It's been rainin' all damn day. I'm soaked to the bone and Vin looks like he's in even worse shape. Then there's the driving wind. Which means it's not only wet, it's fuckin' cold. We haven't found anything in the way of shelter worth stopping for yet, either. So we keep goin'. Not much else we can do. But it's gonna be nightfall soon. The temperature is already startin' to drop. If we can't find somethin' before the sun goes down... Well, I don't have to tell Vin how it is. He knows. Probably better than me.I glance over at my companion. He's been even quieter than usual. Of course, we've both been too miserable to say much and neither one of us are talkers even at the best of times, but all the same... I think he's gettin' sick. Comin' down with a fever or somethin'. He'll never admit to it though. Just like I'll never admit exactly how worried I'm startin' to become.
He seems to know I'm looking at him. Thinking about him. He always seems to know. He looks at me and attempts a reassuring smile with lips too stiff and cold to do more than turn up a bit at the corners. He seems to feel the cold more intensely than most. Maybe that's why he hardly ever takes off that damn jacket. For all the good it's doing him now.
"At least we don't have to worry about dying of thirst." I have to shout to be heard above the howling of the wind, which has been increasing steadily the last hour or so.
"Just be glad it aint started snowin' yet." I could barely hear Vin's raspy drawl over the wind.
"Famous last words." I mutter seconds later, watching the swirling white flakes settle on the brim of Vin's already sodden hat.
All traces of amusement vanish when I see the shudders wracking my companion's body, despite his best efforts to conceal them. We had to find shelter. I peer into the distance. It's getting darker by the minute. If we don't find something soon, we'll have to do the best we can out in the open. I didn't think much of our chances in that case.
A quarter of an hour later, I spot it. Our salvation. A tumbledown shack in the middle of nowhere. An abandoned homestead perhaps. Or an old line shack. I didn't particularly care at the moment. As long as it gets us out of this hellish freak storm.
I stop and wait for Vin to catch up with me. Grabbing his arm, I point in the direction of the shack.
"Last one there cooks supper." Vin's voice was barely a whisper by now.
The relief I feel is almost painful in its intensity. He would be fine once we got out of this storm. He had to be, I thought, following him towards our 'home' for the evening.
Life's a funny thing. When I rode into town all those months ago, my only aim was a bottle of whiskey and a warm bed. I sure as hell never intended to wind up caring about the six men I now call friends. And I definitely had no intention of taking on responsibility for an entire town. But it somehow happened that way. Sometimes I wonder if I ever had any choice in the matter. I guess it doesn't really make much difference. What's done is done. And I wouldn't change it now, even if I could.
When we reach the shack, I tell Vin to go inside. I'll take care of the horses. One look at my face decides him against arguing with me. Wise man. I put the horses in the little lean-to built onto the side of our shelter. The horses should be all right til morning. They'll probably be a helluva lot better than we will, in fact.
I almost stumble across Vin when I walk through the sagging door of the dwelling. He's huddled on the floor, shivering and trying to take off his boots. The two acts seem to be mutually exclusive.
I kneel down beside him and gently push his hands away. They're so cold to the touch, mine feel almost warm in comparison. I quickly strip him of his boots, and the rest of his gear while I'm at it, before wrapping him in one of the blankets. He notices me starting to shiver and jerks his head in the direction of the other blanket.
"I'll be fine," he tells me through chattering teeth.
Getting out of my wet clothes as quickly as possible, I wrap up in the other blanket and begin to inventory our belongings. We have two blankets, a piece of oilcloth to use as a ground cover and a bottle of whiskey. Everything else is wet. That means no fire for tonight at least. Damn. I look around the inside of our temporary shelter. A dirt floor, a sagging roof and four bare walls. That's it. I realize this is going to be a long night. This damn freak storm came blowing in out of nowhere. It's long past the usual time for this kind of weather. Wondering why these things always seem to happen to me isn't getting me anywhere, so I grab one of the bottles and walk back over to Vin.
"Here. Drink this." I order. He takes a couple of swallows and it seems to help some, but not enough.He's still too cold for my liking. I'm cold, but getting out of my wet, half frozen clothing appears to have gotten me past the worst of it. I huddle closer to Vin, urging him to drink a bit more. I'm wondering what else I can do, so he doesn't wind up getting pneumonia or worse, when I remember something Nathan had told me a while back.
"Body heat. Skin on skin contact is the quickest way to warm a person who needs it." I couldn't remember what else he'd told me. I could only hope what I did remember was enough. If, no, when it worked, I'd have to thank Nathan when me and Vin got back to town.
Spreading the oilcloth out on the ground, I waste no time helping Vin over to it. He makes no protest, which worries me. He usually hates being fussed over. I lay down next to him and cover us both with the two blankets. He's still shivering, so I gingerly pull him a little closer, til our bodies are touching down their entire length.
Maybe I wouldn't thank Nathan after all. I don't know about Vin, but I'm feeling pretty damn uncomfortable right about now. Having a naked man smack up against me like this isn't something I'm used to. Telling myself that it's a simple matter of necessity doesn't help. Neither does telling myself any of the other reasonable things I come up with. After several minutes, I stop trying.
"Uh, Vin?" I whisper. "Is there any of that whisky still left?"
Silently, he hands me the bottle. I tilt my head back and let the whiskey slide down my throat. As a tiny whisper of warmth begins to seep through my body, I can feel myself starting to relax. We finish the bottle of whiskey, neither one of us breaking the silence. A short while later, I notice that Vin has stopped shivering. That's good. Now maybe we can get some sleep. God knows we need it after today.
Vin drops off to sleep pretty quickly. Between exhaustion, cold, a touch of somethin' or other and 2/3 a bottle of whiskey, my tracker companion didn't stand much of a chance. I only wish I could do the same. But I remain stubbornly awake, despite all my efforts to the contrary.
As I lay there, I'm becoming uncomfortably aware of the hard length of body pressed against mine. It's not supposed to feel good like this. But it does. Unconsciously, I press closer, burying my face in the soft tangle of hair at his neck. Wait a minute. What am I doing? I start to pull back, determined to ignore these strange sensations coursing through my body. Exhaustion and the cold must be affecting me more than I realize. Yeah. That's it. Just then, Vin makes a little whimpering sound in his sleep. I hold perfectly still and he rolls over, flinging an arm across my waist as he does so. Great.
I'm debating the best way to remove Vin's arm, grinding my teeth in frustration as I do so, when Vin moves his arm slightly. I think he's about to remove it himself, and I feel an acute flash of disappointment mingled with my relief. But that's not what he does.
I lay there in shock as Vin's fingers begin caressing my stomach. My chest. I turn my head to look at him. His eyes are closed. He looks like he's still asleep. Oh God. What do I do now? I try saying his name very softly. No response. His hand continues to wander. I know I should wake him up, but I can't bring myself to do it. I try telling myself that it would only embarass both of us if I did that. And it's too cold to sleep seperately. But the truth is, it just feels so damn good, I don't want it to stop. I know I should be appalled at what's happening. Not the least because Vin isn't even aware of what he's doing. Some friend I'm turning out to be. But it's difficult to care about shame or friendship or anything besides the feel of those hands. I groan and pull Vin closer. I brush my lips against his. Any fleeting second thoughts I may be entertaining are lost as he parts his lips and wraps both arms around me. Tomorrow morning will be soon enough to reget this. For now, I only care about tonight.
THE END