WARNING: Graphic description of male-male sex.
…The six peacekeepers were up before sunrise and ready to ride as soon as there was enough light for them to see the trails they needed to follow. Buck led the others off to the east to find the men who had nearly killed Vin while Chris and Nathan headed west, hoping to find Vin himself.
The trail the two men followed, which grew even easier to see once the tracker's feet had begun to bleed, allowed them to cover the dry desert ground at a fast lope. And, as they followed the bloody path back toward Four Corners, Chris cursed himself again and again for not going out to look for the tracker sooner. If Vin died it would be his fault, as surely as if he'd put a gun to the man's head and pulled the trigger himself.
But what haunted him the most was why he hadn't gone looking for the tracker sooner. Pride. Simple, arrogant pride. He'd been angry that Vin had cast aside their friendship so easily. And for what? A married woman?
No, he corrected himself, knowing better. For love. And love was never easy. It was complicated and dear, something he knew better than many men.
And there, he knew, was the real root of the problem. Almost losing Vin to Charlotte – the first woman he'd ever seen Tanner show the slightest interest in – had forced him to look far too closely at his own feelings for the tracker. And what he'd found had both frightened and excited him in ways he'd hadn't felt since Sarah was alive.
Pulling himself away from the increasingly intimate thoughts, Chris knew they should soon be seeing the small community of Four Corners appear on the horizon. How in Heaven's name did Vin manage to get this far?
"Man's got more grit 'n ten others put t'gether," Nathan said softly, and Chris realized with a start that he must have asked the question out loud. "Bone, muscle an' grit," the healer continued, "held t'gether by pure mule-headed stubbornness."
Chris allowed himself a small smile over the description. It was true, too true, sometimes. He just hoped this turned out to be one of them. What he'd seen at the camp where Vin had been held still haunted him, especially the empty grave. How in the world had Tanner clawed his way out of that grave? How had he found the strength to stand, let alone to start walking back to town? Maybe Nathan was right, maybe it was just grit and stubbornness.
Then, in front of them, a small rise appeared and they continued to follow the blood trail to the top, where it suddenly vanished. Both men scanned the bottom of the elevation with concerned gazes.
"There!" Nathan cried, urging his gelding down the slope to the wash below. Vin lay sprawled on the ground, unmoving.
Chris tried to start his gelding forward, but found he was unable to urge the horse into motion. He stared at the naked, still body lying below, and the sight of it both terrifying Larabee and sending a spark of pure lust shooting into his groin. But that unholy passion immediately disappeared under the weight of what he was seeing. The tracker's skin was sunburned where it wasn't covered with bruises, dirt, blood, or all three. He knew then that Vin had given his all to get back home; to get back to him. And the truth of that realization shook Larabee to his core.
Vin loved him, of that he was absolutely sure. But did Tanner feel the same things Chris was feeling now?
He watched Nathan jump down from his horse and scrambled over to the sprawled tracker. With a trembling hand, the healer reached out and felt along Vin's neck, searching for a heartbeat.
"I don't know how, but he's alive!" Jackson called up to Larabee, his voice breaking on the last word.
Alive. The word lanced through Chris like a knife, cutting the invisible bonds that had held him motionless. Alive. He gigged the gelding's flanks, the black hurrying to the bottom of the rise. Larabee was off his horse before the gelding stopped moving.
"I don't know how, but he's alive," Nathan repeated, shaking his head, his hands gently touching the tracker's back, arm, shoulder and head as if he were unsure where to begin his examination.
Larabee reached out, lightly touching the tracker's shoulder as well. "Damn!" he hissed, jerking his hand away from the unnatural sensation that greeted his fingertips. "His skin feels like hot ice!"
"It was a cool night," Nathan agreed, nodding. "Got t' get him warmed up. Start me a fire, and get both our bedrolls. Do it quick."
Chris nodded and hurried to carry out the healer's instructions, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. He couldn't lose Vin now. Not now. Not before he had a chance to talk to him, to tell him he was sorry for leaving him out here so long. Not before he knew how Vin felt about him.
While Larabee worked, Nathan examined Vin, trying to determine the extent of the tracker's many injuries. "Feels like he's got a couple 'a busted ribs," the healer muttered out loud. "Bruises all over… some burns, too… He took a helluva beatin'… and a good hit to the head, too… Some of these cuts are infected pretty bad…"
"Bedrolls are ready," Chris interrupted the stomach-churning litany.
"Come help me lift him and turn him over, but go easy. He wakes up and starts t' fight us, them busted ribs might stab his lung."
Chris nodded, his hands starting to shake before he even reached for the injured man. God, Vin, what happened to you? Just don't die on me, pard. Please, don't die on me. Not yet. Not ever.
Together they carefully lifted Tanner, turned him over, and laid him on the stacked bedrolls. Chris shivered when there was no reaction at all from the tracker. "Nathan?" he asked hoarsely, his fear making his heart pound so hard he wasn't sure he would be able to hear the healer's answer.
"I'll do all I can," Jackson promised him, checking the injuries on the tracker's chest.
Larabee took a deep breath and went back to work, building up the small fire he'd already started earlier. Nathan moved down to look at the tracker's feet.
"Damn it," Jackson hissed.
Larabee looked over at the man sharply. "What?" he demanded as a surge of panic making his guts roil.
"His feet are a real mess," the healer said, shaking his head. "Got a helluva sunburn, too… his wrists and ankles are all torn up…"
"What next?" Chris asked him, the small fire burning well and the list of injuries too much to endure.
Nathan looked up at the gunslinger and, seeing the fear in the man's eyes, knew he had to give Larabee something to do. "Set two of the canteens close to the fire to warm some water. I want t' get him cleaned up so I can see these wounds better. Some are gonna need t' be cleaned out and stitched 'fore the infection gets any worse."
Larabee nodded and went back to work, setting the canteen close to the flames, then gathering up more fuel for the fire from the stunted brush and trees scattered along the edge of the crooked wash.
Nathan hurried to his horse and untied his saddlebags, carrying them over to Vin. He sat down on the ground next to the injured man, digging into the pouches to remove bandages, ointment, powders and other items he knew he'd need.
Once the water warmed, Chris and Nathan gently and thoroughly washed the dirt, blood, and sweat from Vin's skin, which they found was covered by more welts, bruises, and cuts than they had first suspected, along with several small burn marks. Nathan treated the worst of the cuts and burns, bandaging a few of the deeper ones. Next, he bound the man's ribs, saving his feet for last.
After carefully cleaning the tracker's soles, the debridement came next. And when that was done, Nathan treated them with carbolic and wrapped them in bandages. As the healer worked, Vin moaned softly, trying weakly to fight him, but his struggles stopped as soon as Chris began talking to the unconscious man, his hand resting gently on Vin's shoulder as he spoke.
"Can we get him into town?" Larabee asked the healer when Nathan finished and sat back on his heels.
"Not 'til he warms up and gets some color back."
Larabee glanced up at the sky. They had found Vin an hour or so after noon, but that had been several hours ago and it was already getting close to dark. And, with the darkness, he knew, the temperatures would surely fall again.
As if reading the gunslinger's thoughts, Nathan said, "I know it ain't the best, but it's better 'n him turnin' cold and dyin' on us during the ride back. I'll build up a couple mo' small fires 'round him so we can keep him warm though the night. I'm hopin' he'll wake up some and take water and medicine once he's warmed – he needs both as soon as we can get them into him."
Chris nodded, staring out at the distant outline of Four Corners – so close, and yet so impossibly far away. Then, glancing back at the healer, he swallowed hard and asked, "Tell me the truth, Nathan. Will he live?"
"Don't know, Chris," Nathan answered softly, unable to meet the blond's desperate green eyes. "He took a helluva beating–"
"This was more than just a beating," Chris interrupted, his voice cold with fury.
Nathan nodded. "Yeah… yeah, it was… and he's been out in the sun an' the cold fo' a few days; probably ain't had much to eat or drink durin' that time either… I'd be lyin' if I didn't tell ya he's in a bad way – I can't say no different – but he ain't got a bad fever yet, and his lungs still sound clear; that's in his favor. If he wakes up and takes some water an' herbs, that'll help, too. We got to get some water into 'im quick. Longer he goes without it, the worse the odds are he'll pull through."
Chris nodded, willing to grasp whatever thread of hope the healer could give him.
"I'll tell y' this, too," Nathan added. "We're gonna have t' build us a travois – rig it up so we can carry it b'tween the horses – t' keep 'im from gettin' knocked along the ground."
"He can ride with me," Chris offered, wanting more than anything to hold the man tight in his arms and force him to live.
"Thought 'bout that, and it might come t' it, but it'll be best if we can keep him lyin' down flat. It'll keep the blood from poolin' in his feet and hurtin' him like hellfire the way they's all torn up."
"We'll build the litter then," Larabee stated determinedly, willing to do whatever he could to make sure Vin survived. Vin had to survive, he couldn't loose him. He wouldn't lose him. Not yet. "What do you want me to do now?"
"Ain't nothing to do now 'cept wait. I'm gonna mix up some herbs, then we'll see if we can't get him to drink some down."
Larabee found as comfortable a position as he could next to the injured man and began his vigil. You have to live, he silently told the tracker. I want the chance to set things right between us, Vin. You die on me now– Just don't do it, Vin. Please. You're stronger than any man I've met, you can beat this. You have to. I need you. I haven't said that in a long time, but it's true.
He reached out and brushed his knuckles over the tracker's stubble-covered cheek. The skin below his touch was still oddly hot and cold at the same time, but the cold wasn't as icy as it had been earlier, and there was a slight flush of color on the man's cheeks now that wasn't due to fever or sunburn.
"You just rest," Chris told the tracker softly. "We'll get you home. I promise you that. You hear me? We're taking you home."
Tanner stirred restlessly under the blankets, but he didn't open his eyes.
"Let's see if he'll take a little water from ya," Nathan said, handing Chris a cup. "Even a few sips will help 'im."
Larabee set the cup down, then cradled the back of Vin's head and gently lifted him up. With Nathan's help they positioned Vin so the tracker was leaning back against Chris's chest. Then Larabee reached for the cup and pressed it to the man's lips, saying, "Come on, Vin, take a little water. You can do it."
The tracker jerked slightly and moaned, trying to turn his head away.
Chris tipped the cup up, letting a little of the liquid dribble into Vin's mouth. Most of it ran right back over his lips, but he swallowed some of it as well and that small amount of water seemed to bring the tracker around a little and, while he didn't open his eyes, he moaned softly, greedily sucking the drops off the lip of the tin cup.
Chris kept tilting tiny amounts of water into the injured man's mouth until, finally, Vin had finished the entire cup of water, then, with Nathan's help, he lowered the tracker back down again and tucked blankets up around his shoulders.
Taking up his vigil again, Chris bowed his head and silently prayed for the first time in almost three years.
Middle of the night
Vin moaned softly as he lay, shivering weakly under the blankets from both Chris's and Nathan's bedrolls. The healer had built up the fires as much as he dared, and still the tracker trembled, his teeth sometimes chattering in the quiet stillness of predawn. The scattered fires were more than enough to keep Nathan and Chris warm, but they hadn't seemed to help Vin much.
Desperate to warm the tracker so his already abused muscles would stop seizing up with the chills, Chris stretched out alongside Vin and carefully inched closer and closer to him, offering him the only help he could in the form of his own body heat. He was too afraid to actually reach out and pull the tracker against him, sure that any pressure on the dark, purpling bruises would only be additional agony for the injured man. He spoke softly, muttering encouragement without really realizing what, exactly, he was saying.
"Easy, Vin, just take it easy… Hang on, pard, please… You can do this, Vin, I know you can… just keep fighting… fight; you've been doing it all your life, so I know you know how. You just keep fighting and we'll do the rest. I promise."
A few moments later, Vin shifted closer to the proffered warmth on his own, nestling into it with a soft sigh and Chris allowed himself a small, grateful smile. That's it, he silently told the tracker, I'm not going to hurt you, Vin. Not any more than I already have. Those bastards, when Buck and the others bring 'em back, I swear they'll pay for this. He sighed softly, wondering what he himself should have to pay for his part in Tanner's suffering. I should've gone looking for you the day before those drovers rode in…. Christ, Vin, I'm sorry, not that it makes a damned bit of difference now, but I am sorry.
Reaching up, Chris lightly ran his hand over Vin's hair. Several long minutes later, the tracker finally began to relax and, slowly, the chills subsided and his half-grunted pants faded at last into the long, deep breaths of slumber.
"I think he's just sleepin' now," Nathan said softly from where he sat close by, keeping the fires burning strong.
Larabee started to pull away from the tracker, but the healer's hand on his shoulder stopped him.
"No, Chris, you stay right there. I want him to stay calm and sleep. Want him to stay warm, too. This seems to be workin' just fine for all them things."
Chris nodded, strangely content to remain right where he was. Why it should feel so natural to hold the man in his arms he wasn't sure, and he didn't spend time thinking about it, too grateful that Tanner seemed to be resting more easily to bother.
The gunslinger closed his eyes, listening to the soft sound of the tracker's breath, letting it slowly lull him into sleep as well.
Live, he thought as he started to drift off. You have to live, Vin. Just keep fighting for a little while longer.* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Chris woke with the dawn, immediately aware of two things, his need to relieve himself and the utter stillness of the man lying next to him. The first was completely forgotten as the implications of the second asserted themselves in his sleep-fogged mind.
"Nathan!" he cried, jerking up and back so he could look down at Vin.
The quiet desperation in Larabee's voice jolted the healer awake and Jackson quickly scrambled over to the tracker's side, afraid of what he might just find there. Reaching out, he pressed his fingertips to Vin's throat, finding a steady, albeit weaker beat than he would have hoped to find given Larabee's cry. He glanced up, meeting the blond's worried gaze and said, "He's just sleepin', Chris." But Larabee was still gulping in air, staring at Tanner with wide eyes. "Ya hear me?" Jackson pressed. "He's alive. He's just sleepin'."
Larabee dipped his head and scrubbed a hand over his face, willing the tears that stung his eyes to go away. "Damn, Nathan, he's so… still."
Jackson nodded, taking the opportunity to go ahead and check the injured man's wounds. "Man been hurt this bad, sometimes his sleep can be deep, real deep. We'll let him rest a bit longer, then I want ya to try and get some tea into him, all right?"
Chris nodded. "I'll get started on that litter," he said, his voice sounding raw in his ears.
Nathan nodded. "I'll make some coffee. Get yo'self a cup."
Larabee nodded, stumbling off to take care of his own needs, and then to find some wood he could use to rig up the litter. It took him a while, but he finally found what he needed and carried it back to the camp. Sitting down on the ground, he poured himself a cup of the coffee and went to work on the travois. He watched Nathan as he lashed the branches together with strips cut and torn off his spare shirt. The healer was cleaning a few of the infected wounds again, then checked Tanner's feet again and frowned.
"What is it?" Chris asked him, trying not to sound as frightened as he felt.
"Infection. It's gettin' worse, and his fever's building. I ain't got enough supplies here fo' him."
Chris sighed softly. "Buck and the others will probably catch up to us this afternoon if they caught up to those two…"
Nathan nodded. "Hope so," was all he said, and the tone sent a chill snaking down Larabee's back. He looked away from Vin, determined to get the travois finished as quickly as he could and cursing himself the entire time. He'd been such a fool, a damned fool.
That afternoon
Vin's fever climbed slowly over the course of the day. Nathan built a small lean-to and draped his saddle blanket over it in order to protect the tracker from the worst of the sun. He and Larabee had also dressed Tanner in the rest of spare clothes from their bedrolls – Chris's pants, Nathan's shirt – which also helped protect him from the sun, but the healer glanced out at Four Corners and said, "We've waited long enough, Chris. We got to head fo' town now. I don't think he'll make it through another night like the last one."
Larabee nodded, then stood and began breaking their camp. When he was almost done, he walked over to get the horses ready. Once their gear was loaded and the litter was rigged up between the two geldings – neither of which were happy about the situation – he walked back to where Nathan was wiping Vin's face with a damp cloth.
"Damn near out of water, too," the healer said with a tired sigh.
"The horses are ready."
Nathan nodded and stood. Together they lifted Vin and carried him to the travois, settling him on it gently. Chris waited, keeping the horses calm while the healer went back for a blanket, covering the injured man with it and then tying him down on the litter with leather straps he carried in his saddlebags.
"You mount first," Chris instructed, waiting for Nathan before gathering his own reins and swinging into his black's saddle.
They headed for home, keeping the horses to a walk. Between them the travois jerked a little as the geldings picked their way across the desert. Vin moaned from time to time in response, but he never really woke.
"He goin' to be able to take this?" Chris called out.
Nathan looked back over his shoulder, studying the injured man for a moment. "Ain't sure. If it gets too bad, I'll dose him with laudanum and let him ride with one of us, but I'd rather not do it if I don't have to."
"Just say the word," Chris replied, wishing the others had gotten back before they'd had to leave. Buck's big gray could easily carry two people the rest of the way home.* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Chris's gun was in his hand before he realized who had ridden up on them.
"Whoa, easy there, pard," Buck said, flashing the gunslinger a grin, but it faded the moment he saw Vin. "How's he doin'?"
"Not good," Larabee replied, his gaze locked on the two strangers, their hands lashed to their saddlehorns, their horses being led by Josiah and JD. "These the bastards who did this to Vin?"
Buck nodded.
Larabee aimed at the younger of the two prisoners. The man flinched and turned his head away, mumbling pleas to spare is life.
"Chris, no," Buck said, reining his gray in closer and putting himself between Larabee and the two men, "this ain't the way, at least not here, not now. Let's get Vin home, then we'll worry 'bout what ta do with these two."
Chris fought the strong desire to just shoot the two men and be done with it, but reason finally won out. He slammed his Colt back into his holster and looked away from the men, snarling, "We stop here. Ezra, you and Buck take Vin next. And make damned sure he doesn't get jerked around too much."
That evening
They reached Four Corners just after dark. Josiah lifted Vin off the travois and carried him, cradled in his arms, up to the clinic, Nathan following behind them, looking worried. Buck and JD took the two prisoners to the jail. And Ezra followed Chris to the saloon where the gunslinger ordered a glass of whiskey, gulped it down, and immediately ordered another.
Inez glanced over Larabee's shoulder to Ezra, who gave her a signal from behind the gunslinger's back. She smiled at Chris, saying, "Go sit down, Señor, I will bring you your drink, and some food."
"Ain't hungry," he said, but then added, "I appreciate the offer, Inez."
She nodded. "Go. Sit. I will bring it."
Chris headed for his usual table in the corner and she turned back, pouring a shot glass half full with whiskey, then added water to fill it the rest of the way. She stirred it and then took it over to him.
"Might as well bring me the bottle," he told her as soon as he tossed the second shot back.
She nodded, saying, "Si, Señor," before she turned and walked back to the bar. She took down a bottle and poured half the contents into an empty one, filling Larabee's the rest of the way with water. She stirred it up and handed it to Ezra when he said, "Allow me to take that to Mr. Larabee, my dear."
"Is Vin all right?" she asked him, glancing at the worn-out looking gunslinger.
"I'm afraid our Mr. Tanner is not well. Mr. Jackson is doing all he can for him, however, and Nathan does seem to be able to perform miracles. I just pray this will be another example of his amazing talents."
Taking the watered-down whiskey, the gambler delivered it to Larabee's table, setting it in front of the man before joining an ongoing poker game, sitting so he could keep an eye on the blond while he played.
Chris nodded his thanks and reached for the bottle, filling his empty glass. He stared into the amber-colored liquid, but all he could see was the tracker's tortured body. He gulped the drink down, trying to chase the image away, but it remained, taunting him accusingly.
It was his fault. If he'd just trusted his gut… If he hadn't been so damned stubborn… If he'd asked the man where he was going, and why… If he'd just been a friend. And, even given how he had treated him, Vin had still tried to get back to town, back to him.
Why?
But Larabee knew the answer and that prompted him to fill his glass again.
He couldn't believe Vin would feel the same things he felt for the tracker. He just couldn't. The feelings were wild and uncontrollable – feral. They crept up on him and attacked in his dreams, a tumult of images, lust and love and two bodies, joining together in ways wholly unnatural. And then he would wake, shaking, spilling his seed, desires more savage than any he'd ever felt for Sarah coursing through his blood.
Vin could never feel like that. Could he?
He knew now that was one reason he had let his anger win out over his good sense. And that damnable victory might just cost him the man he loved, the man he wanted in his life, and in his bed.* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
In the clinic, Nathan and Josiah laid Vin on the narrow bed and carefully undressed him so the healer could check his healing wounds, making sure they hadn't suffered on the trip. He cleaned some, added salves and powders to others. And, while not truly awake, the tracker still tried to fight the treatment.
Josiah captured the younger man's hands in his own, holding them and praying softly when he felt the tracker's fever burning through his battered skin.
Almost an hour later, Vin still lay naked on the narrow bed, weakly tossing as that same fever continued to savage his already brutalized body. Josiah continued to speak softly to the injured man while he bathed his chest, neck and face with a damp cloth, trying to keep him cool. More damp cloths covered Tanner's hips and legs.
"Wish Chris was here," Nathan said softly as he cleaned Tanner's feet again, trying to get the upper hand on the infection. "He quieted right down when Chris was with 'im out there in the desert."
"I have a hunch brother Larabee's fighting his own demons right about now," Josiah replied, taking in the extent of the younger man's injuries yet again and wishing that they'd just killed the two men responsible when they'd found them.
The door to the clinic opened and Buck entered, walking over to the bedside. He looked down at Vin, paled, and glanced quickly away. "Good Lord, but he's catawamptiously chawed up," he said thickly, his face turning greenish-gray.
Nathan stood and sighed heavily, shaking his head. "It just ain't lookin' good for 'im," he said softly. "Infection's still hangin' on and his fever's climbin'… He ain't really woken up since we found him. I can't get enough water or medicine into him like this."
"You send Chris out?" Buck asked, frowning as he glanced around the clinic.
Nathan shook his head, saying, "Figured he was helpin' you and JD with the two who done this."
"Damn," the ladies' man sighed, jaw muscle popping. "I'll send him over in a little while… might have ta sober him up some first," he said, then turned and stalked out.* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Buck found Chris right where he expected to – in the saloon. Seated at his corner table, Larabee was just tipping out the last shot from a bottle of whiskey.
Buck glowered at the blond and started over to him only to be intercepted by Ezra, who steered the ladies' man toward the bar with a loud, "Ah, Mr. Wilmington, I see you've taken care of those two miscreants…" When they reached the bar he added in a much quieter tone, "I had Inez water down the bottle, but Mr. Larabee has still made amazing progress in the short time since we returned."
Buck glanced over at Chris, who was staring off into the shadows, lost in his own recriminations. The ladies' man was familiar with the expression and it sent a chill snaking down his back to curl up heavily in his guts. He knew with certainty that if they lost Vin, they would lose Chris as well.
"I'll take care of it," he said softly.
"If you require any assistance, you need only ask, my friend."
Buck looked back at the gambler, a little surprised by the offer, and grinned. "Thanks, Ez, but I'm hoping he'll listen t' reason."
"Well, they say there's a first time for everything," Ezra muttered under his breath as Wilmington started over to Chris's table.* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Vin lay, tossing weakly on the bed. He cried out in what Josiah thought must be Kiowa or Comanche, or some other Indian dialect. It sounded like he was talking to someone, and whatever they were arguing about, Vin seemed to be on the losing side of the conversation.
He wrung out another cloth and laid it over the tracker's chest, Nathan doing the same with others across Tanner's legs.
"Easy, son, easy," Josiah said softly, reaching up to push the tangled, sweat-sodden hair off the tracker's forehead and face. "Fever feels like it's come down some," he commented to Nathan.
The healer nodded. "Wounds are drainin' a little less last time I checked, too. Nothing more we can do fo' him now, 'cept wait and keep him cool."
"Then that's what we'll do, brother."
"Wish there was more. Maybe when Chris gets here…"
Josiah nodded. "I can see if he'll take some more water."
Nathan shook his head. "Spilled more 'n he drank last time. Don't want t' waste the medicine. I'll get Chris to try when he gets here."
"You're assuming he'll come."
Nathan paused, his hands in the basin of water. "You don't think he will? With Vin lookin' like that?"
Josiah thought a moment and then said, "Oh, he'll come. I'm just not sure how much help he's going to be when he gets here."
Nathan nodded his understanding. He had seen the guilt in the man's eyes when they had found Vin, and it hadn't gotten any better since then.* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Vin felt like he was running through an endless, blistering night, unable to stop and unsure where he was, or where he was supposed to be going. Pain was his constant companion, dogging his heels every step of the way, clawing through his body with red-hot talons that shredded his body and his soul.
In the far distance he could hear voices, sometimes one, sometimes more than one, but he couldn't make out who was speaking, or what was being said. The voices were oddly comforting, though, and they gave him hope, even if something felt missing.
He continued on through the darkness, fighting the agony that gripped him, struggling to reach the voices, but never seeming to get any closer.
Damn it!
He stumbled to a stop, his hands braced just above his knees as he bent over, gasping for breath. Sweat rolled off his naked body like rainwater.
Where the hell was he?
He looked around again, squinting, trying to find some feature in the black landscape that he could identify, but there was nothing, absolutely nothing.
How had he gotten here? Wherever the hell "here" was.
He couldn't remember.
He forced himself on, trying to outrun the agony that threatened to overwhelm him. The voices called to him, a beacon in the darkness. But now a new voice joined them, one that seemed familiar somehow, and he felt like he should know who it was. That voice touched something deep inside him. He slowed, trying to listen to it, but the agony flared again and he picked up his pace, pushing on doggedly.
He had to reach that voice. It sounded so familiar… like the promise of relief, of hope, if he could only reach it… but it was so far away… impossibly far away.
From time to time, the ghost of his Kiowa sister appeared next to him, reaching out, trying to help him when he stumbled, but he had steadfastly refused her help. He had to keep running. He had to escape from this place. There was something he was supposed to do and if he reached for her he knew he'd die before it was done.
He couldn't die. Not yet. Not until he'd finished whatever it was he had to do… whenever he got out of this place… wherever this was… God, he was tired, and he hurt so bad. He wanted to stop. He wanted to take her hand and be done with it, but he couldn't. He just couldn't.
It was the voice, the familiar voice. He had to reach it.
And then he remembered why: Larabee.
He had to get back to Four Corners. He had to get back to Chris and the others.
But where was the town?
Where was he?
Had it gotten dark again? Was he still walking across the desert?
He glanced around, but he still couldn't make out any shapes in the landscape, and there were no stars in the endless sky above him to guide him.
He stumbled to a halt. Where the hell was he?
The voice sounded louder now, and it was calling to him.
Chris?
He turned, trying to decide which direction Larabee's voice was coming from, but he couldn't tell. Still, it was getting louder.
Chris?
He concentrated on his friend's voice and started running again, running toward the voice. Keep, talkin', Chris. I'll find ya. I swear I will. I won't let y' down again. I give y' m' word, Cowboy. Just keep talkin'…* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Stalking over to Larabee's table, Buck stood, his hands on his hips. "What the hell do ya think you're doing, stud?"
Chris looked up at the ladies' man, his eyes full of pain and remorse. "He's dyin', Buck," he choked.
"Last I saw, he was still fightin'… He was still tryin' to live… Can you say the same?"
That got the blond's attention and Larabee looked up at the ladies' man, green eyes narrowing.
"No. Don't tell me. Let me tell you," Buck continued, heedless of the danger flashing in those stormy green eyes. "Chris-Almighty-Larabee isn't fightin'. Hell no! Chris-Almighty-Larabee is sittin' in the saloon, drinkin' himself blind while his best friend's over in the clinic, fightin' for his life! Alone!"
"That's enough, Buck," Larabee hissed, his shoulders drawing up as he cast a furtive glance around the room at the patrons who were watching them now.
"No, I don't think it is enough, Chris," Wilmington said, pulling out a chair and sitting down across the table from his long-time friend. Blue eyes locked on green, neither man willing to look away first, which suited Buck just fine. He wanted Larabee's complete attention for what he had to say next. "You listen to me, Chris, and you listen good. I watched you damn near kill yourself after Sarah and Adam died, and I'm not going to sit here and watch it happen all over again. And I sure as hell am not going to let you do it while Vin's still alive. What the hell're you doin'? You should be over at the clinic, talkin' to him, keepin' him fightin' when he's too damned tired to fight any more. You should be there, damn you, helping Nathan and Josiah take care of that boy. But here you are, drinkin' your misery from a glass when your soul's already so drunk with it it can't feel anything more. It ain't right, Chris, and by God you know it ain't right."
Larabee opened his mouth to speak, but Buck cut him off, adding, "What Vin did out there on that wagon train, it was wrong. You know it and I know it, but we've all made our mistakes. You made one when you didn't go lookin' for him when you should've. But he was tryin' to make up for his. You know he was. He was tryin' to get back to town, to you, so you'd know–" His voice caught and he stopped, tears stinging his eyes, jaw muscles twitching.
"Ain't your funeral, Buck," the gunman slurred. "Leave off."
"Like hell I will," the ladies' man managed, his voice breaking. "He deserves better from you, Chris, and by God you're goin' to that clinic if I have to beat you senseless and carry you there myself."
"You can try," the blond hissed, his eyes narrowing dangerously.
"What're ya goin' ta do? Shoot me?"
"Might."
"Go ahead then," Buck snapped, standing, the force turning his chair over behind him. He stepped around the table, reaching out and grabbing Larabee's arms, jerking the gunslinger to his feet.
Chris's gun was pressed hard against his ribs. "Get your hands off me," he growled lowly.
"Just because you were too damned stubborn to go lookin' for Vin while he still had a chance don't mean he ought to die alone, ya bastard. Why do ya think he was coming back here?" Buck demanded in a low hiss, knowing he was pushing Chris as hard as he'd ever dared. But he had to do it; he wasn't going to lose two friends tonight. "It was for you, ya sonuvabitch," he said, just loud enough for Larabee to hear him. "He killed himself tryin' to get back so you wouldn't think he'd run out on ya again. Least ya can do is tell him you know that before he's gone, damn it. He deserves that much from the man he loves, the one who once called him his friend."
Chris went pale and staggered back like he'd been slapped. His eyes rounded with terror. "He's dying," he gulped, the truth of it stealing his breath and his strength away in an instant.
"He's bad off, Chris, real bad." Buck took a step closer to Larabee. "Nate ain't sure he's goin' to pull through this one."
"Oh fuck," Chris gasped, lurching for the batwing doors and roughly shoving aside a patron who was just coming in to the saloon. Buck followed closely on Larabee's heels, muttering a brief apology to the cowboy as he passed.
Ezra ordered a round for the man, on the house, and hurried to the doors, watching his friends out on the boardwalk.
Chris grabbed one of the four-by-fours that held up the overhang, his stomach turning over violently. He had killed his friend. He had killed Vin. He'd never hold him, never tell him how he felt, never make love to him the way he had with Sarah – the way he had in his dreams. He retched into the street, again and again, until his stomach was empty and it was just dry heaves assaulting him.
Ezra stepped out onto the boardwalk, but Buck shook his head and gestured back at the saloon.
The gambler nodded his understanding. He would see to it they were given their privacy, or at least as much as he could manage.
Buck turned back to his friend, waiting until Chris was through, then he took the blond by the arm and led him slowly down to the clinic. They stopped in the livery, Buck giving Chris some water to wash his face and rinse out his mouth with. With that done, he guided the blond up the stairs to the door.
"I'll do it with you," Buck said softly, his hand on Larabee's shoulder.
Chris glanced at his long-time friend and offered Wilmington a small, sad smile as he shook his head. "In case I haven't said it, you're a damned fine friend."
Buck blushed and dipped his head. "Come on," he said softly, "let's get this over with before we're both bawlin' like a couple 'a old widows." Gonna be doin' that soon enough anyway, he thought, remembering the look in the healer's eyes.* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Nathan looked up from the cup of hot water he was stirring herbs into, his brow furrowing with worry. "Chris?" But the blond didn't hear him. Larabee was staring across the room at the towel-draped tracker. The healer looked to Buck, asking, "What happened to him?"
"Met up with a bottle… and a bad case of the truth," the ladies' man replied sadly.
Larabee stepped away from Buck's grasp and shuffled to the bed, dropping bonelessly into the empty chair he found there. He looked across at Josiah, who was praying softly as he bathed Vin's face with a damp cloth. "What can I do?" he rasped.
Josiah stopped praying and looked up, meeting Larabee's eyes and smiling tiredly. "We're still trying to keep his fever down. Why don't you change those towels on his chest."
Chris nodded, his trembling hands making the work hard, but not impossible.
Buck stepped up to next to Nathan, asking softly, "He doin' any better?"
The healer sighed heavily, telling him, "Fever's down some, infection's doin' some better, too, but if he don't wake up soon, don't think he'll be wakin' up at all."
"He'll wake up," Chris snapped, looking down at the swollen, discolored flesh on the tracker's face. "You hear me, Tanner? You're goin' to wake up, damn you. You aren't goin' to die on me. I'm not going to let you… I don't need that damned five hundred dollar bounty yet, so fight, you goddamn, stubborn bastard, fight, damn you."
Late that night/the following morning
The six regulators worked throughout the night, JD and Ezra joining the others a few minutes after Buck and Chris got there. They kept the tracker as cool as they could while his fever raged. They held him up, dribbling small amounts of water into his mouth in the hopes that he might actually swallow some of it. They cleaned his draining wounds and redressed them, and took care of his needs. And they talked to him.
By late morning, against all expectations, Vin's fever finally broke and Nathan sent the rest of them off to get some much-needed rest. Larabee, however, refused to be budged from the tracker's bedside.
"Fine," the healer sighed, "you stay with 'im then. I'm goin' t' get me somethin' t' eat, then sleep fo' a couple hours. You come fo' me if he needs me, y'hear?"
Chris nodded.
Nathan rested his hand on the gunslinger's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "He's doing better, Chris. He's got a chance now."
Larabee nodded, knowing it wasn't much of a chance if Vin didn't wake up, and soon. When Nathan was gone, he pulled his chair closer to the bed and reached out, taking the tracker's hand in his own and saying, "Vin, I'm hoping you can hear me… there's something that needs sayin'…" He paused, running a hand over his hair and taking a deep breath, unsure if he could say the words he wanted to say. But he had to, just in case. "Hell, Tanner, you know I'm not good at this kind of thing, but I want you to know… I want you to know I know you didn't run out on us… you were here, before those damned drovers rode in; I'm sure of it… and as for what happened on that damned wagon train… Well, a man'll act like a fool when he's in love, and I guess you loved her. I'm still not sayin' it was right, but I understand love, and what it can lead a man to do… to want – right or wrong." He reached out and pressed his palm to Vin's stubble-covered cheek, finding it cool at last. "Come on, Vin. You have to wake up and take some broth and medicine so you can fight this. You can't let those bastards beat you… I– I can't– Ah, hell, Vin, I can't lose you, too," he said softly, his voice catching, choking him. "I just can't do it, pard, not like this… please…"* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Vin continued running though the darkness, but he was rapidly reaching the end of his endurance. The voice grew steadily louder and louder, but he still couldn't make out what Larabee was saying to him, but he was certain it was Chris who was calling him home. If he could just find the man before his strength was finally gone.
Catching sight of Little Deer, he glanced over at her, saying in Comanche, "I have t' go back, Sister. I have t' set things right with Chris 'n' the others. They're m' family, 'n' I let 'em down. I have t' make that right. But t' do it, I got t' leave y', but you'll live in m' heart ferever. I swear it, Sister. Help me, please. Help me find m' way home. I love 'im. I love him like y' loved me. Help me, Sister."
She gazed at him for a long moment, then smiled and nodded, her love for him clear in her eyes. And, with a graceful wave of her hand, she showed him a shining silver path through the darkness.
He gave her one last smile and forced himself to press on, just a little farther, praying for the strength to make it.
And then he heard Chris's voice.
You have to wake up and take some broth and medicine so you can fight this. You can't let those bastards beat you…
"'M tryin', Cowboy." And, in the distance he saw the first glow of some kind of light penetrating the darkness that had held him prisoner.
I– I can't– Ah, hell, Vin, I can't lose you, too. I just can't do it, pard, not like this… please…
The man's voice was close, so close. Vin stopped, trying to figure out how to reach it, how to reach Chris. He had to reach Chris. He would not disappoint the man again, never again. He would spend the rest of his days at the man's side, if Chris would have him.
And then, suddenly, it felt like he was floating in a huge tub of cool water, or rising up from the bottom of some black lake. He flailed, trying to find the surface, afraid he might drown. Chris! he cried.
Come on Vin, I need you… I need you standing beside me, keeping the shadows at bay…
Vin surrendered to the voice calling him home, trusting it to guide him the rest of the way. And, as he rose, the light grew brighter and brighter until he broke through the surface of consciousness and felt the first powerful wave of pain crash over him, stripping his breath away and leaving him caught in a storm of sensations that all seemed determined to kill him on the spot. But, as he adjusted slowly to the aches and pains that assailed him, he heard Chris begin to speak again.
He rolled his head to the side and commanded his heavy eyelids to open. They obeyed, albeit slowly.
"I don't know if you can ever forgive me for leavin' you out there like that, but I swear to you, Vin, I–"
"C'ris…" he breathed airily, the bowed head of the gunslinger swimming into view as his eyes opened wider.
Larabee's head jerked up and he stared into the half-opened blue eyes of the tracker. "Vin? You awake?"
"I know…" he breathed, his voice so weak he was surprised when Larabee heard him.
"Know? Know what?" the man asked, leaning closer, worry and happiness mixing on his face.
"I know… why I… done it."
"Don't try to talk," Chris said, unsure if he'd even heard the man's words right. Knew why he'd done what? He reached over for the tin cup filled with water and medicinal powder he was supposed to get into the injured man as soon as Tanner woke. "Here, can you drink some of this?"
"C'ris…"
"Not now, damn it," Larabee snapped, fear making his heart beat so fast it left him lightheaded. He reached under Vin's head and lifted it, pressing the cup to the man's lips.
After the first taste of the concoction Vin rolled his head away. "Tastes like… horse piss," he grimaced, coughing softly.
"I don't care if it is horse piss, you're gonna drink this – every damned drop."
Vin looked back at the gunslinger, the fear in Larabee's voice and eyes clear enough to tell the tracker that he was hurt badly. He sighed and let the blond guide the cup to his lips again, and this time he drank all of the foul-tasting medicine without complaint. Anything to erase the pain and fear he saw in the man's green eyes.
Chris settled him back against his pillow and asked, "Think you can eat some broth?"
"Give me… l'tl bit… don't feel right… in m' belly," Vin said, his eyes already closing despite his best efforts.
"Rest for a while, then. I'll keep it warm for you," Larabee promised him.
"Mmm," Vin replied, slipping into the welcome arms of sleep.
Chris reached out, lightly pressing his hand to the tracker's chest, taking comfort in the slow rise and fall, taking strength in the steady beat of the man's heart beneath his palm. His eyes closed. "Lord, thank you," he whispered thickly. "For what it's worth, I truly do thank you."
He forced his eyes open again, but the tracker looked blurry through the tears standing in his eyes. He blinked and they rolled down his cheeks. His heart pounding wildly in his chest, he wanted to reach out and scoop the man into his arms and hold him tight. He wanted to kiss those lips and tell him how much he wanted him, but he knew he couldn't – not now, not ever.
He shook his head, chasing the desire away. Vin needed to rest. The anything else could wait.
An hour later
"C'ris…"
Larabee woke with a start and, for a terrifyingly long moment, he wasn't sure where he was, or why his back felt like it was on fire. But, as he sat up in the chair he'd fallen asleep in earlier, he remembered.
"Vin?" he asked, concerned. The tracker's blue eyes were open again.
"Wa..er?" Tanner rasped thickly, trying to swallow.
Chris stood and quickly fetched a full cup, helping Vin to drink it. Then the gunslinger went for the still-warm broth, bringing a bowl back to the bed. And, after helping Vin sit up a little, he ladled spoonfuls into the man's mouth, ignoring the annoyed glower prompted by the action.
"I c'n do it," Vin grumbled, trying to push himself up a little more, but his muscles immediately seized and he was forced to stop. Groaning, he sagged back against the pillows, his battered body telling him that he wasn't going anywhere, anytime soon.
"Sure you can do it, but why don't you humor me and let me help?" Chris asked, adding under his breath, "Damned mule-headed Texan."
Vin sighed, but nodded. Then, after several more spoonfuls, he asked, "Y' find 'em?"
"The men who did this to you?" Larabee guessed.
Vin nodded as he swallowed again. The broth tasted good and he was so hungry.
Chris nodded, his expression turning stony.
"They dead?" Vin asked, his voice just above a whisper, too afraid to hope.
"Will be soon enough," Chris promised, feeding the man another spoonful.
Vin swallowed it, his eyes rounding.
"Have 'em over at the jail. Wired the Judge, he'll be here for a trial in a week or so."
Vin's eyes closed and he slumped bonelessly against pillows and mattress. His chest jerked, although from a sob or laughter, Chris wasn't sure. "What?" he asked gently, reaching out to rest his hand on the top of the tracker's head. "Vin, what's wrong? Should I get Nathan? Vin?" He set the bowl on the bedside table and started to stand.
"No," Tanner said, stopping Larabee before he reached his feet. "Don't need Nathan." He lay for a moment, catching his breath, then said, "Those men… they c'n… clear m' name… they's with… Eli Joe… when he killed… that farmer… Jess Kincaid."
Chris's eyes went wide. "They tell you that?"
Vin nodded. "They's kin… 'a Eli Joe's… cousins… they's ridin' with 'im… when Eli framed me."
Larabee's eyes narrowed and the smile that turned the corners of his mouth up was decidedly feral. "Don't worry, they'll tell the Judge everything they know. I swear it."
"The big one," Vin said, his eyes beginning to close again, "ain't goin'… t' talk…"
"You leave that to us," Chris said, reaching out to pull the blanket up, covering the already-sleeping tracker's chest.
"Chris?"
The gunslinger turned at the sound of the voice, eyes swimming with tears as he smiled at the healer as he walked over to join him. "He woke up, Nate, twice. He drank that cup of medicine the first time, and I just got half a bowl of broth into him."
Nathan smiled broadly, clapping Larabee on the shoulder. The man's excitement made him sound more like Billy Travis than the feared gunman he was. "Thank God! Here, let me get a look at 'im."
Chris stepped aside to give Nathan the room he needed, then walked over to the stove and poured himself a cup of coffee. He noted the plate of food that was sitting on the small table. It looked good, which surprised him.
"That's fo' you," Nathan called softly. "Ya won't be any use to Vin if ya don't keep yo'r strength up. You sit and eat that while I see how he's doin'."
Chris nodded, sitting down and making his way though the meal Nathan had brought from Inez's kitchen. Nathan joined him just as he finished.
"So?" Larabee asked, looking up at the healer, hope shining in his eyes for the first time in a long while.
"Fever's gone way down, and the infection looks like it's clearin'. Gonna be a while befo' he's ready to leave that bed, though. And his feet still look pretty bad, but he should make it." He shook his head. "Don't believe it, Chris. The man should've been dead… never seen anyone fight like that boy."
Chris nodded, glancing over at the injured man. "Stubborn as an Arkansas mule."
Nathan chuckled and nodded. "And I thank God fo' it, too."
"Amen, to that," Chris agreed, his chin trembling slightly.
"I want to treat his feet and clean up a couple of them other wounds. Why don't you go get some sleep? Josiah's comin' back in a few hours to spell me, and I want to sit with him t'night, in case that fever comes up again. You can take over after breakfast tomorrow, if ya want."
Chris wanted to say no, that he would spend the night with Vin again, but he knew he needed the sleep, badly. He nodded. "But you come get me if anything changes."
Nathan nodded. "All right." He saw Larabee glance at the injured man again. "I promise. He's just gonna sleep t'day, except when I wake him up to give him more medicine or more broth."
"Good luck," Chris said, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth. "And if he gives you any trouble, just tell him you're goin' to get me up and have me do it. I think that might make him a little more cooperative."
Nathan grinned. "Sounds good. I might just do it, too, if he gives me too much trouble."
Larabee nodded, a part of him hoping Vin did. He wasn't sure he'd be able to stay away until the following morning anyway.