangled cry from the kid and the breath of wind as he rushed past him. The sounds of retching came from nearby. Slowly the world around the gunslinger came back into focus. He realized that he lay on the ground, held by Josiah’s arms and propped against the broad chest. Nathan knelt over Vin who lay stretched out on the ground nearby. The burnt black duster had been peeled back to expose part of the young tracker’s battered body.
Chris looked at the still form and seeing the burns all over his best friend's body for the first time in full light felt his gorge rise. His heaving stomach fought his struggle for air and won. He rolled over and joined J.D. in losing the contents of his stomach. Josiah held his head gently, murmuring soothing words to him. The preacher used his wet bandana to clean his face and assisted him in sitting up again. The gunslinger made himself look again, taking in every burn, bruise, cut, the obvious swellings from beatings. One of his legs lay at an odd angle that indicated a break. The other was grossly swollen. The most disturbing sight was the tracker’s left side. The forearm was twisted horribly, shoulder obviously dislocated and the left side of his chest seemed caved in. Chris noted everything, cataloging it all, storing it away to wreak his vengeance on the woman who inflicted such pain and torture on the gentle soul of his friend.
“She’ll pay,” he growled. “I swear it, Vin, she’ll pay for everything!”
Nathan’s expression was grim as he bent over the body on the ground. Ezra and Buck hovered nearby, wanting to help yet stunned by the sight of their friend’s injuries.
“How bad is it?” Ezra ventured. “Will he…”
He couldn’t quite bring himself to say it. Nathan looked up, tears in his eyes.
“Can’t say yet,” said Nathan shaking his head. “Not even sure what all his injuries are, beyond the obvious ones. I’ve seen some folks in a bad way on the battlefield, but this…” The gentle healer broke off. To him, this was more horrific since it had been deliberately inflicted. “We’d best be prepared. If he’s hurt bad inside…”
“Can we move him without making things worse?” asked Buck, eyeing the still burning house.
Chris realized that sometime while he had been mostly out of it, they had pulled back from the smoking hulk, though they were still close enough to feel the heat. Occasionally, billows of smoke would snake their direction. Nathan considered the request.
“Get my bedroll,” he ordered. “We’ll slip it under him. I want to get us away from this smoke. Both of them don’t need to be breathing any more of it. We need water, lots of it…and to set up a camp. I need to boil some things.”
“Would the barn be far enough away?” asked J.D.
Nathan nodded. “We need some cover,” said the healer. “If the wind don’t turn wrong, should be all right.”
Chris insisted on helping them slide the bedroll under the still unconscious tracker. He bent over his head, speaking softly to him, telling him all they were doing. Gently, he brushed the singed hair back from the bruised and swollen face.
The five of them gathered around the rolled edges of the bedroll and slowly lifted. Nathan hurried on ahead to prepare a place. They settled the broken body tenderly on straw the healer had scraped together, covering him with a blanket. Buck and J.D. left to procure the splints that would be needed. Shortly, they could be heard taking out their frustrations, prying boards off another outbuilding. Josiah started a fire near the open door of the barn and kept an eye on the fire in the house, making sure it didn’t travel to any other buildings. Ezra, without even being asked, caught up two buckets and headed to the pump. Nathan pored over his saddlebags muttering to himself about all the things he would need.
Chris sat by Vin, using a clean bandana and some water to try to remove some of the smoke and blood so Nathan could see what needed tending. As he carefully sponged the black soot from his friend he inadvertently pressed on a tender place. With a sharp intake of air, the tracker’s eyes shot open. The deep sunk bruised eyes seemed unfocused at first but Chris leaned in closer.
“Hey, cowboy,” he said softly and laid a hand on Vin’s cheek to get his attention.
Crystal blue eyes tracked and locked with green ones. A tentative hand came up and trembling, brushed light fingers against Chris’ cheek. The eyes widened as much as possible and he gasped. Immediately he tried to curl up in agony as his ribs protested. Chris held him flat.
“No, Vin!” he said firmly. “Don’t move!”
The tracker’s head tossed back and forth as he tried to roll over. In his weakened state the blond held him easily. Vin began to make wheezing, rasping breaths.
“Nathan!” Chris called, but the healer was already there, having seen the young man's motion.
“Lift him up,” he told Chris. “Gently, be careful of the shoulder. I’ll hold his legs still.”
The gunslinger bent over and gently lifted the Texan into his arms, cradling him like a baby. He continued to struggle against their restraining hands but his breathing eased. Chris grabbed his chin and shook it gently.
“Vin! Vin!” he said raising his voice even more. “Stop! Be still, pard!”
Vin’s eyes cracked open, though painful tears continued to stream from them.
“What’s wrong, Nathan?” said Chris, alarmed. “I thought he recognized me but he’s not settling down.”
Vin’s thrashing slowed as he focused on Chris’ face once again. He struggled to free the arm pinned against the blonde’s chest. Chris loosened his hold and the tracker’s hand came up to tangle in his shirt, clutching convulsively. Nathan looked up at Vin.
“Vin!” said Nathan.
There was no response. Cautiously, he released the tracker’s legs and moved up beside them. The young man did seem to be focused on the lean gunslinger. His eyes were open though still dilated, only a tiny rim of the usual bright blue showing. The slender body, however, shook violently in spasmodic shudders. Chris looked up at Nathan.
“When I cut him down,” he said tersely, “he screamed but there was no sound.”
“Those marks on his throat,” said Nathan, “those are rope burns. Might be why he’s not talkin’ right now.”
Chris nodded, a spasm of pain crossing his face at what his closest friend had endured.
“Usually by now, he’s cussed both of us out,” Chris commented.
Nathan nodded, his brow furrowed. “Chris, just keep his attention,” he said. “We’ve got to clean him up some before I can set these bones.”
Nathan laid a gentle hand on Vin’s chest. The tracker’s eyes turned to him. The lips moved, but again there was no sound. Nathan laid a finger on his lips and shook his head.
“Don’t even try to talk,” he admonished.
Vin nodded, seeming to understand and grimaced as he tried to swallow.
The healer handed Chris a canteen. “Try to get him to sip just a little bit at a time.”
The gunslinger took the water and held it to Vin’s lips. He eagerly opened his mouth and the blonde drizzled in a small amount, watching closely as he swallowed. The raw marks on his throat had made Chris wonder if he would even be able to do that but although it seemed to cause him pain, he did.
“That’s something anyway,” commented Nathan, who had been watching also, ready to take action if he choked. He now began inspecting the dislocated shoulder. Ezra entered the barn with a bucket of water. “Good,” said Nathan. “Right here, Ezra.” He indicated the straw near him. Dipping a cloth in the bucket he began to clean Vin’s shoulder and arm.
Chris continued to trickle small amounts of water into the Texan’s mouth. His eyes were glued to the gunslinger’s face as if afraid he would disappear. Spasms of pain crossed his face as Nathan gently cleaned burns but he never took his eyes off Chris.
“Josiah’s got water on to boil,” said Ezra, kneeling by Vin’s feet and dipping another cloth into the water. He folded the blankets back and started cleaning a leg. Buck and J.D. came in carrying several long planks.
“How long you gonna need these?” asked Buck.
“Sole of his foot to just above his knee,” said Nathan, beginning to rub some ointment into the burns. “And tips of his fingers to his elbow. I’ll need those first.”
Buck nodded, measured quickly, and he and J.D. retired to a corner to cut them with a saw the kid had discovered. The big man had noticed how Vin focused on Chris with an almost unblinking gaze, his free hand wrapped in the black shirt. Shortly, J.D. brought Jackson the two splints.
“I’m gonna need to figure some way to get him on his side once we’ve got all these splinted,” Nathan said. “He’s got burns on his back too. We need to find some way to prop up his foot so it won’t put pressure on the other one.”
J.D.’s face lit up. “I know just the thing, Nathan,” he said. “Don’t worry! I’ll take care of it.”
The healer could see how pleased the young man was to be able to help with something and agreed.
“J.D.,” said Nathan. “Call Josiah. I’m gonna need all a y’all to help while I set these.”
The boy nodded and soon returned with the preacher who carried a boiling kettle of water with him.
Chris bent over Vin, talking to him, quietly telling him what they were going to do. He'd been shaking all over again as well as trying to cry out, though as usual, since they had found him, no sound emerged. The tracker's eyes were hazy and seemed to go in and out of focus only locking onto his occasionally now. The blond didn't believe he was aware of his surroundings, but still he spoke to him softly. Hoping that the sound of his voice would calm and re-assure the young man he was safe and with his friends.
Nathan directed them to their places. Buck and Josiah were to hold his legs still, Ezra and J.D. positioned themselves near his hips and Chris, having slid the young man back to the ground held his good shoulder. The healer took hold of the arm and quickly twisting and pulling on the shoulder at the same time, popped the joint back into place. Chris’ throat closed as he watched his friend arch against their hold and scream silently again.
Next, Nathan had Chris hold Vin’s head and both shoulders up slightly as he wrapped bandages around the tracker’s broken ribs, pressing them into the correct position and binding his right arm and shoulder into the bandages as well, to immobilize them. Then, he and Ezra moved the bone back into position in his forearm and between them bound the splints into place. Vin bucked and fought the painful procedures, opening his mouth in one silent scream after another. Buck, Josiah and J.D. held his upper legs and hips firmly to the ground. Although he struggled to get away from Nathan's ministering hands, he was pinned like a butterfly to a specimen board, forced to endure the agony.
The healer leaned back on his heels watching the younger man closely as he writhed in pain. The gentle man had hoped that his patient might pass into unconsciousness but Vin was tough as a piece of rawhide. He had withstood all the manipulation and not slipped into blessed oblivion. Nathan sighed, knowing they had only just begun the long road to dealing with the young tracker's injuries. At least, the healer noted, his breathing seemed easier now that the ribs were bound in place.
"We'll let him rest for a bit and catch his breath," he said, his face grim at the torture he had been forced to inflict on his friend.
Chris nodded and began to smooth the tracker's hair back from his face trying to persuade Vin to look at him. Suddenly, the young man's eyes popped open and focused on Larabee.
"Nathan," said Chris in an urgent voice, "I need a bucket. He's gonna be sick."
The black man grabbed an empty one and gently the two men rolled Vin to his side just in time. Tears flowed freely as the dry heaves tore at his broken ribs. When the spasms finally eased, they turned him back to settle him in Chris' arms. The blond took a wet cloth handed to him by Josiah and bathed the weary tracker's face. After his breathing had slowed and the pain subsided somewhat, Nathan caught the gunslinger's eye.
"We best get it over with," he said. "There's still a long ways to go."
Chris pressed his lips together. He bent over and laid a hand on the side of the tracker's face. Vin's eyes had drifted shut but they opened at the touch.
"Vin," said Chris, though he seriously doubted at this point whether the young man was hearing or understanding his words. "We've got to set your legs now. You just hang on to me and we'll get through this." The blond took Vin's free hand and brought it up to clasp his. He then wrapped his other arm tightly around the tracker. Vin seemed to get the idea and braced himself.
"We're ready," said Chris, bending over until his face was the only thing the young man could see. Nathan nodded and looked to the others.
The healer had decided to work on the left leg first since it appeared to be the more severe injury. He wished desperately for Plaster of Paris but had only simple wooden splints. Nathan placed each of the large men to put opposite pressure on the tracker's leg as he felt the break line and directed them which directions to turn or pull. Ezra took up a position to place the makeshift splints where the healer needed them as soon as the bones were in the right position.
"All right now," he said to Buck and Josiah. "On count of three, you both start slowly pullin'… gently at first."
The two men readied themselves and on Nathan's count began to pull on the leg. Chris tightened his hold as the tracker's back arched and another silent scream tore from his friend. The blond felt the body he held tighten impossibly against the agonizing pain of having the ankle manipulated back into the correct position.
"Let go," said Chris, urging the tracker to allow the encroaching blackness to claim him. He sensed the Texan's instincts were forcing him to hold on to consciousness far beyond any man's tolerance. Vin had not been able to relax or sleep without one eye open for so long that he couldn't let go even now. "It's all right," whispered the gunslinger. "I'm here, pard. I'll watch your back. Let it go…" It seemed that the young man understood or reached the absolute limits of his body's endurance, for he suddenly went limp. Chris bent over, almost sobbing in relief. His forehead touched the young man's. "Rest, Vin," he said softly. "We're here. You're safe now."
"Thank heaven," breathed Josiah, who had been watching the young man's agony and also hoping for such a result.
Now, they worked steadily, Nathan checking over and over to be sure the fracture was lined up perfectly before strapping the splints into place. With the young man unconscious he could press deeply on the less injured right leg to check for a break. He was unable to find a definite fracture but that didn't rule out a crack in Nathan's mind especially considering the swelling. The healer bound that limb in splints as well.
"Take a break for a bit," Josiah urged the man, seeing exhaustion beginning to set in from the emotional turmoil he was undergoing at having to deal with so many injuries in a close friend.
"Can't stop now," said Nathan. "Gotta finish before he starts to stir."
"All right then," said Buck. "What else can we do to help get this over with quick?"
"Well, we're ready for whatever J.D. has come up with now," said the healer. "Ezra, if you'd help me finish cleaning up the burns and cuts on this side, then we can roll him over and see what needs doin' on his back."
When Buck and J.D. returned with the young sheriff's contraption, Ezra and Nathan had just finished applying salve to the last of the burns. They had been stunned to discover as they slipped the blankets further and further down that there was no part of the young man not peppered with the small circular burns. Even his genitals and groin area had not been spared. Chris watched them grimly. He knew what those meant, had seen that particular type of burn before. All three of them choked back nausea at the thought of what torture the tracker had been subjected to.
The healer inspected what J.D. had prepared which turned out to be an old three-legged milking stool. The young man had sawed off the legs after careful measuring and when they placed the stool over Vin's splinted leg, there was just enough clearance. Buck and Josiah carefully lifted the other leg up onto the stool as Chris, Nathan and Ezra together rolled the tracker as far onto his chest as they could without twisting him too much. Nathan lifted the blanket that had rolled with him slightly.
"Oh God," he whispered.
Chris, who was beside him, heard the exclamation and looked down at what had unsettled the calm healer. His eyes turned icy, lips drawn back in a snarl.
"I'll tear that bitch limb from limb," he growled.
"J.D.," said Nathan quickly. "We're gonna need lots more water boiled. Buck, would you bring me some more bandages from my saddle bags. Josiah…"
The big preacher laid a hand on the ex-slave's arm. When their eyes met he knew that the preacher had seen also.
"Come on, Kid," said Buck with false joviality. "I'll help ya with the water."
Nathan looked up to see stark pain in the Wilmington’s eyes. He knew and would keep the boy away. The healer's gaze traveled on to the gambler whose eyes were glued to the tracker's form as his throat worked in an effort to keep from rushing for the bushes outside the barn.
"Ezra," the dark man said quietly.
The gambler's eyes came up and locked with Nathan's. "I am at your service," he said in an even more exaggerated drawl. "Let us expedite what must be done before our scruffy friend returns to the land of the living and bashes us over the head for daring to molest his person in the name of saving his miserable life." The southerner almost choked on the last words.
Moving quickly, Ezra rose and brought another bucket of water close. Setting it beside the dark man, he knelt and arranged the blankets so that most of the tracker's dignity was preserved.
"God," he muttered, "so much blood." He swallowed convulsively once again. "Our Mr. Tanner is a truly courageous individual, to have survived thus far."
Nathan nodded, dipping a fresh cloth in the bucket. "I'm gonna clean this bigger burn first, Ezra," he said, accepting the southerner's offer of assistance. "Then you get some of that salve on it, while I…" He trailed off, a lump rising in his throat as he considered what atrocities this young man had been subjected to. Nathan pulled himself together. "Chris, Josiah," he continued, knowing these two would not be sent away either. "You just be prepared in case he starts comin' to. And bring us hot water when it's ready. I'm gonna need to clean this all up real good or we'll be fighting infection too."
Nathan made quick work of the large burn on the tracker's upper back. Steeling himself, he folded the blanket back further. Josiah turned his head, fighting back tears. Gently, the healer began to swab away the dried blood. Ezra handed him more wet cloths and he laid them over the young man's lower back and buttocks, attempting to soak some of the layers of filth and blood away. The gambler proved to have a delicate touch as he started at the young man's knees and began working his way upward, cleaning in an effort to uncover any possible injuries there. Chris cushioned the Texan's head in his lap and watched with feral eyes as the healer and gambler steadily revealed more… burns, lash marks from some type of whip and knife cuts. When they had finally cleared away the layers of blood and grime, as well as other substances none of them wanted to guess at too closely, there were clear imprints of large fingers on the tracker’s hips, waist and sides. As though someone had gripped hard enough to bruise.
"Nathan," said an emotion-roughened voice.
The dark man looked up into green eyes.
"What did they do to him?" asked Chris. The blond reached out a hand to touch an S-shaped curve low in Vin's spine. "I-Is he going to be able to walk?"
Larabee swallowed heavily. A dark-skinned hand covered the long fingers.
"Don't worry none about that, Chris," said the healer. "He's always had that curve in his back." Nathan inspected it closely. "Usually it's a bit worse than this."
"I never knew," said Chris. "Do you suppose it hurts him a lot?"
"Yep," said Nathan. "I read up on it. It's called scoliosis. He's in pain most all the time. That's why he's always leaning against somethin'. Tryin' to ease the hurtin'."
"God! Nathan…" said Chris. "What he must go through every day. No wonder he always says he's fine. He's so used to pain, he accepts it."
"I reckon that's most of it," agreed Nathan. "He still don't like bein' coddled much."
"Yeah," said the blond, tracing the curve with a finger, "we're in for a long haul on this one." The dark man sighed. Chris looked up at him quickly. "He is going to make it, isn't he, Nathan?"
"I'll do everything I can, Chris," said Nathan, "but mostly…it's up to him. Like you said, he's gonna have a long road back."
"We'll be there with him every step of the way."
"I hope that'll be enough," said the healer.
"It has to be…" said Chris, grimly. "It has to be."
The gentle healer found he now had to face the unenviable task of violating his friend’s privacy in order to determine the extent of his injuries. He discovered brutal tears and more burns but as far as he could tell, no irreparable damage. Hoping he wasn’t missing anything internal, the dark man cleaned and anointed the area. Nathan’s eyes met Chris’ over the young man’s body and he saw a terrible rage at what had been perpetrated on their friend, their brother. Both wondered how the young man would deal with the repeated assault that had obviously been inflicted on him.
Having cleaned the young tracker as well as they could at this point, they wrapped him well in warm blankets and made him as comfortable as possible. Now, all they could do was wait… and hope. Chris sat at the Texan's head, a hand on his shoulder. Josiah had made some stew while he tended the fire. He dished up plates for them. Chris refused, only accepting a cup of coffee. The others settled down to wait. Nathan checked the tracker frequently, watching for signs of the inevitable fever and peeling layers of blankets off as the heat in the battered young body rose.
Evening settled in. They made themselves at home in the barn, arranging a sleeping area, makeshift boxes for tables and places to sit. Chris never moved. Ezra watched him for a long time. The man seldom even blinked. He went to consult with Nathan. Had their leader perhaps been more injured in the rescue than they had first supposed?
Nathan gathered his resources and they all approached the pair in the quiet corner, lamp turned low, giving the area an intimacy and isolation from the rest of the barn. Chris simply shook his head at the healer's request.
"I'm fine," he said, choking on the words.
It was Vin's stock phrase when injured. But, truth be known, Chris felt no pain. No physical pain. His heart however, felt shredded from seeing his friend so broken and wounded. Sinking into a morass of guilt and loss, his eyes appeared glazed. They left him alone to his reflections. Chris Larabee would not accept any company or consolation this night.
~~<M7*M7>~~
Buck approached the shadowy form leaning against the far side of the corral. There was no movement. The big gunslinger settled beside the still man.
"How you doin' Ez?" he asked.
"I am perfectly well and good, Mr. Wilmington," responded Standish. "Why would I not be?"
"Because it shook you pretty good when you saw what had happened to Vin," said Buck, softly.
"I was merely concerned for the obvious pain of one of our number," said Ezra.
"I've seen that look before, Ezra," replied Buck, softly.
"I repeat, Mr. Wilmington," said the gambler. "I do not know of what you are speaking."
"You know where I grew up," said the big man, looking off into the darkness.
"I am aware," replied Standish quietly.
"Sometimes the men would get rough and force the girls. I remember the look in their eyes." Buck turned and laid a gentle hand on the southerner's shoulder. "Just wanted you to know… you aren't alone anymore. I'll kill anyone who hurts you like that again. Same as Chris'll make her pay for what she had done to Vin. Same as we all will."
The big gunman turned and walked away into the night. Ezra watched him go. Only when he had totally disappeared into the night did he draw a shaky breath.
"Where were you, my friend, the first time…" he whispered, tears glistening in his eyes. "If only…"
~~<M7*M7>~~
The lean blond's mind ran in circles, going back over the last days. His hand unconsciously stroked through the tangled curls on the head beside him. He should have followed his instincts, should have come looking for Vin sooner.
Why had that bitch latched on to him? Was it simply that he was away from the others? Or did she realize how much the blue-eyed Texan meant to him? Did she have her men lie in wait for him? And why the extended torture? She knew where Chris was. What information had she been trying to get from him? Or was it because she knew he cared? His mind roved back over the frustrating trail they had followed to this location.
They had ridden out of town with the majority of them half expecting to meet the slender young man on his way back in. Chris had unerringly ridden westward. Almost like a bloodhound on the scent, he wove his way through the brush. The rest of the men never questioned him, somehow realizing that if they brought his attention to what he was doing it would break the fragile sense of direction Larabee was following.
When they found the evidence of a scuffle, all questions of the man in black's uncanny connection to their sharpshooter fled their minds. The blond cast back and forth and found hoofprints belonging to Peso. They were about to ride out in pursuit of those tracks when Chris suddenly turned back to the area where the dirt was most disturbed. Kneeling by a flattened bush, he reached his hand underneath and drew out a silver object. Beating it against his hand to shake out the fine dirt, he blew on it gently to clean it off more, eliciting a mournful sound. Polishing it with the tail of his black duster he looked it over carefully. His breath caught in his throat audibly.
"Isn't that…" said J.D. with a gasp.
"Yep, son," said Josiah.
"Vin's harmonica," said Nathan in a grim tone.
Chris wrapped it in a bandana and tucked it deeply into the pocket of his duster. Leaping onto Pony, he took off on the trail, the other five men close on his heels.
~~<M7*M7>~~
Leaning his head against the wall behind him, Chris attempted to find a comfortable position. The knot on the back of his head was tender and whenever he tried to lean back it would remind him of its presence. His back, too, felt bruised from the fall that had knocked the wind out of him. Hiding his injuries from Nathan wasn't easy but he knew the healer would make him go somewhere else and rest if he found out. Leaving Vin's side right now was not something he could stomach. He needed to be right there…. assure himself that the young Texan was as comfortable as possible and above all… still breathing steadily. His friend's horrible injuries were all his responsibility. It was a burden Chris Larabee had shouldered before, guilt and responsibility. He'd had no chance with Sarah and Adam to help. It had been too late. At least he could and would do this for Vin.
The younger man grew restless and Larabee ran his hand through the long curls again, trying to calm him. It didn't seem to help this time. Vin's body began to tremble and Chris moved to gather him up in his arms again. In the dim light he could see that the tracker's eyes were still closed but his mouth moved as if he were trying to cry out. The blond began to hum softly, rocking slowly as he would have Adam when he was ill. Gradually, the young man relaxed in his hold. The shaking stopped and he seemed to be resting more peacefully.
As he continued to hold the slender body against his chest, Chris speculated on just how he had followed Vin's trail. At the time he had been too out of his head with worry that bounty hunters had snatched him and were headed to Tascosa. When the trail continued west, that possibility seemed less likely by the mile. It was all a blur, their headlong pursuit westward. He vaguely remembered the others forcing him to halt for brief periods to rest and water the horses. The smell of the food they cooked for themselves turning his stomach until he would stagger into the brush to throw up everything he'd managed to choke down. The dry heaves that tore him afterwards left him weak and shaking. Then he would collapse by the fire and fall into a heavy sleep for a short time… only to wake himself screaming as blue eyes pleaded silently in his dreams. He would rise and plunge ahead on the trail again, the other men hastily packing up to rush and catch up to him once more.
They had persuaded him to stop by a town. Supplies were getting short. Ezra had made his way to the Saloon. He'd emerged only a short time later with a "cat at the creampot" grin on his face. When he informed them that a woman answering to Ella's description had recently purchased some property near there, Chris' eyes had turned icy green. She had been seen frequently in town, making purchases to furnish the ranch house as well as picking up items ordered from back East. The clincher had been when he had discovered the woman named herself Mrs. Larabee. The gunslinger only snarled at the information, striding to Pony and galloping out of town, the others struggling to catch up once again.
~~<M7*M7>~~
As the night progressed, Vin's fever rose. He fought the blankets, out of his head yet terrified of being restrained. Chris released his hand, which flailed around until it latched onto his shirt… at which point he settled. The healer sat nearby watching, checking the younger man often. He had seen how Chris' touch calmed the Texan since he'd brought him out of the burning house. Especially when he began to shake and cry out as the young man had frequently done in the last long hours. The gathering heat in the tracker's body concerned him. Rising, he stepped outside the barn to where Josiah kept watch on the fire. Finding Buck and J.D. there also, he outlined his needs to the three men who assured him they would find a way to provide something that would solve his problem.
Nathan, Chris and Ezra took turns bathing what small exposed places there were on the young man, trying to cool him down. Still, Vin's body gave off radiant waves of heat as his temperature climbed higher. His head tossed back and forth, the long brown hair soaked in perspiration. The tracker's mouth opened often in silent cries of pain and distress. His breath rasped in his chest.
After he had dozed off half a dozen times, only to jerk awake, Nathan persuaded Chris to take a walk, clear his head. He hoped Josiah could convince him to eat something. The blond found himself standing and staring at the burnt shell of a house. The smell of smoke still hung about it. All the others had been avoiding it, but he'd been drawn there, the smell dredging up old memories. If they hadn't ridden up when they did… if he'd taken off after Ella. The gunslinger sighed. It seemed all the "what if's" were occupying his mind. A determined look on his face, Larabee turned away from the blackened timbers. No more speculation. He would concentrate on getting Vin through this… to safety. Then he would track down his past… Ella… and settle it once and for all.
Chris had taken a short trip just beyond the corral to relieve himself and then had hunkered down by the fire thinking perhaps he could eat something after all, when he heard Nathan's voice raised. He dropped the plate Josiah had handed him and ran for the barn. The gentle healer was trying to restrain Vin who was fighting like a wild creature.
Larabee ran forward and immediately wrapped his arms around the Texan, murmuring soothing words and rocking him in his grasp. The hand came up to clutch Larabee's shirt again. The young man's body was shaking like a leaf in a high storm. His trembling hand pulled loose the buttons of Chris' shirt, tearing it open. The gunslinger held him tightly against his chest and began to hum softly as he stroked his fingers through wet ringlets. Gradually, the shudders eased and the young man sunk back into the unconscious stupor he had been in most of the time since his rescue. Buck Wilmington watched from the spot he had laid his bedroll, the song Chris hummed very familiar. How many times had he heard the same tune when the blond gunslinger soothed Adam to sleep?
Vin, awash with pain and hazy flashes of memory, wandered, lost in an uncharted dry land, recognizing none of the landmarks. Light and heat consumed him. Always he searched for something…someone? His pain-fogged mind couldn't recall which it was… or what he was supposed to be doing. Looking down, he discovered he held a black hat in his hand. That was it. He was looking for Chris. He needed to give him his hat. His friend would die of exposure in this heat without his hat. He called out his name again and again till his throat ached and his voice only a croak. Suddenly, Chris stood there before him.
'Gotta get you outta here, cowboy. Get you someplace safe.'
'I'll be all right, pard. You're the one who's in danger.'
The blond held open his arms in offered solace and protection. The tracker fell into the embrace, a sob escaping him in relief. It would be all right now. Everything would be right again. He was where he belonged.
Chris' arms were wrapped around him and the pain receded. A cool breeze brushed his face. Then the scene around him changed. It was dimmer, cooler. Vin felt bare skin against his own and realized they were both naked. This was wrong. He shouldn't be here, couldn't be here. But his mind wouldn't remember why. He sighed and curled up in Chris Larabee's arms, their bodies entwined, the warm reassuring feel of firm flesh beneath his fingertips. Long slender fingers combed through his hair, soothing and calming him. The pain was bearable now. Gentle motion lulled him and a soft sound vibrated through his body. He sunk into welcome darkness.
Chris held his friend in his arms, his thoughts on all the paths they had taken together. When had the young man come to be so important... to mean so much? So much that he couldn't contemplate what his life would be like without those blue eyes. Blue eyes making him smile with their mischievous flickers, keeping him steady when anger threatened, pulling him back from the burned hulk that his life had become… back into the sunlight and blue skies. Blue… the color of eyes that had become his conscience… his reason to crawl out of bed in the morning. Eyes that scourged him when he sought the bottle too frequently… encouraged him when he took on noble causes. Chris felt a shudder run through him. He had never intended to let anyone become so important to him again. When had that damned scruffy tracker slipped past the walls he'd so carefully built?
~~<M7*M7>~~
Buck was asleep, though lightly, alert to sounds from the other side of the barn. He knew that Nathan wasn't sleeping… or Chris. A soft moan closer drew his attention. He opened his eyes and saw Ezra, who had laid his bedroll near by, shifting uneasily in his sleep. The ladies' man smiled, figuring the soft gambler was having trouble finding a comfortable spot on the hard floor. Then a whimper followed. He raised his head.
"Nooo…noooo…" came the soft cries. "Don't… pleease…"
Buck rose from his blankets. He crept closer to the now tossing form.
"Ezra…. Ezra," he called softly, knowing it would be taking his life in his hands to startle the gambler from sleep.
"Huurrrrttsss…" moaned the man, "Help… help me… pleeeassse…"
Buck felt his heart lurch at the plea. Deciding maybe a firmer approach would work, he lunged forward, grabbing up the southerner and wrapping his arms tightly around him. At least this way he couldn't shoot him… he hoped. Ezra cried out wildly and fought him.
"It's all right," soothed Wilmington. "It's just me… Buck. You're safe, Ezra," he crooned as he held him tightly against his chest. “It was a bad dream."
Slowly, his voice seemed to break through the younger man's nightmare and he settled in the big gunman's arms.
"Kindly unhand me, Mr. Wilmington," Ezra said a low voice.
"Just as soon as I'm sure you're not gonna shoot me when I do, Ez," said Buck.
"I shall do worse than simply shoot you if you do not immediately release me," replied the southerner.
"Now, now, Ez," said Buck, "ain't no need for that. I was trying to help ya is all. You were havin' a really bad dream, but I couldn't wake ya by callin' your name. So, I just figured it was best to hang on to ya till you got awake enough not to shoot me."
The big man lifted a hand to support the gambler's head. Ezra stiffened. Buck wasn't sure if it was from the fear of having revealed his inner turmoil or from the touch of his hand, as gentle as it was.
"Did-did I say anything?" he asked quietly.
"Nothing I could understand," soothed Buck immediately, realizing his concern. "But you were thrashing around so much I was afraid you'd hurt yourself."
The younger man slumped in Wilmington's arms. "I apologize for disturbing your slumber, Mr… Buck."
"Ain't nothin' to apologize for, Ez," said Buck in a soft voice. "We all have our nightmares. And what happened to Vin is enough to give 'em to us even if we didn't have our own shit to mess with."
The big man suddenly realized that he had been softly stroking the younger man's hair as he spoke to him. Standish was leaning on him now and had allowed his head to rest on his shoulder for a moment. The strands felt like finest silk against his fingers. He stilled his hand, searching for a response from Ezra. Either the conman hadn’t noticed his stroking fingers, or he wasn’t complaining about the soothing touch.
"Are you going to grant my release now, Buck?" asked Ezra in a soft voice.
The words sent a sudden shock of desire through Wilmington. He went still, trying to control his reaction. The last thing he needed right now was to frighten the southerner again just when he'd finally gotten past those walls a little bit.
'Get your mind outta there, Wilmington,' he told himself. 'That ain't what he meant… and you know it!'
Buck had always been very verbal about his appreciation of women. What he had kept silent about was his equal appreciation of men. He'd had a 'well-rounded' education of all the possible going's on between the sexes growing up around the girls his mother worked with. She had taught him tolerance in those matters among all the other things she'd impressed on him. It hadn't been too difficult. Where the heart was involved, Buck Wilmington had always found himself inclined to leniency. He now found himself appreciating the firm body next to his. Standish might look soft but he definitely wasn't. The warm muscles under his hand were very firm. Pulling himself together, he pushed those thoughts away.
"All ya had to do was ask, pard," he said grinning and loosened his hold. Ezra moved away slowly.
"While I do appreciate your… consideration, Buck," said Standish, looking up at him in the dimly flickering lantern light. "perhaps a little less hands on approach might be wisest next time…"
'Next time! Did he say… next time?' Wilmington smiled broadly. "I'll remember that, Ez," he promised, looking into green eyes that for once told all their owner's emotions.
The southerner broke the eye contact and began straightening his blankets. Buck gave him a hand, then sliding his own bedroll a little closer, settled back down. Standish watched his movements with narrowed eyes.
"I have an idea," said Buck.
"Yes, Mr. Wilmington," said Ezra coldly, instinctively cringing at what he perceived to be the motives behind the other man's actions.
"If you'll just lay that pop shooter of yours - and anything else ya've got close by - a little bit away from ya. Then if you start havin' another nightmare, I'll wake you up without takin' precautions like I did. Just don't think Nathan needs any more patchin' up to be doin' right now."
Ezra's eyes widened. It wasn't what he'd expected, especially after feeling Buck's hands in his hair, not to mention something else he'd felt before the big man had eased away.
"I'll be right here, between you and the door. Can't nobody get to ya, 'cept through me. What do ya say?"
The southerner looked into earnest blue eyes. Slowly, he took both his guns and placed them just out of easy reach. He added a knife and his derringer to the collection.
"I promise ya won't be sorry," said Buck earnestly.
Ezra nodded. "And now…" he drawled, "may we please return to our slumbers? I require my beauty rest."
"Aw hell, Ez," said Buck with a chuckle, "we all know that you're grouchy as a grizzly in the springtime till at least noon…"
'Sides,' Buck thought, 'you get any more good-looking, you'd have to fight them off with more guns and knives than ya got there.'
The conman arched an eyebrow at him and Buck felt his heart lurch. This man who pushed them away with his words, yet beckoned with his eyes fascinated him.
"Go to sleep, Ezra," he said softly, "I'm watchin' your back."
The green eyes softened but the gambler simply settled down into his blankets and rolled over to court sleep once again. The big gunman watched him for a moment before laying back down on his bedroll. He listened carefully for the sound of the gambler's breathing and was rewarded with the sound of it deepening as the man relaxed into sleep. Ezra had trusted him to keep watch over him as he slept. Buck heard a soft snore from over near the stalls where J.D. had bedded down near the horses. The kid had apparently slept through all the noise and commotion.
Josiah turned and made his way back into the darkness as Buck and Ezra began their conversation. Drawn by the cries, he had left Nathan by the fire to check on the other members of their band.
"Was everything all right?" asked Nathan as Josiah returned to the fire.
He squatted, tending the flames and the water kept heating there.
"All's well, brother," said the preacher. "Ezra was just having a bad dream. Buck woke him up and they were talking. Bucklin seemed to be handling him just fine… so I left them to their privacy." He watched the dark man as he efficiently fed the fire. "Reckon seeing Vin stirred up some old memories."
Nathan looked over at the large man as he settled himself on the ground beside him.
"Reckon it has for more than one of us," he commented.
Their eyes met and Josiah nodded.
"We all have our demons…"
"Some of us more than others," Nathan said tersely, glancing towards the barn.
Josiah knew he was thinking about the two friends, their leader and his second in command. One with his life in the balance, the other his sanity. The healer stabbed at the bandages boiling in a large pot. A large hand covered his arm.
"You're doing the best you can," said Josiah in a soothing deep voice.
"But it may not be enough, Josiah," said Nathan, a sound of despair in his voice.
"If you can't heal Vin's body and Chris can't heal his soul," said the large man, "then there's none on this Earth that could have done more. As for Chris, he's gotta want to come through this. All any of us can do for him is watch… and wait."
The dark man looked up into compassionate blue eyes, his own brown ones filling with tears. Josiah put a long arm around the man's shoulders and drew him close.
"I have faith in you, brother," he said softly.
Nathan nodded and allowed himself to accept both the comfort and confidence his friend bestowed on him.