A half-hour later

Chris watched Tanner carefully. The shivering had stopped and a calm serenity had settled over the tracker. The water had risen so it was now up to his neck, just beginning to lap at his chin. As he watched, Vin tilted his head back and closed his eyes. For a moment it looked as if Tanner was sleeping, or praying, but then Chris realized that Vin was gauging how much longer he had before the water covered his face.

"They'll be ready soon," he said softly, desperately hoping he was right.

The blue eyes opened and Vin turned his head so he could look at Larabee. The longing Larabee saw in his eyes made the gunman shiver.

"Reckon it might not be soon enough. Water's risin' faster now."

Moving slowly so the ripples he raised on the surface didn't choke the tracker, Larabee crossed to stand beneath the crack and called up, "I need that rope, Buck! Now!"

"They're comin'!" was the immediate reply. "I can see JD; just a little bit more!"

"Tell him to hurry, goddamn it!" Chris snapped. "He's drowning!"

"Easy, Cowboy," Vin called to him. "They're doin' ever'thing they c'n; don't need ya snappin' at 'em like a hungry she bear."

The gunslinger glanced over, meeting and holding the tracker's gaze. Chris knew that the peace he saw reflected in Tanner's eyes was due, in large part, to his confidence that, should it come down to it, Larabee would pull the trigger, just like he'd promised. The only problem was, Chris still wasn't sure if he could actually do it, and he sure as hell didn’t want to find out.

But Tanner was rapidly running out of time; that much he knew for certain. The tracker's head was now tilted back again, and this time the water was almost covering his ears.

"Here it comes!" Buck called down from above. A moment later a coil of rope dropped into the rising water with a splash. Vin coughed and spat water from his mouth when the ripples it created broke over his face.

Chris scooped up the coil and walked back to the beam. "Hold your nose and close your mouth," he instructed the tracker.

"Git movin'," was Vin's only reply.

Then, ignoring his still-throbbing head, Chris sucked in a deep breath and ducked under the water.

As Larabee disappeared, Vin sucked in a deep breath of his own and used one hand to pinch his nostrils closed. He also squeezed his lips and eyes closed. Water lapped over his face as Chris sank under the surface.

The blond opened his eyes underwater, but the liquid was too silty for him to see anything clearly, so he closed them again and, using his hands to guide him, found the beam, and then Tanner. He tied the rope around the wood, close to the tracker's legs, his cold-numbed fingers slow and clumsy. He silently cursed himself and ordered his fingers to complete their task faster, but it was taking too long.

He surfaced, gasping in a breath. "Buck! Pull!" he hollered. "Pull!"

The rope was almost immediately drawn taut, then it began to squeak as the beam was slowly shifted.

Chris heard Tanner's muffled cry of pain and looked back at the tracker. Vin was struggling to free himself, the water lapping over his face as he did. An expulsion of air was followed by a frantic gasp between the ripples that broke over him.

"Pull!" Chris yelled again, slogging over and trying to help lift the weight off Vin.

A moment later there was a sharp crack! and the beam settled onto the tracker again. The rope had snapped.

"Buck!"

"Here!" was the immediate reply, followed a moment later by another coil of rope and then a second. "Use both! We're gonna try pullin' from the other side!"

Chris cursed as he hurried over to grab the new ropes as quickly as he could, pulling them over to the beam. He grabbed the ends and started to duck back under the water, but Vin stopped him, a hand clutching desperately at his arm.

"Y' promised," Tanner said, almost strangling as the water began to cover his mouth.

"Hold on, Vin," Chris begged him, then ducked under the water again. He worked as fast as he could, his own pain now pushed to the back of his mind as he fought frantically to save his best friend's, his love's life. He could feel the tracker fighting, trying to strain closer to the surface of the water so he could take another breath.

Larabee broke the surface, yelling, "Now! Pull! Hurry!"

The ropes went taut again, and the gunslinger looked back only to find Vin's face now completely covered by the cold water. The tracker's blue eyes were open, staring up at him, pleading with him.

"Hang on!" Chris yelled at Tanner, grabbing the beam and pushing with every bit of strength he had left, but his gaze never lost its connection with Vin's. The trust was still there, but there was a growing fear as well.

Then Tanner began to writhe under the surface, fighting with everything he had for his life.

Larabee felt the beam begin to shift, but it was moving so slowly. Too slowly, he knew.

Vin's arms flailed against the surface of the water, his fists pounding it, and he howled wordlessly at the gunslinger, blue eyes rounding wide with terror.

Chris could still see those eyes, open under the surface, demanding that he keep his promise.

Larabee released the beam, his efforts not actually helping in the slightest anyway. Relief instantly flooded Tanner's expression and the peace returned.

There was a shift in Larabee's awareness, as if he were watching someone else reach for his gun – resting safe and dry on a pile of rubble – then point it at the man he called his friend, his love. Swift images from earlier that day flashed though his mind as he cocked the hammer back and took careful aim.

And all of Vin's struggles ceased and he met Chris' gaze one last time. The love he felt was all too clear and Larabee trembled violently, unsure if his aim could be sure. Then the tracker closed his eyes to spare Larabee, and waited.

"God forgive me," Chris whispered with a strangled sob as his finger began to squeeze. "I'm sorry, Vin, I'm sorry, God, Vin, I love you…"

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Fear like none he had ever known consumed Vin like dry prairie grass in a wildfire. He knew he was going to drown if Chris didn't keep his word. He fought, pounding the surface of the water, trying to make Larabee understand that it was time. Now. Then he caught the man's eyes and he knew. Chris was hesitating, unable to keep his promise.

"Now, damn ya!" he screamed as loudly as he could, sacrificing what little air he had left in the hope that, somehow, Larabee would hear and understand him.

Then he saw Chris step away from the beam, saw the gun in his hand. He had understood.

Tanner looked up through the water, meeting the anguished green eyes and holding the man's gaze for a long moment, trying to thank him as best he could, trying to tell Chris just how much he loved him. Then he closed his eyes, not wanting his friend to see the life leave his body. He felt himself start to breathe in the cold liquid and prayed Chris' bullet would arrive in time.

And then he felt the beam shift.

His body reacted automatically, jerking hard, breaking the surface. He gasped for air, then coughed violently as he choked on the water already in his mouth. In the same frenzied moment he heard the shot and jerked, expecting to be hit.

He forced his eyes open as he retched. But even as his stomach and lungs tried to reject the water filling them, he smiled thinly. Larabee had kept his promise. A man couldn't ask for a better friend than that. It was a rare gift indeed and he hoped he would have been strong enough to do the same for Chris if the situation had been reversed, but he honestly wasn't sure.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Vin shot up out of the water, his head breaking the surface, an immediate, desperate gasp for air filling the space.

Chris' hand jerked at the last possible moment, the bullet slamming into the wall of the tunnel.

"Chris?" Buck hollered down, his voice full of panic.

"Whoa! Stop! He's out!"

Tanner continued to choke in violent bouts of barking coughs, then leaned forward and retched into the water.

"Chris?" Buck called again. "Chris, is Vin all right?"

"He's alive!" Larabee called back up, not at all sure how the man was actually doing yet.

"Move him away!" Buck yelled at them. "I'm cuttin' the horses loose!"

Chris wrapped his arm around Tanner's shoulders and guided him away from the beam as best he could. There was a pair of twanging sounds as the ropes were cut and the beam sank slowly to the ground, landing with a dull thud.

A few moments later, two more ropes were dropped down through the fissure.

"Can you walk?" Chris asked the tracker, who was sagging heavily against him, shaking all over.

Vin nodded, still wheezing and hacking as he tried to clear his lungs. Together, the two men struggled through the waist-deep water until they were standing beneath the fracture.

Chris took one of the ropes and tied it around Vin's chest, his hands shaking as he worked, although he didn't understand why. It was over. Tanner was alive. "He's ready!" he yelled up to Buck and the others.

A few moments later the rope was pulled taut, then began to creak as Vin was lifted slowly upward. The tracker groaned loudly as he cleared the water.

"Vin?"

"'M all right," the tracker gasped, but agony was shooting through his ribs as the rope continued to tightened around him, robbing him of his vision first, and then his consciousness.

"Vin!" Larabee bellowed when the tracker went limp. When there was no reply, he yelled to Buck, "Hurry! He's passed out!"

As the tracker reached the opening, Buck leaned into the fissure – Nathan and Ezra holding tight to his legs to keep him from falling into the shaft – and helped maneuver Vin through the narrow space so he didn't swing into the sides on the way up.

Next to the fissure, Josiah waited to pull Vin out when he reached the top of the crevice.

"Here he comes," Buck called back over his shoulder.

The former preacher knelt at the edge and leaned over, taking hold of the tracker and lifting him out. He laid Tanner gently on the ground.

Once Buck was pulled back up, Nathan went to work, checking the tracker over carefully.

"Now you, stud!" Buck called down to Chris.

Larabee tied the rope around himself and yelled, "All right!" And a moment later he was on his way up, free of the cold water and the shaft at last.

When he reached the fissure, he used his hands to keep himself in the center of the narrow space so he didn't strike the jagged sides. Then he felt hands grabbing him, pulling him out. He collapsed back onto the ground, moaning as the pain in his head flared again.

More hands were touching him and Chris forced his eyes open. Buck and Josiah were checking him over, making sure he wasn't hurt. He wanted to tell them to stop, to leave him alone – that he was all right – but he couldn't find the strength to do it. Instead, he rolled his head to the side and watched as Nathan and Ezra worked over Vin. JD wasn't far away, holding the horses and keeping the villagers back.

Chris sighed with frustration. How the hell was Vin? Why weren't they telling him anything? He tried to sit up, wanting to demand the answers to his questions, but a wave of agony crashed against the inside of his skull. His green eyes rolled back and he slipped into the darkness, a single word echoing in his mind: Vin.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

"Vin, where you hurt?" Nathan asked as soon as he was at the tracker's side, his hands going first to the bloody cut on the side of the man's head. The tracker's left cheek was also bruised, his eye nearly swollen shut as well.

"M' leg," Tanner replied, his normally raspy voice more raw and gravelly than usual. "An' m' ribs."

The healer went to the tracker's leg next, cutting the bloody bandanna off and examining the gash he found underneath. It was wide, but not too deep.

Nathan fished into his saddle bags and pulled out the carbolic, needle and thread, and fresh bandages, immediately going to work on the wound – cleaning, stitching, bandaging.

Vin sucked in a sharp breath, his body instantly going rigid when Nathan pulled the cut open and poured in the carbolic. A moment later he relaxed again, his eyes sliding shut when the flare of pain carried him away on the crest of the burning agony.

"A godsend," Ezra breathed softly, the expression of pure anguish he'd seen on the tracker's face a moment before having nearly caused the gambler to retch.

Nathan nodded, glad for any pain his friends could be spared.

The healer had just finished stitching the wound closed a few minutes later when Rain appeared at his shoulder and handed him a jar half-full of a fine brown powder. "Sprinkle it over the wound," she instructed him. "It will help keep the infection away for a time."

Nathan did as she'd said, then wrapped the closed gash tightly enough to protect it, but still loose enough to allow it to drain if infection did set in.

That done, the healer pulled open Vin's hide coat and unbuttoned the tracker's shirt, pulling that open as well. Two large, purpling bruises were spreading across the man's body, one along his left side, the other just above his right hip and lower abdomen.

Nathan carefully checked the tracker's ribs under the bruising, which jolted Vin back to consciousness with a snarling hiss. "Damn it, Nathan, y' tryin' t' finish me off?" he moaned, beginning to shiver despite the warm sunlight that shone down upon him.

The healer shook his head. "Just found a couple 'a cracked ribs is all," he told the man. Then he turned his attention to the bruise above the tracker's hip. He pressed and prodded, but didn't find anything to tell him Vin might be bleeding inside. A small, grateful sigh escaped his lips as he settled back on his heels. "Done all I can here," he said to the others. "We need to get the two of 'em back to town."

"You are welcome to treat them in the village," the old chief offered.

Nathan shook his head. "Be better if I can get 'em back to town. I've got more medicines there."

The old man nodded his understanding. "Rain tells me you are a gifted healer, and I have seen it for myself. We will help you in any way we can, you need only ask."

"We appreciate that, but right now I just need to get these two on their horses so's we can start back." Nathan looked down at Vin, who was still shivering. "I'm gonna take a look at Chris, then we'll get ya back t' town. You just lay still 'til then, y'hear?"

Tanner nodded, glancing over at the gunslinger, who hadn't moved in a long while. Vin's expression was guarded, but the healer could see the worry in the man's expressive blue eyes.

Nathan picked up his saddlebags, saying, "I'll tell you if there's anything wrong," and then moved over to Chris. He found a lump the size of a silver dollar on the man's head, a small cut in the center, and he cleaned it, which woke the unconscious man.

Larabee sat up with a start.

"Easy, Chris," Jackson said, reaching out to grab the man's shoulders. "You're all right."

"Vin?" Larabee called, starting to turn and look for the tracker.

"Right here, Cowboy," Vin rasped and the blond immediately relaxed, slumping against the hands supporting him.

"How is he?" Chris asked Nathan as the healer laid him back down on the ground.

"I cleaned and closed that gash in his leg. He has a couple 'a cracked ribs – not too bad, though." He hesitated for a moment, but it was long enough for Larabee to guess there was something more.

"What?" he demanded softy.

"Sounds like he got some water in his lungs…"

Chris shook his head slightly, unsure what the healer was trying to tell him.

"Gonna have t' watch him for lung fever," Nathan said softly. "But right now, I want t' know how you're doin'."

"I'm fine," Larabee replied, starting to get up again, but as soon as he tried to move, the pain flared in his head and his stomach started to turn. He froze, waiting to see if he was going to be sick. Thankfully, he wasn't.

"Well, that don't look fine to me," the healer commented dryly, shaking his head.

Larabee shot the man a glare that was, annoyingly, ignored.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Less than a half hour later, both men were ready to travel. Chris climbed painfully into his saddle, his movements slow and unusually awkward for the gunslinger. He sat on the black gelding, his shoulders hunched and his head down and held as still as he could manage.

Nearby, Tanner's face contorted with pain as he was hoisted astride Josiah's horse, but he didn't cry out. The preacher climbed up behind him, bracing the tracker against his chest.

Vin sat, panting from the pain but still looking annoyed and put out. Peso was tied to the preacher's saddle horn, appearing no happier about the situation than his owner did.

"'M tellin' y', I c'n ride jus' fine," he argued weakly, but the immediate chill that shook his body cast strong doubts on the validity of his comment.

"You just stay right there, Vin Tanner," Nathan half-growled at the tracker. "Ya give Josiah any trouble, I'll force a dose of laudanum down yo'r throat and take you back slung over the back of yo'r horse, y'hear me?"

Tanner lapsed into annoyed silence, reduced to glowering at the healer. He could feel the big man's chest shake as the man chuckled softly. "Ain't a damned bit funny, J'siah," he rasped.

"Just sit back and enjoy the ride," Josiah told the tracker.

"I c'n ride m'self jus' fine," Vin insisted quietly.

"Maybe so, but we're not going to find out for sure this time, brother."

With Chris and Vin mounted, the peacekeepers headed back to town, Nathan, JD and Ezra riding ahead to get the clinic ready while Josiah and Buck stayed back to escort the two wounded men at a slower pace.

The two uninjured regulators exchanged amused glances as both Chris and Vin muttered softly to themselves about overly cautious healers. But less than an hour later, those expressions had turned to ones of profound worry. Vin was starting to build a fever, and Chris was swaying dangerously in his saddle.

Buck pulled up alongside his old friend and reached out to steady Chris with a hand on his shoulder. "Easy there, pard."

"What?" Larabee asked, jerking upright, his hand reaching for his Colt.

"Easy, stud, easy," Wilmington replied. "It looked like you were ready t' slide right outta your saddle – that's all."

"I'm fine," Larabee replied, his shoulders hunching again as his head dipped.

"That's what ya keep tellin' me," Buck replied, "but I'm not ready t' draw to it just yet… I think you're bluffin'."

Chris shot the man a glare, then glanced over at Vin and asked soft enough that only Buck could hear him, "How's he doing?"

"His fever's building," Wilmington answered honestly. "And his leg's bleeding some, but it ain't too much."

Larabee's gaze swept over the landscape, really seeing it for the first time since they had started out from the village. They were getting close to Four Corners, and for that he was glad. Vin could get the treatment he needed there, and he could curl up in his bed and sleep this damned headache away.

"Whoa, pard," Buck said, his hand on Chris' shoulder again.

Larabee jerked for a second time.

"Damn it, Chris, if you're gonna keep fallin' asleep on me, you're gonna have t' ride with me. I let you fall outta that saddle, Nathan'll skin me for sure."

"Sleep?" Chris asked him, his expression completely confused. "Buck, what the hell are you talkin' about?"

The big ladies' man shook his head. "That bump on your head must've rattled ya pretty good, pard."

Chris scowled at the man, but he said nothing. Instead, he gigged his horse and rode up alongside Josiah. Vin was leaning back against the preacher's chest, head lolled to one side, eyes closed. The tracker's face was flushed and Chris could see the blood soaking the bandage wrapped around his leg.

The gunslinger looked up, meeting Josiah's eyes as he asked, "How's his fever?"

"Still climbing," the preacher replied truthfully, but his voice low so he wouldn't wake the tracker.

"Damn," Chris replied, his lips pressing into a thin line of worry. He noted how the big man kept one arm wrapped around Tanner, cradling him gently against his chest. He wished it was him, holding the tracker, but Vin was in good hands.

Buck pulled up next to Larabee, refusing to ride next to Tanner's cantankerous horse, which walked on the other side of Josiah's mount.

The men four rode in silence for several minutes, then the ladies' man asked softly, "Chris, I heard a shot down in that shaft… What was that all about?"

Larabee paled slightly as he remembered just how close he'd come to shooting Vin. "Just trying to keep a promise I didn't want to keep," he said, his expression telling Wilmington that he wouldn't get anything more from him on the subject.

But the ladies' man had a pretty good idea what Chris was talking about, and knowing he'd been right about the reason behind the shot sent a shiver racing down his spine. He met Josiah's eyes and the preacher said softly, "Blessed be the Lord, who hath given rest unto his people Israel, according to all that he promised: there hath not failed one word of all his good promise…"

Chris kept his gaze fixed stubbornly on the trail and silently wished his friends weren't so damned good at reading his silences.

A short time later

Vin remained asleep or unconscious until Josiah pulled his gelding up at the clinic, then the tracker jerked back to awareness with a strangled gasp.

"Easy, brother," came Josiah's low, rumbling voice.

Tanner stilled, realizing that he was safe, even if he wasn't sure where he was, or what was happening. He felt Josiah slide off the horse, and the next thing he knew he was being carried up a flight of stairs. He frowned and forced his eyes open. They were going to the clinic. He mumbled a weak protest, but the preacher ignored him.

Vin was vaguely aware that Buck and Chris were ahead of them, Larabee moving a little unsteadily on his feet. The tracker tried to remember why that would be the case, but he couldn't. And then they reached the door.

"Put me down," Vin grumbled. "I c'n walk."

"Not on that leg," Josiah told him, waiting as Buck pulled the door open, he and Larabee stepping inside. He stepped inside behind them and Vin caught the flash of a reassuring smile from Ezra as the gambler stepped past them, shutting the door.

"Get his clothes off an' put him in the bed," Nathan called from where he stood, already checking Chris' head wound again. Buck stood next to the healer, peering over his shoulder.

"Why don't ya help Josiah?" Jackson suggested to the ladies' man.

Sanchez carried Vin over and gently sat him down on the bed. With Buck's help, he carefully removed the tracker's coat and then his shirt, but when the preacher went to take off Tanner's boots, Vin waved him off and took them off himself.

Josiah removed the bandage on Tanner's leg, then the tracker stood and removed his pants as well, but only after Nathan told him if he didn't do it himself, Josiah and Buck would do it for him. The long johns were next, after the same threat.

Naked, Vin lay back down in the bed and Josiah covered the wound and then pulled the blankets up to make sure Tanner stayed warm until Nathan could get to him.

Buck looked over at the preacher, saying, "I'll go see how things are doing and help JD with the horses. We'll be back."

"Get yourselves something to eat," Josiah told the man as he turned to leave.

Chris watched the whole thing, growing more and more worried. It wasn't like Vin to go along with Nathan's orders like that. He met Josiah's worried gaze and felt his heart begin to beat faster. Vin must be feeling awfully bad to be that cooperative.

"All right, Chris, I'm done," Nathan told the gunslinger. "I want to take another look at this tomorrow – make sure it don't get infected. You need to get some rest now, but I want ya to stay here so I can keep an eye on ya. Head wound ain't nothin' t' be taken lightly."

Chris frowned, wishing he could put up an argument, but he really didn't want to leave. He wanted to be close by, in case Vin needed him, so he nodded.

"Ya can sleep in my bed," the healer said, nodding toward the small space hidden behind a colorful Indian blanket that was draped over a length of rope.

Larabee stood and shuffled over to the blanket, pulling it back. He glanced over his shoulder once to see that Nathan had started to work on Vin, then ducked behind the blanket and crawled into the narrow bed, immediately falling asleep.

Ezra, who had remained in the corner, out of the way, shook his head, saying with honest admiration, "Mr. Jackson, you are a dangerous man."

Nathan, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, already looking at the wound in Vin's leg, glanced over his shoulder and grinned at the gambler. "Just you remember that," he replied.

"Took 'im long enough t' figger that out, didn't it?" Vin asked airily.

Josiah and Nathan chuckled, Ezra joining in.

The healer turned his attention back to the tracker, frowning down at the gash, which had turned red and puffy since he'd seen it last. At least the infection could explain Vin's building fever, and it would be much easier to deal with than lung fever. Glancing up at Josiah, he said, "Heat some water fo' me."

The big man nodded and moved off to do as he'd been asked.

While he waited, Jackson poured a small dose of laudanum into a cup and added water. He handed the mixture to Vin, who hesitated, but then took it and drank it down without comment, although his expression said all he needed to about what the concoction tasted like.

When the water was warm, Nathan carefully cleaned the wound, then used the carbolic on it again before he applied an ointment and then wrapped it up again.

Vin endured the entire process in stoic silence, but as soon as Nathan covered him up, his eyes dropped closed and he slipped back to the welcome escape of sleep.

"How does our intrepid tracker fare?" Ezra asked the healer after Nathan had pulled a blanket up and tucked it under Vin's shoulders.

"Ain't sure yet. That infection in his leg's gettin' worse, but his fever seems too high fo' that."

"You thinking lung fever? Pneumonia?" Josiah asked him.

Nathan shrugged. "Hope not, but all that water in his lungs… would be a good bet."

"Not one I would desire to win with," Ezra said quietly.

"Me either," Nathan agreed.

The door to the clinic opened and Buck and JD came in. "How are they?" the ladies' man asked.

Jackson filled the two men in, adding, "Might be a long night, dependin' on how Vin's fever goes. It's building, but it ain't too bad just yet."

"That's why we're here," JD said. "We want to help."

"Where's Chris?" Buck asked, glancing around and frowning.

Nathan nodded to his private quarters, saying, "Gettin' some sleep."

Buck's eyes rounded.

"Brother Nathan does work the occasional miracle," Josiah offered by way of an explanation.

Buck grinned. "Hell, Josiah, I knew that."

Late the following evening

Vin's fever built slowly over the next twenty-four hours, and with it a wet cough developed that rattled his ribcage and sent searing fingers of pain clawing through his chest. Chills assailed him, making him shake. His head pounded and every time he tried to eat anything, he immediately threw it back up. The wound in his leg throbbed mercilessly, making sleep difficult or impossible.

All in all, he was purely miserable, and it seemed to only be getting worse.

But at least Nathan had found a way to make clearing his lungs a little more bearable. The healer and whoever was helping him at the time – the others taking turns in shifts – pressed pillows against the tracker's chest and back as soon as he started coughing up the greenish mucus that seemed to be coating the inside of his lungs and making it hard for him to breathe. And they held the pillows there until the cough became a painful, wheezing gasp for breath. It didn't stop the fire from racing along his ribs each time his muscles contracted, but it did make it more bearable.

But each bout of coughing left Tanner a little weaker than the last and the growing concern in his friends' eyes scared Vin. But he knew he couldn't give up. No matter what, no matter how bad it got, he had to keep fighting – for them and, most especially, for Larabee.

He knew how much Chris cared for him, how important he had become to the man. And he suspected that, should he die, Larabee would fall back into the black depression that had nearly killed him when Sarah and Adam had died. He didn't want that to happen, didn't trust that Chris could pull himself out of it a second time.

He had to fight through this and live. There were no other options.

The next morning

After Vin's latest attack of wet, racking coughs that were closer to choking than anything, the tracker crumpled into Chris' arms, his sagging body a mass of aching, sweat-coated and quivering muscles.

Larabee gently eased Tanner back down onto the pile of pillows and blankets that had been stacked up to keep him sitting up in the bed. The gunslinger exchanged a worried glance with Nathan, who sighed softly and shook his head.

The healer stepped away, going over to make some more tea, hoping the tracker might keep it down long enough for the medicines he stirred into it to do him some good. Vin couldn't seem to keep any food down, but at least the liquids sometimes stayed put.

Vin lay slumped against the pile of pillows, his face pale and filmy with perspiration, his leg wound oozing infection. Chris went to work, cleaning it as he'd seen Nathan do earlier, but couldn't help grimacing at the sight of the inflamed flesh.

"That bad, huh?" Tanner commented airily.

"Nathan says it's getting better, but I can't see how he can tell," Chris told him, not wanting the tracker to worry, but refusing to lie to him.

"Wish m' chest was," Vin panted.

Nathan returned and held out a cup to Larabee. Vin, knowing what it was, and what he had to do, tried to sit up so he could drink, but he was too weak and started to sag back.

Larabee quickly slid an arm around his partner and lifted him up, but he had to cradle Vin's head against his own chest to keep him there. Tanner relaxed against the blond, grateful for the contact. He missed lying in Chris' arms, touching the man, being touched. He wished he could just lie down, Chris beside him, holding him.

After a quick but careful shift so Larabee could hold the cup for the weak tracker, Larabee set the rim of the cup to Vin's lips, urging him to drink. The tracker took a little, but refused more, even when Chris persisted.

"Belly's already tryin' t' turn a flip," he told the gunslinger.

And, a few short moments later, he was vomiting the sips of medicinal tea into an empty basin. "Damn it," he breathed when his stomach finally emptied and settled again.

"Ya just have to keep trying," Nathan told him as Chris helped Vin lay back against the pillows. "The more ya keep down the better."

"It ain't gettin' no better, Nate," Vin complained.

"It will," Nathan promised him.

Vin nodded and gave up to the exhaustion that dragged at him like insistent hands, trying to pull him into a still, dark pool. He closed his eyes, letting the blackness sweep him away from the pain.

Once the tracker was sleeping again, the healer walked over to prepare another powder he had gotten from Ming, the Chinese apothecary who also ran the laundry in Four Corners. He shook his head, muttering to himself as he worked.

Larabee walked over to stand across the table from Jackson and asked, "How's he doing? The truth, Nathan."

The healer looked up, meeting the gunslinger's worried green eyes and said, "His leg's healing, slowly, but I ain't too worried 'bout it. It's the fever that's gettin' worse, his lungs, too. If he could keep the medicine down, it might help him, but he can't… He's gettin' weak from lack of food and water." The healer sighed. "That's worryin' me some. A couple more days like this…"

"Isn't there something else we can try?"

"I sent Ezra t' fetch some of Inez's pudding. I know Vin's got a sweet tooth. Maybe he'll be able to keep that down. I'm goin' t' put some medicine in it and have him give it a try."

Chris nodded, then yawned, unable to stop himself.

"Why don't ya get some more sleep," Nathan said, more order than question. "I'll wake ya if I need ya. The more rest ya get, the sooner that headache's goin' to go away."

Chris hesitated for a moment, but then he nodded, knowing Jackson was right. He might feel better, but his head still ached and sleep seemed like the only way to chase the pain away when it got close to unbearable – and it was close to that now. Besides, he wouldn't be much help to Nathan or Vin if he couldn't concentrate on whatever the healer was telling him to do because he was too tired, or hurting too much, to pay attention.

The door to the clinic opened and Ezra stepped inside carrying a bowl of Inez's pudding. "It is as wonderful as always," he assured the two men.

Larabee looked back to Nathan, saying, "Wake me up if he needs me."

"I will," the healer promised, nodding.

Chris ducked behind the blanket and lay down on the bed without bothering to undress. He closed his eyes, listening to Nathan's and Ezra's quiet voices for a few moments before he drifted off to sleep, worrying about Vin…

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

…And found himself back in the mine shaft, Vin still trapped beneath the support beam… Still sitting under water, he realized with a panicked start.

He was trying to lift the bulky piece of wood off the tracker's legs, but it was too heavy, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't budge it.

He looked over at the tracker and saw Vin's blue eyes were open, his expression begging him to hurry, but Chris knew with an icy certainty that he wouldn't be able to help the tracker, not in time, anyway.

"Ya know what ya got t' do," Vin said levelly.

Chris held the tracker's gaze, the blue orbs demanding, then accusatory. "I can't," he replied.

"Ya promised, Chris."

"I can't, Vin. I can't."

"Chris, please," Vin begged him.

The gunslinger finally reached down, drawing his gun and lifting it so it was pointed directly at the tracker. Larabee's hand shook violently, the gun seemingly jumping in his hand like it was a living thing. He could see Tanner's eyes, still pleading. He could see the man's mouth open, and then the water, rushing into his lungs.

Vin began to fight, but still Larabee couldn't pull the trigger, his hand shaking so hard that he thought he would drop the Colt, but he didn't.

"Ya promised!" Vin screamed at him, coughing up blood and what looked like pus. Both flowed down over his chin, and then floated into the water in stringy strands, staining it a mix of pale red and green.

Chris tried to close his eyes, but he couldn't. His friend was dying. The man he loved in his bed. And worse, he was suffering.

Larabee knew he could end that suffering. All he had to do was pull the trigger. But he couldn't. He just couldn't. He loved Vin. How could he kill the thing he loved?

"Ya promised."

"God forgive me," Chris whispered, his finger finally beginning to tighten against the trigger.

A moment later the Colt's report thundered in the mine shaft, as loud as a cannon shot. Vin's eyes opened even wider, his gaze locked on Larabee's as his body jerked violently. Then the tracker smiled thinly and his eyes rolled back in his head.

Tanner drifted slowly up to the surface of the water, where he floated on his back, his arms flung out from his sides.

"Vin?" Chris said, confused. How had Tanner gotten free? What had he done?

Larabee moved through the thick water, which was turning a deeper shade of red now.

When he reached the tracker, Chris found the man's blue eyes open and staring up at him. And there was a hole, in the center of Tanner's forehead, where blood bubbled out of the wound, running down the sides of the man's head and into the water.

"Vin?" he called again. "Vin!"

But there was no answer. Vin was dead. He had killed his best friend, his love. He had killed the man who knew him better than he even knew himself. And for what? Tanner wasn't really trapped after all.

Then Vin's head turned slightly and the blue eyes met his, the tracker's gaze boring into his. "Why?" he asked Larabee. "Why'd ya kill me, Cowboy? I's almost free… I love ya, Chris… Don't ya remember?"

"No!" Chris screamed. "No!"

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

"No!" Chris screamed, bolting upright in the bed. He gasped for breath, sweat pouring down his face.

The blanket was swept back and Nathan rushed in, asking, "Chris, ya all right? What's wrong?"

Larabee waved the healer away, then ran a shaking hand over his face. "Bad dream," was all he said.

The healer nodded and held his tongue. "Vin's fever's gettin' worse," he said softly. "Ya need me?"

Chris shook his head and Jackson quickly backed out of the space, the blanket dropping back into place.

Sitting up in the bed, waiting for his heart to stop pounding, Chris could hear Vin out in the clinic, struggling to breathe, each inhalation wet and rattling. And then the coughing started again and, when it was over, all he could hear was the tracker's weak gasps and soft moans.

"Easy," he heard Nathan say. "I want ya t' try drinking this."

"No," Vin panted in reply. "Cain't."

There was a pause, then the healer said, "All right, but I need you to help me here. Me and Buck are going to set up a steam tent for ya. I want you to sit under it and breathe the steam in as deep as you can. Ya do that?"

Larabee knew Vin must have nodded his willingness to try, because he could hear the sounds of someone moving around. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood.

Pushing past the blanket, he found the tracker sitting on the edge of the bed, his head and shoulders hidden under a piece of tarp. Steam curled out from under the bottom of the canvas, the wisps of grey mist carrying an odd aroma to the gunslinger.

Chris walked over to where the healer stood beside Vin, and asked, "What're you doing?"

"Got some oil from Ming. Said if I could get Vin t' breathe the vapors, it would loosen the phlegm. Figured it was worth a try since he can't seem to keep anything down." There was a pause and then he added, "I'm runnin' out of ideas."

Larabee nodded. "Anything I can do?"

Buck walked over carrying a kettle. "Water's ready," he told Nathan, then shot Larabee a reassuring glance.

The healer took the kettle and lifted the tarp a little, pouring more boiling water into the basin sitting in the tracker's lap. "Just stay under there and keep breathing," he told Tanner, then turned to Chris and said, "If this works, he's goin' to start coughin' soon. If you can sit behind him and hold the pillow against his back, that'll make it a little easier fo' him when it starts."

Chris nodded and climbed onto the bed. "Easy, pard, just me," he said, sliding in behind Vin and leaning back against the wall of the clinic. He sat there, waiting, wishing he could reach out and hold the tracker. He wanted the man whole and well. He wanted to run his fingers over the man's chest, tease the small, hard nubs, kiss his shoulders… reach down and take him in his hand…

A few moments later, the first cough erupted from under the tarp.

Buck and Nathan quickly removed the cover over Vin's head and took the basin away. Chris pressed a pillow against Vin's back and the tracker grabbed another one, pulling it tight against his chest and holding it there as a second, third and fourth cough tore though him. It felt like he was trying to rid himself of his lungs, a chunk at a time.

Nathan passed Tanner a cloth for him to spit into, then helped hold the pillow more tightly against the man's chest and ribs.

When the bout finally ended, Vin slumped back, ending up pressed against Chris' chest, too weak to move. Awareness slipped though his thoughts, elusive and fleeting. Was it the same day as the festival, or another? He thought he'd spent a day or two with the fiery agony ripping though his chest, but maybe he'd only been dreaming it. Had he made love with Chris just this morning? It seemed like forever had passed since he'd been buried inside the man. He wished Chris could take him right here, make him forget all the other aches and pains hat assailed him.

Or maybe he had actually drowned in that old mine shaft, and this was Hell – having Chris close, but unable to touch him, love him, be loved by him…

No. No, that couldn't be right. There'd been a ride in there somewhere. There weren't any horses in Hell, were there?

But he hadn't been able to climb down from the horse… not Peso… Josiah's horse.

Why had he been riding Josiah's horse?

No, wait, he wasn't riding Deuteronomy, not alone anyway. He'd been riding with Josiah.

And then he remembered. He couldn't dismount on his own; his muscles had been screaming with pain where they weren't numb or shaking.

Was that right? Or was he just shaking now? Maybe that was it. He was in Chris' arms and he was shaking… but then he was usually shaking when he was in Chris' arms.

But why had he been riding with Josiah? Had he been riding with Josiah?

He closed his eyes and tried hard to stop thinking. His head hurt so much he couldn't see anything except a few blurry shapes that wavered in front of him, and thinking only seemed to make it worse. He was hot and cold at the same time, and the incessant shivers that coursed through his body kept him from catching his breath. And his chest hurt, badly, like someone was trying to cut his lungs out, a strip at a time, with a broken bottle.

Why? Why did he hurt so much? Was he still trapped? Was he drowning? He didn't want to drown. He'd seen a man drown once. He'd seen the raw terror in the man's eyes as it happened and knew then that he didn't want to die that way. Hadn't Larabee promised him he'd shoot him before that happened?

But Chris had hesitated. He remembered that, too. Had Larabee waited too long?

God, he must be drowning. That would explain the burning agony in his chest, wouldn't it? If he was drowning, he had to try to… what? He couldn't remember any more.

Vin struggled feebly, a weak mewing sound escaping his lips.

"Easy, Vin, easy," Chris soothed. "I've got you, Vin. Lay still."

Chris? Was that Chris? Where was he? What was happening? Fear forced the tracker's eyes open. He blinked, trying to clear his vision and the shapes finally came into focus.

The clinic. He was in the clinic. Nathan's clinic.

Nathan had been talking to him earlier, hadn't he? He was sure he'd heard Nathan. And then there had been that foul-tasting brew the healer had been forcing on him. Hadn't he?

If he was in the clinic, then he wasn't drowning, but it still felt like his lungs were full of water.

Vin roused himself just enough to rasp out, "What's goin' on?" as he attempted to pull away from Chris.

"You're sick," Larabee's voice told him. "It's just the fever. Easy, Vin, just relax. We're takin' care of you."

And then Vin realized the gunslinger was sitting behind him, holding him, holding him tight against his chest. He was safe. Chris had his back. Chris would make sure he didn't drown.

He could hear Nathan and Buck speaking to him as well, soothing him with soft whispers of assurance, but he couldn't make out their exact words. And he couldn't see them either. But he knew they were there. And if they were there, the others must be nearby as well. He was safe. His friends were there. His family. Chris.

Vin let go, giving himself over to his friends' care.

Chris felt Vin relax and then eased him over and laid him down against the pile of pillows.

Nathan pressed the back of his hand against Tanner's sweaty, dirt-smeared brow, worry making his heart fret. The tracker was so hot…

At the cool touch Vin turned his head, and Jackson found himself staring into the startling, familiar blue eyes. "Easy, Vin," he soothed. "I think ya got the lung fever. I want ya t' lie still, y'hear?"

Tanner nodded.

"I'm goin' to get ya some water."

Fear coursed though Tanner. He didn't want the water; didn't want anything in his stomach at all. He would just throw it up and that would hurt. He had been throwing up a lot lately, and it had hurt every time. He was so tired of hurting.

How many times had he retched? How long had he been like this?

He didn't know the answer to either question, and he couldn't think well enough to figure either out. He rolled his head from side to side, moaning, "No."

"Easy," Larabee soothed. "You have to take some water, Vin."

He had to.

Chris wouldn't lie to him. If Chris said he had to drink it, Vin knew he had to drink it, but he still didn't want to. It was going to hurt.

And then the cup was pressing against his lips and he was gulping the sweet, cool liquid down his throat. It felt so good on his ravaged throat, tasted so good. He wanted more, but they were taking it away from him. Too soon! He moaned again.

"Not too much," Nathan told him. "We have to see if ya can keep it down first. If ya do, you can have some more."

Tanner closed his eyes, hoping it might ease the pain in his head, but it didn't. His stomach clenched, but he didn't retch. He almost laughed with relief.

The cup returned to his lips and he drank down some more of the wonderful water. Then it was gone again, too soon. He tried to draw a deeper breath and coughed once, then twice… and a third time. And once he started, he couldn't stop.

The pillows returned, and someone was pounding his back. He wanted to tell them to stop, but he couldn't breathe. Panic flared and he tried to escape the torture being inflicted upon him, his arms flailing. But his wrists were caught and held.

He couldn't break free of the grip, too weak, and he couldn't stop coughing. It felt like he was dying.

He wished he was dying.

And then he felt the convulsive coughs cease, and the pounding turned to rubbing on his back. The touch felt good… so good. He relaxed a little, and as soon as he did, he slipped into the blackness that swept up unexpectedly and carried him away without a fight.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

"Nathan?" Chris questioned when he felt Vin slip away.

"It's all right," the healer said. "He's just sleeping." He looked up, meeting Larabee's eyes and smiling. "And he kept the water down."

Chris offered Jackson a small smile of his own in return. "What does that mean?"

"Means I got some medicine into him."

Larabee nodded, hoping it would be enough. It had to be enough. He couldn't lose Vin, not now. Not after they escaped from that mine shaft. Not ever, he admitted to himself. Lord God, how had he allowed himself to fall in love again?

The following morning

Vin was sluggishly trying to swing his legs over the side of the bed when Chris walked into the clinic. Nathan was sitting in a chair near the bed, his head down, soundly sleeping.

"Hey, hey, what're you doing?" the gunslinger demanded, crossing the room in a hurry and reaching for Tanner.

"Chris," Vin said, straining against his grip. He lifted a shaky hand and pointed. "Tosi's trapped in the mine… we have t' find 'im…"

Chris put one knee on the bed, trying to keep Vin on it and not jostle him so much that he set off a coughing fit. "I know, Vin, I know. But we got Tosi out. He's fine," he told the man as soothingly as he could manage. "Tosi's fine. Ezra's showing him some of those fancy card tricks."

"We cain't stay… water's risin' too fast," the tracker argued. "Don't want t' drown, Chris… y' cain't let me drown… promise."

"You won't drown, Vin, I promise you," Chris told him. "You can't drown. You're free. You're not trapped. You hear me? You can't drown. We'll be fine. Buck and Nathan and the others are here. They're going to get us out. You just need to lay back and rest. This'll be over soon."

Tanner blinked away the salty sweat that dripped into his eyes. He felt so damned weak, so confused. His mind was so mixed up he could barely think at all.

"Don't want t' drown, Chris," he weakly protested again, his elbow slipping to the mattress.

Larabee caught him and pushed him back against the pillows. Looking over, he saw Nathan was awake and watching them. The healer nodded, making it clear that Chris should keep talking. He rose and headed across the room to pour water into a cup before he added some medicine to it.

Chris looked back at Vin, who was muttering to himself. He sat down on the edge of the bed and started talking to the tracker, telling him about the mine, the cave-in, and how they had gotten out.

Vin was dimly aware of the fact that Larabee was talking to him, or that activity was taking place around him. There were murmured voices and rustling noises, but his brain couldn't sort out the myriad sounds, or tell him what they meant. His hearing, like his vision, was fuzzy. But it felt so good not to be moving, and there was the water, sweet and cool. He savored it, although there was a slightly bitter aftertaste he didn't much care for.

He wasn't in the mine shaft, he realized. This was a bed. A soft, clean bed; the sheets even smelled freshly laundered. He wanted to sleep so badly, but he couldn't remember how to close his eyes. Darkness crept toward him, stalking him. And, finally, it pounced, closing over him, damping his pain and confusion. There was quiet nothingness hovering just beyond his awareness and Vin reached eagerly for it, dropping into it with a grateful sigh.

"Vin?" Chris called, but Tanner was out again. Looking up at Nathan he asked, "What's wrong with him?"

"The fever," was the only answer the healer could give.

The next afternoon

Vin's eyes sprang open at the touch on his ribs and a groan escaped his lips. He shuddered as the pain peaked and a new agony took its place. His hand came up, clawing at his chest.

"Easy," Larabee said and Vin clutched frantically his friend's arm.

"I'm sorry if this is hurtin' ya, Vin," Nathan told him softly. "Can ya hold still fo' me? I'll get done quick as I can."

The healer slowly finished checking the tracker's ribs, then went to work cleaning the reddened, running wound on Tanner's leg. Sitting next to him, Chris used one hand, curved around Vin's sweaty head, to keep it from tossing while he spoke softly to the man, trying to keep him quiet so Nathan could work.

The healer was afraid for the first time in a very long time, unsure of himself and his doctoring skills. He had seen a few others through lung fever before. But they hadn't had an infected wound, or cracked ribs along with it, and he just wasn't sure he could cure the tracker.

The door to the clinic opened and Nettie Wells stepped inside, closing it behind her. She walked straight over to the bed where Vin lay and looked down at the young man, her knowing gaze taking in the leg wound and the bruises. She glanced over at Nathan, saying, "Casey told me Vin has the lung fever."

The healer nodded. "Yes, ma'am, I think so. He caught it after he nearly drowned in an old mine shaft. Haven't been able t' do much t' help him. I sent fo' some stronger medicine, but it won't be here for another couple days, maybe more."

"Well, I don't know if that medicine will help him or not, but seein' as how it ain't here yet… I brought a poultice fer him. It saved m' husband's life some years back."

"Appreciate ya comin' into town with it," Nathan told her, the two walking over to the table to begin preparations, both discussing what else she would need.

Later that day

"Damn it!" Vin sobbed weakly as the latest coughing fit finally came to an end. His grip was knuckle-white on the sheet and tears of pain escaped from the outer corners of his eyes as he shuddered hard.

"I'm sorry, Vin, I'm so sorry," Larabee choked, wanting to cry right along with him. He swiftly removed the soiled pieces of cloth in Tanner's lap, all of them filled with bloody green mucus, then helped the man lean back against the pillows, but even those slight, careful movements were pure agony for the tracker. And, for a brief moment, Chris thought that maybe, just maybe, it would've been better if he hadn't pulled that shot in the mine shaft, but he pushed that notion away.

At least Vin was still alive, still fighting. He hadn't lost him yet. And, with luck, he wouldn't.

Nathan handed the gunslinger a cup in which some medicine had been poured.

"Drink this for me," Larabee urged Tanner. "It'll help with the pain."

Vin nodded and reached for the cup, but his hands were shaking so badly he could barely hold it without spilling it.

Chris quickly took it back. "Here, let me help you," he said, holding the tracker's head up and pressing the cup firmly against his lips.

Vin took a sip and Chris forced the medicine into him, barely giving him time to swallow. Then it was done and he settled Tanner back against the sweat-damp pillows once again.

Before Larabee could move, Nettie was standing beside him and he was helping her arrange a new, hot poultice on the tracker's chest. The smell rising off the steaming mess made Larabee's eyes water and he choked back a cough of his own. Once that was done, Vin slipped back into the oblivion he seemed to prefer recently.

Chris slowly straightened to face the worried eyes of the old woman standing beside him. "That's all we can do for now," he quietly told her.

"The Lord will do the rest," Josiah added from the doorway.

Chris shot the preacher a look laced with ire. "Let's hope so," he replied before exiting the clinic.

The preacher looked up saying softly, "With the merciful thou will show thyself merciful, oh Lord, and Brother Vin is about as merciful as they come, so, if it wouldn't be too much of a problem, he could use some of Your mercy right now."

"Amen, preacher," Nettie whispered. "Amen."

The next day

Vin's fever was up again. Nettie pressed the back of her hand to the tracker's brow and he quieted some under her tender touch.

Lord, but he was a sight, she thought. There hadn't been time to wash him, so intent were Nathan and the others on attending to his injuries first. And then the fever had kept them all too busy. As a result, Tanner's face was dirt-streaked and sweaty. Bruises made his left cheek and eye puffy, marring his otherwise youthful good looks – the result of the rocks striking him in the mine shaft. His lower lip bore scabs where it had been split, or bitten, and his hair was a tousle of dirty curls. Heavy stubble whiskered his cheeks and chin. He looked so unlike the man she had met some months earlier that it made her heart ache.

She shook her head. Having sent Nathan off to get some much-needed rest, she shooed the rest of the peacekeepers out on the healer's heels as well. All except Chris Larabee, who steadfastly refused to leave Tanner's side. But even he had agreed to lie down and get some rest when she'd insisted.

So, alone with the injured tracker, she checked her latest poultice, finding it still warm. At least the recipe seemed to make breathing a little easier for the man.

She stood and walked over to the table, preparing another for when this one cooled completely. By the time she'd finished, the gunslinger had wandered back into the clinic.

"If you're goin' ta be underfoot, best make yourself useful," she told him sternly. "Warm me some water an' bring me a basin. I want to get this boy cleaned up before I put that next poultice on."

Larabee nodded and walked over to the potbelly stove to set some water on in a kettle. "What's in that poultice anyway?" he asked her.

"Ground mustard seed, chopped onions and minced wild garlic," she told him matter-of-factly.

"If it works as good as it smells bad, he ought to be up and around in no time."

Nettie laughed softly. "Smells worse 'n Lucifer's own feet, I know, but it's done the job it's meant to do b'fore. It'll work again this time – seems ta work better on men-folk."

Vin shifted restlessly in the bed and Nettie walked over, sitting down on the edge and speaking to the fevered man in hushed tones, her soft, reassuring voice seemingly quieting him. When Chris brought her the warm water in a basin, she went to work, wiping and scrubbing, but being careful to stay clear of the leg wound and the cracked ribs lest it cause him any unnecessary discomfort.

The water in the basin slowly became discolored as she wiped the sweat, grime, and dried blood from his body.

Chris sat down in the chair that had been pulled up next to the tracker's bedside and watched her while she worked. Her hands were sure but gentle, a mother's hands. Not for the first time he wished he could have met Vin's mother – the woman who had instilled in her son the sense of right and wrong that seemed to guide all of them.

Silently, Nettie moved the cloth below Vin's chin to remove the rings of dirt circling his neck and throat. They disappeared easily and she moved to his collarbone and chest, unable to go any further because of the spreading bruises and the poultice.

Vin shifted then, his lips moving as he mumbled something they couldn't understand.

Nettie wiped away the sweat that had reformed across his forehead. "Hush," she said softly, her face close to his so he could hear her. "Yer all right now, son. Yer safe. All ya have ta do now is rest."

Tanner's eyes opened, glazed and unfocused. "Mama?" he asked timidly.

She pressed the cool, damp cloth to his brow, hoping it would soothe him back to sleep. "Lie still, son."

"Mama?" he asked again in a clear but low voice.

"No, Vin," she whispered sadly. "It's Nettie. Nettie Wells. But it's going ta be alright. Ya can rest now, Vin, yer with friends."

"Mama…" he breathed.

She knew he couldn't really see or hear her. Or at least he was unable to truly comprehend what she had told him. His fever was weaving a vision of his lost mother before his eyes and she was supplying the dead woman's voice.

One of Vin's hands came up, reaching for her, his fingertips touching her cheek. She caught his hand and tried to tuck it back under the blanket, but he resisted. Even in his weakened condition he still had some strength left, but she didn't want him to spend it on a dream, so she wrapped her hands around his and held on tightly. "Shh, son, yer goin' ta be just fine."

Vin rolled his head to the side, catching sight of the gunslinger. His blue eyes rounded with surprise and a little fear. "Chris?" he breathed, saying the word the way he would when they were making love. "Aw hell… Are ya dead, Cowboy?"

Larabee shook his head, saying, "No, Vin, I'm not dead, and neither are you. You're just sick. We want you to rest now. You're going to be all right."

Tanner shook with a chill, but he closed his eyes, his fingers tightening around Nettie's and she squeezed back.

Feeling safe, he allowed himself slip back into the darkness.

Chris sighed with relief, then looked at the older woman and asked, "Do you want me to put some more water on for that poultice?"

Nettie nodded and finished bathing Vin.

Continue