February 9, 2005
Chris looked up from where he sat at the table inside his cabin and looked out the window. He’d heard Vin’s approach; Vin’s horse had whinnied a greeting to his, and now he waited for the tracker to join him for dinner.He’d invited Vin out to the cabin for a few days, to exchange the hustle and bustle of the town for some peace and quiet and companionship. Vin had readily agreed.
So Chris continued to chop up the vegetables he’d gathered - he’d actually grown some this summer - to add to the rabbit stew. After he’d put the carrots into the pot, he realized that Vin was taking longer than he should, and went out to see why.
When he opened the door, shielding his eyes from the rain blowing around, he saw that Vin still sat astride his horse, which stood in front of the porch.
“Vin?” Chris called, worried now.
“Hey, Chris,” Vin returned, his voice strained.
Chris left the porch and went to Vin’s side. “What’s going on? Come on in outta the rain.” When Vin still made no effort to dismount, Chris put his hand on Vin’s leg and gave it a squeeze. “Vin? What’s wrong?”
He looked Vin over quickly - there was no blood anywhere, no bullet holes, no bruises showing - just some mud on his boots and legs, but that was to be expected after all the rain the area had been getting lately.
“Vin?”
“Can’t move, Chris,” Vin replied. “My back’s on fire. I think I tore it all up,” he added.
Chris heard the pain in Vin’s voice, saw how he was holding himself as still as possible, as if even the slightest of movements was painful. He tried to figure out the least painful way to get Vin off the horse.
Looking around, he spied the water trough near the corral.
“Be right back,” he told Vin and rushed over to the trough.
Glad it had only been about half-full, he shoved against the side of it, tipping it and all the water it had accumulated, over. Once the water had emptied, Chris dragged the wooden box toward the cabin and Vin. He tipped it upside down and stood on top of it, now two feet closer to Vin, able to put an arm around Vin’s waist.
“Easy now, Vin,” he soothed. “Can you get your right foot out of the stirrup?” he asked. Vin nodded and did so. “Now your left,” he instructed, and again, Vin obeyed. “I’m just gonna slowly pull you toward me, Vin,” Chris continued.
Vin put his left arm around Chris’s shoulders. Vin cried out at the very first movement, his fingers digging into Chris’s shoulder as Chris pulled him off the horse. Chris was going slow, trying to be careful, trying to minimize the pain, but was just dragging it out, instead.
“Just do it, Larabee!” Vin yelled. “Can’t hurt me no worse!”
Understanding, Chris gave a mighty tug and pulled Vin off the horse to join him standing on the overturned trough. The two nearly fell to the ground as Vin’s knees buckled, but Chris tightened his grip and held them up.
Vin was practically hyperventilating now, the burning pain radiating from his lower back reaching nerves from head to toe. He was barely aware of Chris lowering them to the ground and forcing him to put one foot in front of another to make it into the house, out of the rain.
“Let’s get you out of these wet clothes,” Chris said, still holding Vin up.
Vin just nodded his head and let Chris begin stripping him of his wet things.
“So why don’t you tell me how this happened? Horse throw ya?” Chris asked, throwing Vin’s coat toward the fire. He’d hang it up properly later.
Vin shook his head. “Ran into Mrs. Carver on my way out here,” he began. “Her cart was stuck in the mud; her mule wasn’t strong enough to get it out.”
Chris began walking Vin slowly toward the bed.
“I knew it was just bein’ stubborn, too. Told her to keep at it with the reins while I pushed from the back. Told her not to stop once it got goin’.”
“I guess you pushed a little too hard?” Chris surmised, gently pushing Vin down to sit on the bed. He removed Vin’s boots and pants.
“Had to lift it up and over a rock,” Vin replied, hissing as Chris lifted his leg up too high. After he got his breath back, he continued, “Felt somethin’ give when I did, but it didn’t really kick in until I got back on my horse to come here.”
“So it’s just your back? Pulled the muscles?” Chris asked.
“Think so. Really could use some whiskey ‘bout now, Cowboy,” Vin practically begged.
Chris patted Vin’s knee and went to the cupboard. He pulled out a bottle of whiskey and a mug. He filled the mug and brought it over to Vin.
“Here you go, Vin. Might as well drink it all down. Gonna need it to get you flat out.”
Vin didn’t waste any time gulping down the whiskey; the burn in his throat was nothing compared to the pain in his back. When the mug was drained, he held it out to Chris and rasped, “More.”
A few minutes after Vin finished the second mug and handed it back to Chris, Chris asked, “You ready?”
“Yeah.”
Chris held onto Vin as he eased him down onto the bed, laying him onto his side. Vin couldn’t help but let out a loud groan, his breathing becoming harsh as he bore the pain.
“On your stomach, Vin,” Chris instructed. “That way I can put some hot compresses and liniment on your back,” he explained.
“Give me a sec,” Vin got out.
A few painful minutes later, Vin was lying face down on the bed. Chris covered him up with a blanket.
“Let me get your clothes dried out and some water warming,” he told Vin and received a muffled, “mmm” in reply.
+ + + + + + +
Chris spent the evening in a somewhat confused state.
Somewhere between changing warm compresses and rubbing liniment onto Vin’s torn muscles, he realized that he was enjoying taking care of his friend. While he realized Vin’s injury wasn’t a good thing, his hands were acting out part of a long held fantasy, and that felt absolutely good. If guiltily so.
“You’re quiet, Cowboy,” Vin whispered, breaking Chris’s thoughts.
“Not much to say, I guess,” Chris replied. “You feelin’ any better?” he asked.
“Only hurts when I move.”
“I guess you shouldn’t move, then.”
Vin laughed and then said, “Wish that were true, Chris, but... well... all that whiskey you been pourin’ down my throat’s wantin’ to come out, if you know what I mean.”
Chris nodded his head and patted Vin’s shoulder. “Hang on a minute.”
He looked around the cabin for something that would substitute for a chamber pot. All he could come up with, other than his good stew pot and a kettle, was an old vase Mary had brought out to him, filled with flowers at the time, for a housewarming gift after he and the others had raised his roof. He shrugged his shoulders, took it down off the shelf and brought it over to the bed.
“I guess if we can just get you on your side...?” he suggested.
The two men worked together, and after a few painful moans from Vin, a relieved sigh followed.
“Wanna try lying on your back for a bit?” Chris asked. “Maybe get some food into you, now?
Got some rabbit stew that’s still good.”
“Can’t hurt me no worse,” Vin replied.
“Yeah, that’s what you said before.”
With more effort on both their parts, they managed to get Vin into a semi-reclined position on the bed. Chris stood and rubbed his upper arms with his hands.
“Sorry ‘bout that, Chris,” Vin managed, still trying to get his breathing under control. “Didn’t mean to grab ya so hard.”
“Don’t worry about it, Vin,” Chris replied. “Probably won’t even bruise.”
The rabbit stew was, indeed, still good, and each man managed a bowl or two. By the end of the meal, however, Vin was ready for some more whiskey. Chris gave him another two cupfuls and watched as Vin gulped them down almost desperately.
“Maybe I should ride to town come morning, fetch Nate,” Chris commented.
Vin shook his head. “Nah. Nothin’ he can do that you ain’t already doin’,” he said.
“He might have some better medicines,” Chris countered.
“Seen too many men get hooked on morphine and laudanum. Whiskey’s good enough for me.”
Chris nodded his head. He’d seen the effects of those, as well. “Gonna have to go to town to get some more whiskey, then. You’ve drunk just about the whole bottle,” he said, holding up the bottle and giving it a shake. “Don’t like the idea of you being out here on your own, though. No one to watch your back.”
“No pun intended?”
“No pun intended.”
“I’ll be fine, s’long as I got a gun in my hand,” Vin assured him.
“Fine. In the meantime, why don’t you settle down and try to sleep. That’s gotta be the best thing for your back, anyway.”
+ + + + + + +
“Chris,” Vin called.
“Chris!” A little more urgently.
Chris woke up, worried at the tone of Vin’s voice. “Vin? What’s wrong?”
“Hurts! It’s all tightenin’ up again!” he got out.
Chris rushed to his side, finding Vin squirming in the bed, trying to get the painful spasms to stop. Chris gently pushed Vin onto his side, unsuccessfully ignored the near scream Vin let out at the movement, and began kneading the injured muscles of Vin’s lower back.
“Relax, Vin, relax,” he ordered, trying to smooth out the knots of flesh.
“Can’t! Oh, God, Chris! Fuck!” Vin swore.
“You need to calm down, Vin. Relax.”
“This must be what one of those special Hells Josiah’s talked about in some of his sermons feels like,” Vin ground out. “Oh, shit!”
Chris pressed down harder, physically and mentally willing the muscles beneath his fingers to still.
“Easy, now. That’s it,” he whispered a few minutes later as Vin finally began to calm.
Chris continued to massage Vin’s back, relaxing himself, as Vin’s painful moans turned to satisfied sighs. He spread his fingers out, gently pushing, smoothing the skin and muscle away from Vin’s spine, upward toward Vin’s ribs, downward toward his buttocks.
“Damn, Cowboy,” Vin began. “Don’t shoot me for sayin’ this, but you got hands of gold, pard’. You probably drive the women wild with ‘em.”
Chris abruptly stopped his ministrations, his feelings of guilt returning, and said, “Time to start those hot compresses again.”
“More whiskey, too,” Vin added.
Chris nodded and headed for the stove and stoked the fire. As he put the cloths he’d used earlier near the stove to warm, he cursed himself for his carelessness. While he was glad that he’d eased Vin’s pain, he’d gone far beyond what was necessary. His dick had been rock hard until Vin had spoken up. Ain’t the women I wanna drive wild, he thought piteously.
+ + + + + + +
Chris gave the coffee in his mug another swirl as he leaned against the doorframe. He swallowed the last dregs as the sun rose over the horizon. After five days of rain, it was a welcome sight. He stretched his neck from side to side, listened to the popping sounds it made, felt old for a second or two, then sighed as the tension was relieved. If only it was this easy for Vin, he thought.
He tightened his fingers around the still warm mug in his hand and released them, putting the mug down onto the porch’s single chair. As he flexed his fingers again, he almost complained about them cramping up, but then remembered that he had nothing to complain about. Not compared to Vin, anyway.
Chris wondered if some of Nathan’s stronger medicines would be better for Vin, after all. Not that there was a choice in the matter. Despite their earlier conversation, there was no way Chris was going to leave Vin alone to head for town. He couldn’t bear the thought of Vin suffering through another bout of back spasms while he was away.
“Chris?”
“Right here, Vin,” he called back and headed into the cabin.
He walked over to the bed, where Vin was once again lying on his stomach.
“Gotta go?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Vin replied.
The two worked together again and a few minutes later, Vin was settled again.
“You up for some breakfast?” Chris asked, heading for the stove before Vin could even answer.
“If it’s more of that stew, then yeah. You headin’ to town soon?”
“No.”
“No?”
“Don’t wanna leave you here by yourself, Vin,” Chris replied. “One wrong move, hell, one right move, and you’ll be back in that special Hell you said you were in last night.”
Vin nodded his head then closed his eyes as he put his head down onto the bed.
“We’re outta whiskey, though. I don’t know what else I can give you to help with the pain, Vin,” Chris added.
The men were silent for a moment.
“Those golden hands of yours seem to work just fine, Cowboy,” Vin said, his voice a little muffled as he said it into the pillow. He lifted his head and looked at Chris then. “Better’n the whiskey,” he added.
Chris was startled by Vin’s words. He took a step back, unsure of how to reply. Was Vin coming on to him? Or was he just stating fact - that the massage worked to help his back? Vin was still staring at him, as if waiting for a reply. He saw the answer in Vin’s eyes then, and it scared him.
“If you say so,” Chris finally said, then added, “Gotta go feed the horses,” and left the cabin.
Vin stared at the closed door for a second or two, dropped his head back down to the mattress and groaned. “Fuck,” he whispered.
+ + + + + + +
Needing to stay true to his word, Chris did go to the barn to feed the horses. They did, after all, need to be fed. He’d also returned the water trough to its former position, uprighting it and dragging it back across the small yard. He’d fill it later.
After finishing his barn chores, he sat down on the floor and thought about what had happened in the cabin. Had Vin really said what he did? Did he see what he thought he saw in Vin’s eyes? And had he taken the coward’s way out and run? The more he thought about them, the more he had to say yes to all three of those questions.
“I’m a fool,” he whispered, shaking his head. “And I’ve probably hurt Vin even worse, despite what he’s been saying.”
Gathering his wits and determination, Chris stood up and headed back to the cabin. He’d eased Vin’s pain with his hands already. Now it was time to ease his pain with his words.
+ + + + + + +
He found Vin where he’d left him - lying supine on the bed, his face hidden beneath his forearms. Chris approached quietly, almost timidly, bringing a chair over to sit next to the bed. When Vin didn’t look up, Chris called to him.
“Vin? You awake?”
“I’m sorry, Chris,” Vin replied, not looking up.
“You’re sorry?”
“I shouldn’tve said those things,” he continued. “Made ya uncomfortable. I just... I thought...” He sighed in frustration, unable to come up with the words.
“You thought right, Vin,” Chris spoke up, putting his hand on Vin’s forearm. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’tve run out like I did.” Vin finally looked up and met his gaze and Chris added, “I guess I just didn’t expect you to feel the same way. I got spooked.
Vin chuckled at Chris’s choice of words. “You? Spooked? That’s gotta be a first.”
“First time for everything, I guess,” he replied. “Even us.”
“You sure? We’re not gettin’ our meanin’s mixed up?” Vin asked.
Chris took a deep breath and let it out. “I’m talking about me liking the fact that I had my hands all over you for the past day.”
Vin nodded his head and smiled. “Yeah. I’m talking about me liking the fact that you had your hands all over me for the past day. And... And even if my back wasn’t twistin’ in all kinds of knots, I’d still want ‘em on me.”
“Just so we’re clear,” Chris put in.
“We’re clear, Cowboy.”
Both men smiled.
“So how are you feeling? How’s your back now?” Chris asked.
“Not too bad,” Vin replied.
“So I can do this,” Chris said, putting his right hand on Vin’s back. “And this,” he continued, rubbing it slowly down Vin’s spine. “And this,” moving it down even further, lightly squeezing Vin’s buttocks.
“Startin’ to feel better now,” Vin said, hoping to encourage Chris to keep doing what he was doing.
“Maybe this’ll be even better,” Chris suggested, placing gentle kisses along Vin’s spine, now.
“Oh, yeah,” Vin replied arching his back upwards, wanting more. “Oh, shit!” he cried out then, as his muscles protested.
Chris closed his eyes and brought his hands back up to Vin’s back, beginning the familiar process of soothing the tight muscles once again.
“Easy, Vin,” he whispered. “Guess we gotta take this slow. Won’t hurt to wait.”
“Can’t hurt me no worse.”
End