Late that same night
The tracker's fever peaked in the midst of a delirium. Tanner cried out, speaking rapidly in a language none of them recognized.
"Kiowa or Comanche," Chris said softly as he held Vin's head, trying to keep him still so he didn't do any damage to himself. Nathan was afraid the tracker might end up breaking one of his cracked ribs, driving the bone into an already stressed lung, killing him.
All of the peacekeepers were there, doing whatever they could to help the injured man. JD and Buck fetched buckets of fresh water. Josiah and Nathan dipped towels into the cool liquid, wringing them out and draping them over Vin's body, trying to bring his fever down. Ezra held the tracker's feet, Chris his head, and Nettie kept his free hand occupied, holding it in her lap. The other was secured by a towel that had been wrapped around his wrist and tied to the bedpost.
As the fever built to a peak, Vin began to mutter softly, a few coherent words or phrases escaping his lips, and all of them revealing the suffering and loss the tracker had experienced over the course of his short life.
They each comforted the man as best they could, but nothing seemed to reach past the haze the fever created – nothing except for Nettie's voice and Larabee's touch. So the older woman continued to speak softly to him and Chris tried to soothe him, but Vin still slipped back into the dark dreams that haunted him in the netherworld he found himself lost in.* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Vin moved through a shadowy world of pain and fear. He wasn't sure where he was, but he knew he didn't want to stay here any longer than he had to.
His chest burned with an unending ache that drained him and he could hear himself coughing, gagging on the thick phlegm, but he could no longer feel the tearing shards of pure agony that the action usually provoked.
It was still hard for him to breathe, but not as hard as it had been before, although he wasn't sure when "before" was.
He could hear voices drifting out beyond the shadows, could feel hands touching his body, taking care of him, and he felt shame that he was too weak to tend to his needs himself, especially the more personal ones. He should be able to take care of himself, but he had no control over his body at the moment, and no idea how to take control back from whatever had drawn him to this place.
Strong odors assailed his senses, making his nose and throat burn. He wanted to gag, but was afraid it might leave him retching again. So he pulled back farther into the shadows and hunkered down, waiting.
But the waiting wore on him and, eventually, he ventured out again, determined to do something, even if he had no idea what that might be. He didn't like this place. He wanted to go home.
Home, he thought. I have t' find a way home.
He hadn't had a real home since he had been taken from his Kiowa family. Not until he had met Larabee and the other regulators. He wanted to return to Four Corners. He wanted to be with his friends, his chosen family there. But how?
How could he get back to Chris? He wanted to be with Chris. He felt good, loved, safe when he was with Chris. He wanted to touch the man, love him, take him…
He struggled, trying to find a way out of the nightmare he seemed to be trapped in, but nothing he did seemed to help.
Then he heard her.
"Easy, son, yer goin' ta be jus' fine… ya just have ta fight this fever off… I know ya can beat this. Yer strong, Vin, always have been. Yer a Tanner. Ya remember that. And a Tanner never quits. Never."
Mama? he called, looking around at the grey-black landscape for her. Then he saw something – a light, moving closer. And before he really understood, she was standing in the distance, looking just like he remembered her – young, strong, vibrant. Long dark-blonde hair fell around her shoulders and her blue eyes regarded him with motherly pride and affection.
"I love ya, Vin," she said, although her lips never moved. "I love ya so much."
I love y' too, Mama.
"Ya have ta fight this, Vin. Ya cain't give up. Not now, not ever. Promise me."
I give ya m' word, Mama.
"Yer friends are doin' all they c'n ta help ya. Miss Nettie, too. Ya just got ta keep fightin', Vin. Fight hard."
I'll fight, Mama. I give y' m' word… I miss y', Mama. I miss y' so much m' heart wants t' burst some days.
She smiled at him. "I know, Vin. I know. I c'n hear ya."
I love y', Ma.
"I love you, too," she told him, then slowly faded from sight.
And, suddenly, Vin was no longer in the shadow lands. He was back in the mine shaft, trapped under the beam, cold water rushing into his lungs, drowning him.
"No!" he cried, fighting for all he was worth. "No!"* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Vin came awake with an anguished cry and curled in on himself, coughing and gagging uncontrollably until he was retching. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't stop coughing, or vomiting. He hurt, everywhere. And, in that moment, he just wanted it to end. Eventually, it did, and he was finally able to lie back while the others cleaned him and the bed up. It was a little easier to breathe, he realized, but he left his eyes closed and continued panting.
A cool cloth wiped his face. The touch shocked Tanner awake and a small moan escaped him before he had enough sense to suppress it.
"Where're we?" he mumbled, his blurry gaze catching Larabee's eyes.
Chris gently wiped the tracker's brow again. "We're in Four Corners, in the clinic. You're safe," he responded. "Tosi's safe, too. The others got us out of the shaft."
Vin flinched and tried to move away when Nathan began checking his leg.
"Easy, easy," Chris told him. "Let Nathan take a look at that. You have a good-sized gash in your leg and it's infected."
Vin lifted his head as best he could to look down at the healer, watching for a moment while the man worked. Then he let his head drop back against his pillows.
"You want some water, son?"
Vin rolled his head and met Nettie's concerned gaze. He smiled weakly and nodded.
Chris met Nathan's eyes, asking silently if the tracker was over the worst. The healer only offered a shrug, unsure if it was over, or if this was just a temporary respite.
The next day
Vin pulled himself awake, but his head was spinning, making him squint against the meager light that was sneaking into the room from behind the closed curtains. He had been sick on and off for the last hour, losing whatever he had been able to eat or drink before that. He was weak and shaky, and in pain. The throb in his ribs flared painfully with any movement. He thought sleep would allow him to heal, but he only seemed to be getting worse, even though he was able to breathe easier now.
Other than crawling out of bed to relieve himself, he had no strength whatsoever.
"Here," said a soft voice, interrupting his dazed thoughts. A woman's voice. Nettie's voice. "I've brought you a fresh pillow, son."
Vin struggled forward. His ribs and stomach complaining mightily, but he gritted his teeth and pushed himself up. A small hand slid in under his head to steady it. He felt the cool, smooth pillow slide in behind him and he settled back against it. Its freshness was soothing, as were the older woman's ministrations.
"Thank ya, Nettie," he murmured.
His voice was so scratchy it could barely be heard and she felt a jolt of fear shake her. Vin was rapidly weakening under the fever, which would only break for an hour or two, then return with ferocity, sapping his strength. Nettie and the others had thought he would be better by now, but the stubborn fever refused to let him go.
She patted his shoulder. He was young enough to be her son, and she sometimes wished that he was. But he was so sick, so weak, she was deathly afraid she might lose him before she had the chance to tell him how she felt about him. And she refused to do it now, certain that he would think she knew he was dying if she did. She turned away to leave, to let him rest, but his fingers closed over hers, drawing her back.
"Please," he said on a light airy breath, "stay fer a little while… please." His hand was warm and damp and she squeezed it.
"Ya need ta rest, Vin," she replied. "You're goin' ta beat this, I know ya are."
His eyes were dark and pleading. "'M scared, Nettie."
"Well, don't ya be. Yer woolly t' the bone, Vin Tanner. Ain't no fever goin' ta beat ya unless ya let it. So, don't ya let it, y'hear?"
He smiled weakly at her, his eyes dropping closed again. Was it that easy? Did he just have to decide to live? God knew wanted to. For Nettie… for Chris… and for himself. He finally felt whole again. He didn't want to lose that now, not so soon after he'd found it.
The next day
Chris didn't turn around; he didn't need to. The scene remained unchanged from the day before. He ran a trembling hand over his hair. "He hasn't kept anything down for two days, Nathan. And he's out of his head…" It was the closest he'd come to admitting his real fear, and the healer knew it.
Jackson nodded. "I'm using Nettie's poultice, herbs from the Seminole village, a tea Josiah rode out to get from Ko-Je's people, and a half-dozen things that Ming gave me. It's all we can do, Chris. It's up t' Vin now. Maybe when that medicine gets here…"
Buck placed a hand on his friend's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "He's tough, Chris. He'll make it."
"I hope you're right," Larabee replied, scrubbing his hand over his face, his eyes beginning to sting.
"Me, too," the ladies' man agreed. He offered Chris a small smile. "Hell, pard, I've gotten used t' havin' him around."
Larabee nodded. "Me, too," he whispered. "Me, too."
Later that day
The shiver shook Vin awake. Someone was sitting near him, a figure – dark, unrecognizable shape. He winced at the cool hand on his cheek. His skin hurt, but it also felt like it was on fire.
"Chris…" he managed with a thick, heavy tongue. He tried to rise up, but his neck couldn't support the weight of his head, or his arms his body weight. His joints ached painfully and it felt like someone had set fire to his head and chest.
"Easy, Vin, easy," returned a soft voice. "Don't try to move."
"Y' kept yer word, Cowboy," he said, his words slurring together.
Larabee shushed him, his hands holding the tracker down. "I almost killed you, if that's what you mean," he replied. "No, lay still and rest, please. I'll go get Nathan."
Trembling, Chris turned away. He feared the infection and the fever had gotten too far, that Tanner's time was finally up. Had Vin sensed it, too? The younger man’s agitation made him think maybe he had.
Tanner hadn't eaten for a couple of days, and the fever refused to break for good. God, he sighed silently, did it have it end like this? Too many people in his life had already died. He didn't think he could bear losing another one; knew he couldn't. He was watching his soul die right along with the man who had saved him.
"Chris," Tanner called.
The gunslinger shivered and turned back. There it was again – the sound of his name, like a prayer slipping off Tanner's lips. "Yeah?"
"Ain't gave up yet."
"Good," Larabee replied thickly, wondering how long Vin could last.
"Ain't sure… I c'n beat this."
"You damned well better," he choked out, his throat tightening.
"If I don't… I want y' t' collect that bounty."
"I'm going to go get Nathan," Chris said quickly. "You just lay still and rest."
"Chris… please… 's all I got t' give ya."
"I don't want it!" Larabee shouted, but Vin stared up at him, blue eyes pleading. "Hell, Vin, I can't."
"Yeah, y' c'n. Y' have t'. Y' have t' use it, t' look out fer Nettie, an' yerself."
"Vin…"
"Please, Chris."
Larabee sucked in a breath, the tears blurring his vision. He nodded. "All right."
The same peace that Chris had seen come over Vin in the mine shaft, after he agreed that he wouldn't allow him to drown, settled on the tracker now. He was at peace, knowing Chris would do as he'd asked. And how could he say no?
That night
Chris held Vin as the tracker retched, tormented by the shudders coursing through the tracker's body. Tanner had kept nothing down all day, and yet he was still sick. The gunslinger held him carefully over his arm, mindful of the man's bruised ribs. He was afraid to put his arms around the tracker, knowing every movement caused Vin pain, but he seemed to need Chris' strength right now.
But how long could Vin endure this torture? He was gasping for breaths, his face grey and lined, his body contorted with the spasms that shook him.
"Easy, now, easy, Vin," Chris told him softly as Tanner finally quieted. "Let's get you a little more comfortable. Easy, now, I'm going to lay you down." Slowly he pressed his friend into the pillows, his strong hand supporting Tanner's lolling head.
Vin whimpered as he was jostled and the small sound pierced Larabee's heart. Other than crying out when he'd first thrown up, Tanner hadn't made any sounds at all. How long could it take – hours, another day? And why? All they'd done was try to help save a child, and this was the thanks they got?
"Chris…" Somehow, Tanner was still lucid, despite his pain and fever. He reached out for Larabee, caught his hand, giving it a weak squeeze with burning fingers.
"I'm here, Vin. I won't let go."
Chris had thought his presence would calm Vin, but the tracker was determined to fight. At least he still had some fight left in him, the gunslinger thought. But he should have been using it to defeat the fever, not ramble on over promises that Larabee didn't want to keep.
"Chris," he breathed hoarsely, struggling to get into a better position to see his friend, "listen t' me."
"No, damn it, you listen to me, Vin," Chris declared, coming at him again with the cloth. The fever was raging and it dried the wet rag almost as soon as Chris laid it across Tanner's forehead. The curly ends of his hair were dark and damp. "Lie still and rest."
"If I don't… if I don't–"
"No!" Larabee declared quickly, wringing out the cloth again. The action was useless, but he was too full of fear to sit still. "You're going to get through this, Vin. You are."
"If I don't," Tanner insisted, his eyes dark and turbulent with pain. He clutched the blond's arm, the grip surprisingly tight. "Promise me somethin', Chris."
"What's that?" Larabee asked, wishing he didn't sound quite so timid.
The tracker swallowed back a bite of pain. "Promise me ya'll get m' bounty… 'n' use some 'a that money t' try 'n' clear m' name… Use the rest t' help Ko-Je's people, 'n' the folks out at the Seminole village… Fix up yer place some, too… 'n' Netties'… There be 'nough fer all that?"
"Aw, Vin…" Larabee tried to pull away, but the tracker hung on to his arm.
"Give me yer word, Chris," Vin commanded in a voice that dried to a whisper. "Don't let m' life go t' waste. Fergit m' name, jist help the rest."
"Your life's not a waste, Vin," Chris said. "Don't you ever think it is." He reached over to loosen the fingers curled around his wrist. "You've done a helluva lot of good here."
"Give me yer word, Cowboy… please." The tracker tugged on Larabee's shirtfront and rose up a little.
"Lie down, damn it," the gunslinger snapped back.
"Do it."
"Vin…"
"Promise me," Tanner insisted.
Chris dropped back in close, his forehead pressed to his friend's. "You're going to get through this, you hear me?" he responded emphatically. "You've fought this thing this far, you just have to keep going for a little while longer. Just like back in that mine shaft, Vin. You kept fighting, and so did I, and we got you out of there. Now you have to get yourself out of this one." Chris wanted to believe everything he was saying. He needed to believe it. He couldn't let Tanner give up.
"Don't argue, damn it," Vin got out with visible irritation.
"And don't you argue with me," Larabee returned.
"Damn it, Chris," Vin insisted. "'M likely dyin'–"
"You're not dying!" Larabee shouted. He caught Nathan's eye from where he paced in the room, his worry obvious by his stance. The gunslinger immediately dropped his voice. "You're going to be all right."
"Damn y', Lar'bee, say it!" Vin growled with unexpected energy. He sat up and curled his hand into a fist.
Chris saw the clumsy blow coming and easily dodged it, but the swing pitched Vin forward and he collapsed across the bed with a sob and a groan. Larabee swore softly, his eyes blurry with tears. The tracker hurt so much, and it was impossibly painful to see him like this.
The gunman crowded onto the bed. Gently, he got his arms around Tanner again, lifted him up and moved him back against the pillows. Tanner's back was taut and quaking, his face white, his eyes quickly losing focus.
"Chris, please," he pleaded weakly, swallowing his nausea as Larabee cradled his head and adjusted the pillows beneath him. "Cain't beg no more."
"All right, damn it, all right!" Chris snapped. He sat back, the lump in his throat nearly choking off his words. "If it'll shut you up, I'll do it."
"Ya promise?"
Chris sighed shakily. "I promise, Vin, just like I promised ya in that damned mine," he answered, his voice cracking. He laid a hand on the tracker's burning cheek and Vin flashed him a brief, weak smile. "No more talking now," he whispered to the tracker, stroking the heated skin. "You need to rest."
Damn it, you trapped me, he thought sadly, then lifted his eyes and added. Please, God, don't make me see it through.
The following morning
Buck's heart went out to the blond man in the clinic. Larabee sat by Tanner's bedside, his elbows on his knees, his face buried in his hands. He looked like he'd begun a deathwatch, and when Chris heaved a huge sigh the ladies' man could have sworn Larabee had sobbed.
Lying in the bed, Vin looked like he was already gone. He breathed raggedly, his face was as white as the sheets, his lips slightly blue, cracked and dry, and the leg wound was red and wet with something. Silently, Nathan brushed past him and headed for his patient.
Chris jerked at the hand on his shoulder and raised his aching head. He came to his feet when he saw Nathan standing over him. "Ya need to rest, Chris. I'll wake ya in a couple 'a hours."
Larabee looked from the healer to Tanner and shook his head.
"Y' heard 'im," Vin rasped softly. "Go get some sleep, Chris. Ain't goin' nowhere."
Chris hesitated a moment, then asked desperately, "Promise?"
"Give y' m' word," the tracker said.
Several hours later
Chris jerked awake, looking up into Josiah's smoky grey-blue eyes. "Vin?" he asked, his voice tight with fear.
The preacher nodded, but he was smiling. "The medicine Nathan sent for arrived. Brother Vin's awake and asking for you."
Larabee swung out of the healer's bed and brushed past the blanket.
Nathan nodded with satisfaction and pulled the cup away from Vin's cracked lips. The tracker had struggled to swallow the tiny amount of medicine the healer had trickled down his throat, but the potent morphine compound had slid down with no further trouble after the first sip. Already Tanner's breathing was quieter.
"He's dehydrated," Jackson told the others as they gathered around, looking haggard and worried. "We've got to get some liquids into him, even if it's only a teaspoon or two every hour. This medicine should quiet him 'til that damned fever finally breaks fo' good."
"He's had a fever for nine days," Ezra put in softly. "When will it end?"
Nathan was acutely aware that the others were all scrutinizing his actions. Having an audience didn't usually disturb him – there weren't many who'd let a Negro doctor someone without keeping a sharp eye on him and what he was doing – but their collective concern made him work with slow and deliberate care. They all so obviously cared for Vin, just like he did, and they were hanging on his every word and action, looking for something to give them a little hope. And now, finally, Jackson felt like he could give them something.
Nathan turned his attention and gentle hands to the tracker's leg wound. Although drugged, Tanner still involuntarily stiffened and shifted, his free hand clutching at the sheet that covered the rest of him. His eyes fluttered open, glassy and unseeing. The healer murmured some soothing words of comfort, and continued his examination.
As he dried the reddened wound with a clean towel, he said, "The infection's drawn out good. It's all but gone now. He just needs some food to break the fever, then these stitches can come out." He pulled the sheet down and his hands slid along the tracker's ribs to examine the injured bones there. The swelling was down. The younger man would be stiff and sore for a few more days, but he was healing. And his lungs sounded much clearer, the regular application of Nettie's poultice keeping the congestion at a manageable level.
Now they just had to build up his strength in order to nurse him back to health. Vin wasn't out of danger, but he was getting closer. And he still had some fight left. He just had to get some food and water into him to regain more of the strength he'd lost. The fever had taken a heavy toll on the tracker, but Jackson thought if it broke in the next day or two, Tanner had a good chance for a full recovery, and he told the others exactly that. They erupted with hoots and hugs.
Chris didn't hear the instructions Nathan gave each of the others, emotion creeping back over him, a mixture of exhaustion and gratitude, and it left him with a bad case of the shakes. He walked over and sat down next to Vin, his hand on the tracker's tightening. This was the beginning of renewed hope for the gunslinger. His faith in the stubborn tracker's strength and will had failed him, but its return felt like the loosening of a tremendous weight from around his neck.
"You can do this, Vin," he said softly. "You can beat this, and we're going to be here for you every step of the way. You hear me? We aren't going to let you walk this alone."
Later that day
It was like waking from an endless dream.
As Vin labored to rise to full consciousness, his senses began to assault him. Vainly he tried to put them into some kind of order and settle them back where they belonged, but they were slippery, uncooperative.
He struggled to move, but his body didn't respond any better than his thoughts.
Next, he made an agonizing attempt to open his eyes. Finally, his lids cracked apart. Streaks of white light poured through the narrow slits and he grunted in pain, but forced them to stay open.
Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the brightness and his vision cleared. He was in a room, but where? There was a bed under him, a bed with fresh-smelling blankets covering him. And then the pain began to interrupt his wandering thoughts, a dull ache spreading through his leg and chest as his head pounded in time to his heartbeat.
He heard rustling sounds and turned his head slowly, afraid of souring his stomach and touching off another bout of retching, something he did remember – too clearly.
A cool, wet cloth greeted his cheek and he stopped moving. He looked and Nettie's face slowly appeared above him.
Her hand was soft, her touch feather-light on his skin. Tanner found the concern and affection in the old woman's eyes too much to bear and glanced away, blushing. His thoughts grew drunk on the knowledge that he had family now – people who really loved and cared about him.
And then he remembered – the mine shaft, the ride back to town in Josiah's arms, the endless days in the clinic, each of the others helping him, caring for him. They had tackled his every need, and done it willingly, with concern for his welfare. They had kept him alive, especially Chris, who had been there almost every time he had woken.
He flinched slightly when Nettie came too close to his injured ribs and she paused. "Ya awake, son?"
"If I ain't, this dream's a damned sight better 'n the rest I's havin'," he replied.
Nettie smiled. "We think the fever's finally broke fer good," she told him quietly, smoothing back the dark, damp ringlets of hair that had crept over his temple.
Her stare made Vin uncomfortable and he fumbled with the sheet. She did the same with the cloth in the basin, catching it not once but twice as it slipped from her wet fingers.
Then she gave him a reassuring smile. "We've been worried about ya," she said. "How do ya feel?"
"How long…?" he asked in a rough whisper, his tongue sluggish against his coated teeth.
"You've been sick fer over a week," she told him. "Nine days, in fact."
That long? Vin shifted, then shivered with the chill that followed. Nettie responded by pulling the covers up over him.
"Chris…" he began.
"He'll be back soon, don't ya worry 'bout Mr. Larabee. And he'll be glad ta see yer awake, too," she smiled.
He touched her arm, not quite believing she was real. The old woman's gaze followed his action. "Don't remember much," Vin admitted, fatigue wearing him down again. He closed his eyes briefly. "M' chest hurts." He let go of her and reached up to touch the source of his pain.
She pulled his hand back. "Don't," she cautioned, "ya have some cracked ribs."
He nodded, an itch on his leg drawing his attention away. He reached for that instead.
"No," she cautioned a second time, "the stitches are still there. Nathan might be able ta take those out tomorrow, if yer feelin' up to it."
Tanner slowly became aware of his unkempt appearance. Days spent lying sick and delirious in bed would certainly have affected his looks. Stitches in his leg? Beyond a doubt he needed a bath and a shave – he could probably use a week of soaking in a bath to get the sweat off. He didn't know why he should care at this point, but he did. Self-conscious, he sank back against the mattress and plucked at the blankets, pulling them up to his chin. He averted his eyes, and felt a flush spread across his cheeks. How much had she seen of him? And where the hell was Nathan? He ought to be doing this, not her.
She chuckled. "Hell, son, ain't nothin' I haven't seen before."
He groaned.
Nettie leaned over and took his face in her hands, rolling his head back so he was looking at her. "Didn't think I was goin' ta get the chance ta tell ya this, Vin Tanner, so ya listen an' ya listen well. Yer a damned fine man, an' I'd've been proud ta call ya m' son, if I'd been blessed ta bring ya inta this world."
His face went red and tears welled in his eyes. He nodded. "Would've been proud t' call ya m' ma, too, Nettie."
She smiled and sniffed. "Well, then ya listen ta this old biddy an' do like I tell ya. I'm goin' ta make ya some tea an' heat up some broth, an' yer goin' ta take both."
"Ah hell, Nettie, I'll just end up with m' head over a basin if'n I do."
"Maybe, but ya need ta build yer strength, an' that's the only way ya can do it. So yer goin' ta try, y'hear?"
"Yes, ma'am," he replied.
A short while later
That evening Larabee stood over his friend for moment, grateful to be able to see the man free of the ravaging fever. He leaned over and gently placed his hand on the tracker's forehead.
Vin was cool, the fever gone, just like Nettie and Nathan had said. That was a relief, although Tanner was still horribly pale and thin. Damn, it had been a tough few days, but Vin was alive and on the mend at long last. The crisis was finally past.
The tracker stirred under the tender touch and opened his eyes. "Hey," he greeted weakly, managing a grin for Larabee.
"Hey, yourself," Chris said, returning the grin. "You look like hell, Cowboy, but never better. I'm damned glad to have you back with us."
"Don't remember…" Vin frowned.
"You will. Give it time. Beside, some things are best forgotten anyway."
"No, I mean, I don't remember leavin'."
Chris sat down on the edge of the bed. "You didn't leave, the fever just took you a little farther away from us than I wanted."
Vin nodded. "The dreams… they's so damn real…"
Larabee nodded. "Fever dreams."
"I saw m' ma."
"I'm not surprised."
Vin blinked owlishly and looked up, meeting Chris' eyes. "She said she could hear me when I thought 'bout her, Chris." He smiled weakly. "'M glad t' know it. I'll think 'bout her more…" He paused, then added, "Guess that means Sarah c'n hear y' too."
Larabee jerked slightly, but the idea was strangely comforting. If she knew how much he'd loved her, how much he still loved her, well, that was just fine by him. "Guess maybe she can," he said.
The two men fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, then both started talking at the same time.
They both stopped and Chris asked, "You need something?"
"Jist wanted t' thank ya fer what ya did back in that shaft."
Larabee shook with the chill that snaked down his back. "I didn't do anything, Vin… I almost couldn't do anything."
"But y' did," Vin said. "I saw ya. Y' wouldn't 'a let me drown."
"You almost did."
"Y' waited long 'nough fer me t' get free, not so long I drowned. Seems t' me that's perfect timin'."
Chris snorted and shook his head. Tanner logic. "I'm just glad things worked out… and I didn't have to collect that damned bounty. I swear, Vin, we're going to have to do something about that. I don't want you holding that over me like you did this time."
The tracker smiled. "What d'ya have in mind?"
"I say we ride to Tascosa and set the facts straight. There's got to be someone who'll listen, someone who knows what kind of man Eli Joe was."
Vin thought for a moment. "Maybe, but fer right now, think I'll just stay right here 'n' heal up. If y' don't mind. Ain't ready t' put m' neck in the noose again jist yet."
Larabee nodded his understanding. There would be time to clear the tracker's name. Time… that was a good word.
"Yer a helluva friend, Chris," Vin added softly. "Jist want y' t' know I appreciate it. Means a helluva lot t' me."
"Likewise," Chris replied.
And they fell back into the same comfortable silence they usually shared for a short while, then Tanner asked, "Y' think y' c'n help me get a bath?"
Larabee smiled. "Yeah, I can do that."
A few hours later
It wasn't what Vin had expected but it still felt wonderful. He sank lower into the tub that had been brought up to the clinic and filled with hot water, letting the heat work its healing magic on his tired, weak muscles. His eyes closed and he sighed softly.
"Feel good?" Chris asked him, grinning at the expression on Tanner's face.
"Mmm," was all the tracker said.
"I told the others to go find something else to do for a while," Larabee added, walking over to the tub and sitting down on a small stool. In his hand he had a bar of Ezra's fancy soap, offered by the gambler earlier, and a cloth. He dipped the cloth into the hot water, then worked up some lather on it and began to scrub Tanner's arm, washing away the dirt, sweat and blood.
Blue eyes opened and Vin looked at him. "Feels good," he said softly.
"Good," Larabee breathed, just grateful that he had the opportunity to do this. He continued, washing Tanner's other arm and his back. Vin rinsed himself off, then lifted his legs out of the water to let Chris wash those as well, which he did, being careful to avoid the still-healing gash.
The tracker's chest was next and Vin moaned softly when the rough, soapy cloth passed over his nipples, making them hard. The sound made Chris' hand shake, but he forced himself to continue, scrubbing the tracker clean.
Vin took the cloth and washed his face when Larabee was done. Than Chris shaved him while Vin rested in the tub. And when he was done, Larabee washed the tracker's hair, enjoying the feeling of having his fingers in Tanner's soapy hair. When he was finished, Vin looked much better than he had in many days. He was still pale and shaky, but some color had started to return to his face and he was clean again.
Chris bound Vin's leg wound, then handed him his clothes, which were also clean.
The tracker dressed, then sat down to recover from all the activity, accepting a cup of tea from the gunslinger. A knock on the door sounded and a moment later Nathan came in. He checked Vin over, then smiled. "Yo'r doin' real good, Vin."
Tanner looked up. "When c'n I get out 'a here?"
Nathan frowned. "Well, I don't want ya out in that wagon o' yo'rs."
"What if I take him out to the cabin?" Chris asked the healer.
Jackson thought for a moment. Then he nodded. "Let's see how he does today. If he's all right, you can take him out tomorrow – in a wagon."
"Aw hell, Nate, I c'n ride."
"Not yet. I want you to wait fo' another couple of days befo' you get back on that monster you call a horse."
Tanner nodded. Given how weak he felt after a bath, he knew Jackson was right. He didn't like it, but he wasn't going to do anything to make himself sick again either.
The following evening
The two men sat on Larabee's porch, watching as the sun slowly set. The sky was painted in shades of orange, pink, and purple, broken up with large puffy clouds. Birds sang their last songs of the day while crickets began their nightly chorus. Both men basked in the peaceful moment.
It was the tracker who spoke first. "Chris, 'm sorry."
Larabee glanced over, frowning. "Sorry? About what?"
There was a long pause, then Vin said, "What I asked y' t' do in the mine… an' if I died… weren't fair."
"How do you figure?" Chris asked, his throat already tightening.
Tanner leaned back against one of the support beams holding up the porch overhang, drew a deep breath, and then said softly, "I's thinkin' we's jis friends… but we ain't been that fer a while now… 'n' me askin' what I done… Weren't fair t' ya. An' I never meant t' ask too much from y', Chris."
Larabee stood from the chair he was sitting in and walked over to the tracker, sitting down next to him. "It wasn't too much."
Vin looked out at the land and said, "Yeah, it was." He reached out and rested his hand on the blond's shoulder, giving it a tender squeeze. "Never want t' hurt y', Chris, y' know that, don't ya?"
Larabee nodded. He did know, just like he knew he'd never want to hurt Vin. "There's a difference, you know," he said, his voice a little thick with the emotion that made his chest tight.
Vin looked confused.
"A difference between asking for something hard, and hurting someone. What you were asking was hard… maybe the hardest thing I've faced."
"Y' already faced that, Chris… when y' lost yer wife and son."
Larabee nodded. "Yeah. But the thought of losing you, like that… Hell, Vin that was just as hard."
Tanner looked away again. "I's just scared," he said softly. "Seen a man drown once… saw the fear in his eyes… guess I's jist a coward, not wantin' t' face that."
"No, Vin, you're not a coward. You asked for mercy, and I agreed to give it to you."
"But it weren't no mercy fer you," Tanner said, his head dipping. "I had time t' think 'bout it when I's layin' there in the clinic. Thought 'bout what I'd've done if ya'd asked me t' do the same."
"Vin–"
"Let me say m' piece," Tanner interrupted.
Larabee nodded.
"If'n it been you askin'… ain't sure I coulda done what y' did… I'd 'a said I would, but ain't sure I woulda… woulda hurt too much t' lose ya… Think I woulda jist curled up an' died."
"No, you wouldn't," Chris said quietly. "Not sayin' you wouldn't feel like you wanted to, Vin," he added when the tracker shot him a look, "but it wouldn't have happened. I know. Felt like that myself… 'til the day I saw you with a rifle in your hands, ready to face a bunch of drunken cowboys to save an innocent man's life. I'd been dyin' a little every day since Sarah died… 'til then. Then I started livin' a little bit each day instead."
"Jist feel bad 'bout askin' y' t' do more 'n I ought."
Chris met the tracker's gaze and held it, saying, "Wasn't more that you should, Vin. You asked for what you needed… and I did my best to give it to you, would've… because of how I feel. You would've done the same."
"Hope yer right."
"I am."
Tanner snorted softly. "Reckon it's easier t' be the one doin' the dyin'."
"Yeah, maybe so," Chris agreed. "But you didn't die."
"Still, ain't goin' t' fergit this… anything happens again."
"Damn well better not be 'again,'" Larabee growled. "I'm getting too old t' save your scrawny ass."
Tanner rolled his eyes. "Yer jist gettin' lazy."
Chris sighed loudly. "I think it's time you got some sleep, Tanner. You're sounding like you have a fever again."
Vin pushed to his feet and waited until Chris did the same. They walked into the cabin, the tracker saying, "Only fever I got now ain't got a cure. Ain't goin' t' git over it neither."
Three weeks later, the Seminole village
The Seven sat on blankets under the hillside ledge, just in case it rained. Vin leaned back against the hillside, looking content as he watched the villagers and his friends. He was still a little pale and gaunt, and he tired much easier than usual, but he was slowly rebuilding his strength.
The chief had asked them to return once Vin was able to travel and the tracker had been looking forward to the trip, so Nathan had given it his blessing, which was all Chris had been waiting for.
They rode out slowly, their usual banter more subdued until JD said, "Hey, Ezra, I've been meanin' to ask you… How'd you know so much about mines? Were you a miner?"
The gambler snorted and nearly choked. "Me, a miner? My good sheriff, a gentleman would never stoop so low as to engage in the tedious, back-breaking labor of mining."
"Well, how'd ya know then?" JD pressed, honestly curious.
Standish looked like he might ignore the question, but Vin said softly, "Buck told me how ya figured ya might get t' us from the top of that hill. Guess ya saved m' life. Jist want ya t' know that means something t' me."
As your life means something precious to me, my friend, Ezra wanted to say, but he opted for, "A fortuitous happenstance, Mr. Tanner, I assure you. Nothing more."
The tracker shrugged, but his blue eyes met the gambler's green and Ezra knew Tanner hadn't bought a word of it.
Ezra cleared his throat and said as lightly as he could, "I once had the dubious honor of winning a gold mine from a man in a poker game… Let's just say that he presented the property's value in such a way that my expectations far exceeded the facts."
"Ya want t' try that again, Ez – in the common man's tongue?" Tanner drawled.
"He told me that the mine was bringing in twenty-thousand a year, but he lied," the gambler stated simply.
Nathan chuckled. "Ya mean he conned you? You?"
Ezra's chest puffed out and his expression became indignant. "He did not con me, Mr. Jackson. He simply perpetrated a rather ingenious fraud."
"What happened to the mine?" JD asked the gambler.
Ezra sighed and said, "After I inspected my newly-acquired property, I knew I had to… sell it, to someone who understood the subtleties of gold mining better than I."
"You mean you found someone who knew less about it than you did," Josiah translated.
"You wound me. But let me just conclude by saying that while I was the registered owner of the Lucky Lucy, I learned more about mines than I ever would otherwise have chosen."
"Well, however ya learned it, 'm jist glad ya did," Vin said.
"Me, too," Chris added, shooting the gambler a grateful smile that warmed Ezra's heart.
"My pleasure, gentlemen," he replied with honesty sincerity.
And then the banter returned to its usual level for the remainder of the trip.
In the Seminole village, the women immediately took Vin under their care, escorting him to one of the blankets and making him comfortable. They fed him and handed him cups of water and fermented juices. He took everything they gave him, taking a bite or two, a sip, enjoying the tastes, but being careful not to overload his stomach, which was still tender.
Seeing that Vin was in good hands, the others found spots and joined in the feast, which was uninterrupted by storms this time.
Tosi sat next to Chris, looking up at the gunslinger, his big brown eyes full of awe and adulation. Larabee blushed and tousled the boy's hair, asking how he was doing.
"I'm fine," Tosi stated confidently. "But I am not allowed to play near the old mine any more," he added, sounding disappointed.
Buck looked across at the old chief and said, "I brought a couple 'a sticks of dynamite along with me. Thought we could seal that shaft for good."
The silver-haired man nodded. "That would be for the best, I think."
Tosi and his friends sighed heavily, knowing they would have to find a new place to play and find adventures.
Opa Locka slipped in next to Buck, saying, "I never told you how much I appreciated you saving my brother."
"Oh, well…" Buck started, then remembered what Nathan had told him about the young woman. "…you got it all wrong, darlin', it was Chris here, and Vin, who saved the boy."
The young woman frowned slightly, but she looked from Larabee to Tanner, nodding her thanks. Her gaze settled on the tracker and she studied the man for a long moment.
Vin noticed the scrutiny and dipped his head, blushing slightly. One of the older women noticed and scolded Opa Locka in her native tongue.
The chief watched the exchange and decided that any of the seven men would make good husbands, but he doubted any of them would be willing to give up their lives for the joys Opa Locka or one of the other unmarried women could offer them… Maybe next year.
But then, catching the glances Chris and Vin exchanged, he decided that at least those two men had already found everything they needed – in each other.
A week later
Chris thought he was dreaming, but he knew he wasn't. He and Vin had headed out from the Seminole village alone, the tracker needing some time away from town to finish healing.
They were camping along a shallow, slow-moving river. The banks were wide and sandy. Beyond the banks sandstone cliffs rose straight up into the sky, their layers and striations each a slightly different color. The cliff walls undulated, following the meandering course of the river, which had carved out a maze of passages. It was beautiful, serene and completely isolated.
The sun had only been up for a short while, but there were already fish cooking near the fire for breakfast. Vin was moving around their camp, totally naked, but that didn't seem to bother the tracker in the slightest. For his part, Larabee was wearing a breechclout Tanner had shown him how to fashion, and he still felt naked.
Larabee paused and watched the tracker. Tanner finally looked healthy again. His body and muscles had filled out, erasing the hollows that had been created by the fever. His skin had turned a soft honey color from being exposed to the sun, giving him a healthy glow. And his hair, recently trimmed so it fell at his shoulders, was a mix of golds and browns, and shone in the early morning sunlight. The limp was gone, too, the gash on his leg nothing more than a scar now.
Then, as if sensing Chris' gaze on him, Tanner stopped and looked up at him. He smiled and walked over to Larabee. "Fish is almost ready."
Chris started to reply, but Vin stepped closer, his hand coming up to cup the back of the blond's head and pull him in for a light kiss.
Larabee felt himself tremble. It had been almost two months since they had been together, and the feel of Tanner's lips brushing over his ignited a wildfire low in his belly. He'd been afraid to initiate anything while Vin had been healing, worried that the tracker might be too weak, that it might set his healing back by wearing him down. But Vin was healthy again and, looking down at the man's growing erection, more than ready to break a different fast.
Reaching up, Chris carded his fingers into the tracker's long hair and closed them around Tanner's neck. He pulled Vin in, deepening the kiss. Their lips ground together, tongues darting out to taste and tease. And when they both needed to catch their breaths, they parted, panting, blue and green eyes locked and full of longing.
"Those fish are going to burn, we keep this up," Chris warned him.
"Let 'em," Vin replied. "We c'n catch some more."
Larabee chuckled, his hand still on the back of Vin's neck. He pulled the tracker back in for another kiss and this time Tanner took a step closer, closing the distance between them. His hands came up, rubbing over Chris' shoulders and back as they continued to devour each others' mouths.
Then Vin reached down and took Chris' hand, leading him over to their bedrolls, which had been laid out on top of the sand, making for a comfortable bed. They lay down, side by side, holding one another and rejoining the kiss.
Larabee felt an indescribable thrill as his hands rubbed over Vin's body. The feel of the tracker's muscles, his strength that Chris had worried might be lost forever, were enough to make him moan. It had been so close. Too close. But he hadn't lost the man. Vin was alive and well and lying here in his arms.
And, suddenly, the love and desire he felt for the tracker overwhelmed him, making his eyes fill, tears escaping down his cheeks. He whimpered softly, need and relief making him shake.
Vin kissed and licked away the tears, his hands becoming gentle and soothing, stroking Chris until the trembling faded and the blond's breath evened out again. The tracker lifted himself up onto his elbow, looking down at Larabee. The emotions in the clear blue eyes were as easy to read as words on a page, and Chris quickly found himself lost in them. But it was a joyous surrender, one he reveled in.
Tanner dipped his head, kissing a trail across Larabee's forehead, then his cheeks. He ran the tip of his tongue along Chris' lower lip, then nibbled on it.
Chris moaned softly and tilted his head back.
Which gave Vin new territory to explore, and he took full advantage of it, kissing and licking along Larabee's throat. He sucked on the tender flesh, savoring the taste, then nudged the blond's earlobe, licking behind it, drawing it into his mouth and playing with it until Chris growled low in his throat.
Vin chuckled softly, the vibration like a sting that ran from Chris' ear straight to his groin. He was hard, so hard he hurt. But before he could launch an attack of his own, Tanner was on the move, inching down the gunman's body, touching, licking, sucking, kissing, driving Larabee to the edge.
But he didn't allow the man to fall off.
"Damn it, Vin, you're driving me mad!"
The chuckle returned, this time while Tanner's lips were pressed over one of Chris' hard nipples. Larabee groaned, louder this time, his hand straying from Tanner's back to the front of the cloth that trapped his throbbing cock.
Vin slapped his hand away, his fingers going to the knot that held the breechclout on his lover’s hips. It seemed to take forever for the tracker to untangle that knot, and Chris fidgeted, his butt mashing down on the bedroll. But then he felt the knot come loose, be pulled apart. Then the cloth was lifted up and he was freed, his cock jutting straight up, demanding attention.
But the tracker had his own agenda, and he ignored the straining pole, continuing on his own journey down Larabee's chest, after lengthy detours to the twin nubs, which were left rock hard and aching.
Chris' bellybutton was the tracker's next stop, tongue dipping into the crevice, swirling around.
"Oh, shit," Larabee gasped, not sure if the attack tickled or excited him. It was something of both. "Vin," he pleaded, his hand once again reaching for his aching member.
Only to be swatted away again.
"Vin," the blond growled, thrusting his hips up and trying to get the tracker to do what he wanted him to do.
"Hold yer damn horses," Tanner growled back.
And then the tracker was on the move again, shifting down, edging between Larabee's legs. He kissed and teased at the gunman's inner thighs, Larabee's legs falling open farther.
Then, at last, Chris felt Vin's nose bump against the blond's aching ball sac. A moment later, one of his balls was sucked into Tanner's hot mouth. The older man's back arched, his hips pressing up again. He groaned as Vin rolled his nut across his tongue, then tasted the second one.
Larabee began to pant, and his cock began to dribble. He was close, so damn close, but Tanner seemed determined to extend his suffering for as long as possible. Bastard.
"Vin," he moaned, "please." He hated begging, but he was going crazy, and every time he tried to help himself Tanner batted his hand away!
Chris went perfectly still when Tanner's fingers closed around his cock. But when nothing happened, he tried thrusting his hips, trying to force the friction he needed to carry him over the edge he'd been balancing on for so long. But the grip remained tight, stalling him yet again.
"No," he moaned.
Then Larabee froze again when Vin flicked his tongue over the tip of the weeping head. "Vin," Chris gasped.
Another lick, followed a moment later by a kiss that sucked at the flared head that had already turned deep red. And the lips didn't stop. They continued down, Tanner swallowing Chris, plunging him into the wet heat that stole his breath away. He gasped, his hips beginning to jerk, and this time Tanner did nothing to still him. Instead he sucked, his tongue rubbing along the sensitive underside.
Larabee cried out, feeling his release beginning, his hips driving harder. But Tanner never backed off, his saliva running down the rigid pole.
Chris felt the tracker's finger rub across his balls, then felt the pressure at his most intimate opening. A moment later the slicked digit pressed into Larabee, sinking deeper and deeper until Vin touched that magical spot inside his body, triggering an explosion of pleasure that hurled him off the edge.
He came with a cry, hips jerking wildly, trying to drive himself deeper into the tracker's throat and impale himself on the finger that was poking his pleasure spot. And as he came, Vin slurped and suckled, as if he were trying to empty Larabee's balls. And maybe he was. Chris couldn't remember emptying so much of his seed at one time, each drop consumed by the tracker like he was a starving man.
The waves of pleasure slowly faded, leaving Larabee's limbs too heavy to move. He sucked in gulps of air, feeling the rivulets of sweat running down his sides. And before he had caught his breath, Tanner was rolling him over and lifting his hips.
A moment later he felt the slick head of Tanner's cock pressing at his ass. The tracker eased himself in, painlessly, both men groaning.
Then, slowly but steadily, Vin pressed in deeper. And Chris could feel every inch that was filling him little by little. He could feel the veins, the tracker's pulse throbbing in them, every ridge and angle. If was as if he had lost some deeply needed part of himself and Vin was replacing it.
And, when Vin could go no farther, he paused, enjoying the feel of Chris' body sheathing him, protecting him, squeezing him. "Ya feel so good," he breathed.
"So do you," Larabee replied.
Vin reached out, running his hands down Chris' back, then over his hips. He pulled the blond's cheeks open, staring down at the intimate connection they were sharing and wondering if it looked the same when Larabee was buried inside of him. He hoped so. He was sure he'd never seen anything as special.
Then Vin's body began to take over, his hips staring to move, slowly at first, then faster and faster as his own demand for release could no longer be ignored or delayed.
He watched as he drew out and plunged back in, then closed his eyes, reveling in the tight heat that he imagined he could tumble into, losing himself forever in Larabee's soul.
His hands shifted, gripping Chris' hips as his pounded frantically into the man. He could hear Chris grunting under him, knew he was pulling on his cock, swelled once again as he rode over the man's gland again and again. But he couldn't hold the awareness, his thoughts shattering as he felt the first stringy rope of semen burst free, branding Larabee from the inside. And then he was tumbling through the tumult of his climax, his body shaking uncontrollably, his voice crying out, a primal sound that echoed in the serpentine canyons.
He fell, forever, it seemed, but then awareness began to return. He was slumped over Larabee's back, gasping, trembling, his cock still pouring out his seed in large dollops, some of it escaping, trickling down onto Chris' balls, then dripping onto the bedroll. He knew he couldn't move, still caught in the paralysis of fading pleasure as his cock slowly softened.
Finally, it slipped free of Larabee's body and they both whimpered at the loss.
Somehow they moved, lying down on the bedroll, ignoring the wetness, arms and legs tangling, neither man sure where he left off and the other began. They kissed, murmuring thoughts and feeling that would never be spoken aloud at any other time. And they fell asleep, content and whole at last.
A couple of hours later
Chris awoke and stretched. Then he sniffed. Food… and coffee. He sighed happily.
"'Bout time ya woke up, old man."
Chris peered up at Vin and frowned. "Who you callin' old?" Tanner grinned at him, and the blond was sure he'd never seen a more beautiful sight. "Well?"
"Hell, Lar'bee, 'm callin' you old. Been sleepin' away the whole day."
"And whose fault is that?"
"Gettin' old, Cowboy."
Larabee sighed and climbed to his feet, letting the enticing aromas guide him to the small campfire. He'd bathe after he ate.
The two men sat down, and ate, then poured themselves coffee and drank that. The sun was climbing higher into the sky, the heat rising as well.
Chris looked over at Vin and said, "I'm going to go wash. You want to come?"
Tanner nodded. "Found a nice deep spot upstream a little ways. Figger it'll make a good swimmin' hole."
Larabee nodded, feeling truly relaxed and happy again. He drank in the sight of the naked man in front of him, wondering if he would ever tire of Vin's companionship, and knowing at the same time he never would. Josiah often said that the ways of the Lord were mysterious, and he found himself agreeing. Finding love a second time was nothing less than a miracle as far as he was concerned. And he raised a silent prayer of thanks to God as he stood and followed after Vin, already planning how they would spend the rest of the day.
Author's Note: This story first appeared in the Mag 7 zine, Seven Card Stud #6, published by Neon RainBow Press, Cinda Gillilan and Jody Norman, editors. When we all decided to post the stories that have appeared in the issues of Seven Card Stud that are more than two years old, we opted to use a generic pen name because, while Lorin Zane is the primary author of this story, she had so much help from the other folks writing for the press that it just made sense to consider the story to be written by the Neon RainBow Press Collective! Resistance was futile. So, thanks to the whole Neon Gang – Sierra Chaves, Michelle Fortado, Patricia Grace, Erica Michaels, Nina Talbot, Kasey Tucker, and Lorin and Mary Fallon Zane. Story lasted edited 12-12-2005. Art by Shiloh (shigal13@excite.com)