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ALL IS GRAY
by C.V. Puerro |
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ALL IS GRAY
by C.V. Puerro |
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Continued...
Where we goin', Chris?" Buck asked as he followed the man on horseback through the shrubs and over the rocks. The light was fading fast which made their journey all the more difficult, though Chris seemed confident of where he was leading his companion."It's just over here," the gunman finally said, as he pushed through an outcropping of dense shrubs. Buck pushed his way through behind the man, and then stopped in wonder at what lay before them.
It was a small pond, covered in a thin misty cloud. There was a tinge of sulfur in the air, though not enough to be unbearable, and Buck could feel that the air was slightly warmer and more humid here.
"What is this place?" he asked, pushing his hat off his head.
"Hot springs. Discovered 'em not long ago when I was out hunting that damn fox what'd been bothering the chickens."
Buck dismounted, tying his horse up to a nearby tree, before making his way to the edge of the pond. The water bubbled up in places and he noted certain spots had a stronger sulfur smell than others.
He then noticed Chris stripping out of his clothes. "Come on. It'll help your shoulder."
Buck nodded his head, and then began to strip as well. He still wasn't entirely comfortable getting naked with this man, his oldest friend, but he'd admitted his feelings and now there was no turning back.
As he unfastened the buttons on his trousers and slipped the material off his legs, he watched in fascination as Chris left behind his pile of clothes and stepped slowly into the pond, allowing the warm water to gently cover his lean form.
When Chris was waist deep, he turned to Buck and gestured for the man to follow him in. Buck stepped carefully to the shore and tested the water with his foot. It was warm, a lot warmer than the water one got at the bath house, even when you paid extra for it not to be cold.
Chris now had his shoulders beneath the hot liquid and he watched the other man make his way slowly into the water, his skin gradually getting used to the increased temperature. Buck felt a little odd having Chris so openly stare at him, even though there was no one around to see. At least the man was discreet enough to save his leers for a private moment, Buck thought to himself.
"So, what do you think?" the gunslinger asked when Buck was chest deep in the water.
"I think a man could cook some delicate parts in here if he wasn't careful."
Chris grinned in a silent laugh, then warned Buck, "Just stay away from that area yonder. The water there, near the vents, would prob'ly scald you."
"Good ta know," Buck nodded as he settled in next to Chris, his own shoulders now submerged beneath the water.
He then felt Chris's hand come to rest gently on his thigh. He didn't want to, but he tensed anyway. Buck had known this man for over a decade, yet he suddenly felt like a fourteen-year-old boy around him — a fumbling, inexperienced virgin. Then Buck realized, in a way, he was. The two men had yet to become that intimate. He just wasn't ready. It was still all so new and confusing to him. Luckily, Chris was patient, allowing him to take his time.
Hell, they'd both already waited over a dozen years, what was a few more days, or even weeks? Still, the thoughts scared him. Buck laughed to himself at the ridiculousness of it all. He faced down gunmen nearly everyday; he'd even faced almost certain death; yet, it was the touch of another man that made him quake in his boots.
But the oddest thing was, he did want to touch Chris. Ever since he'd rashly grabbed Vin in the barn and kissed him that very afternoon — he had tried to ignore the growing need to be with Chris and had eventually failed. He wanted to hold him and caress him and take him in his arms and kiss him, like he'd done so many other times with all those women who could never be Chris.
He just didn't understand why, if he wanted this so badly, he couldn't actually bring himself to do anything about it.
"So, whatdaya wanna do tonight?" he asked and JD replied by slipping his hands over Vin's thighs and then back into the water. He groped around until he found Vin's cock, not quite as rigid as it had been before their horseplay.
"Go fishin'," JD said as he circled his hands around the shaft and began to tug as if he was struggling to reel in a rainbow trout. "It's a big 'un, Vin! But don't worry! I got him, I got him!!"
"Oww!" Vin cried out when the kid gave his cock a quick, unexpected jerk and the kid immediately let go. "Aw, JD. Ya let him get away. Now what are we gonna do?"
"Aw, man!" JD moaned, and immediately put his hands between Vin's thighs again but before he could re-catch his prize, Vin slid down the kid's legs and away.
"Oh, no, JD. Looks like it was a bass ya had there and he's swimmin' for it," Vin said and he slid his body deeper into the water. "A wide-mouth bass, I'd say." The tracker formed his mouth into an "O" and then opened and closed it like he was a fish. JD began to laugh at him. "I heard those bass don't take kindly ta bein' caught, even just for a moment. They got a tendency toward revenge...." He made the "O" with his mouth again and tried to make what he thought sounded like fish noises as he breathed in and out through his open mouth.
Suddenly, Vin plunged his head down and caught JD's cock in his mouth. He took JD's entire length inside, running his tongue over the length as he went, sucking slightly on the thick flesh. Then he moved his mouth back up warm rod, caressing the skin with his tongue, blowing and sucking along the way, until JD's head was pressed firmly back onto the river bank and his fingers were clawing at the sandy bottom.
Vin ran his hands over JD's skin, over his thighs, across his stomach, between his legs. He found the kid's balls and began to knead them, pressing his palm flat against them then moving his hand back and forth in time with the movements of his mouth along JD's cock. Then his hand slipped back and found the pucker of skin he knew would be there, eagerly awaiting him. He immediately slipped a finger inside and wiggled it around until the kid squirmed beneath him, bucking his hips and thrusting his cock deeper into Vin's warm mouth.
Vin took him all in as he added another finger up JD's tight ass. For a moment he was sorry they hadn't thought to bring the feather duster along, and he didn't think a fishing pole would be an appropriate substitute, so he made up his mind to do without this time, knowing there would be a next time.
He released JD's cock then and scooted back up the kid's body, parting the water with his tongue as he kissed the kid's stomach and chest. When Vin reached JD's lips, he lingered for a moment above them, just feeling JD's warm breath on his face as he looked down into the fathomlessly dark eyes, not empty, but filled with as much life as any night this near the desert would be.
He then placed a gentle kiss on the smooth lips, as if they were the petals of a rose. "You are snow in summertime," he mumbled, brushing his lips over JD's. "Sunshine at midnight. Life to an empty soul."
"Those are pretty words, Vin," the kid said, his smiling lips persuading Vin's into the same expression. "Wish I could think of something like that to say to you."
"Just say what ya feel," he encouraged.
JD nodded, but then was silent. Vin filled the time patiently, nuzzling the kid's hair and neck, placing soft kisses along his jaw and earlobe. "I feel happy to be with ya. Loved, appreciated, wanted. Secure. Ya make my heart ache every time I look at ya, knowin' what it's like when we're together." The kid smiled then and Vin knew he was done, at least for the moment.
"I ache for you, too. Wish we could be like this all the time."
JD nodded. "Wish ya could be inside me right now."
Vin laughed, saying, "Well, I guess ya are a lucky bastard, 'cuz I think yer wish is gonna come true. But ya gotta close yer eyes, wish real hard...."
JD did as he was told, while Vin repositioned himself between the kid's legs. JD then pulled his knees up close to his chest and Vin reinserted his two fingers. Immediately, JD bore down on them and Vin was able to quickly add a third.
"Ahh— I'm wishing', Vin. Wishin' hard."
"Hard is right," Vin said as he ran his hand over his own stiff cock. The water wasn't much of a lubricant, so he spat into his palm, then spread it back and forth over his shaft, desperate to thrust deep into JD, but holding his patience until they were both ready.
"Hard, Vin," JD said before he could even enter him. The kid reached for his own thick organ, pulling on it, pumping it even as he pressed down again on Vin's fingers inside of him. "I'm ready, Vin," he insisted.
Vin scooted forward, positioning the tip of his cock at the puckered opening, then pushed himself inside. He was surprised at how easily he entered, smiling that JD had been right about being ready; the kid was starting to become very comfortable, to know his own body's responses and needs.
"Hard, Vin. Hurry!"
Vin grabbed the kid's hips and began to move inside of him, slowly at first, until JD grabbed his hands and encouraged him to move faster and harder. Vin moaned when JD did, when his cock finally struck the soft spot deep inside of him. He hit it again with his next thrust, and again, until JD's moans were filling the air around them. Vin pounded harder until the kid shuddered and cried out, then he eased back a bit, altered his angle, giving JD shorter, slower thrusts for a while.
He noticed the kid's cock was still hard and the water around it still clear, so he curled his fingers around the flesh and gently began to stroke it in time with his thrusts.
Brief thoughts of Chris began to enter his mind for some reason and he tried unsuccessfully to push them away. Watching himself stroke JD reminded him of Chris stroking himself last night on the roof of the saloon. Feeling his cock buried inside the kid brought to mind the gunslinger's hot, tight ass.
Vin started to thrust harder again, deeper, grunting with the renewed effort, as his mind relived fucking Chris. He knew he'd be with Chris again, there was just something about the man, something compelling which Vin could neither deny nor avoid — a power, a sense of security that JD in his youthful exuberance and innocence could never lend him. But he could give those things to JD, as well as his energy and spirit.
He gave those things to JD now, harder and faster with each thrust inside, with each stroke over the kid's hard, thick cock. In, out, in as the water around them grew into waves with the rhythm of Vin's pounding. Until, finally, JD cried out one last time, his milky cum spurting into the water to be carried off with the waves, as Vin's own body clenched, pumping his fluid deep inside his partner.
Vin then sank down into the water to lay next to JD, both men breathing hard, the refreshing waters lapping over their warm, tired bodies.
The gambler sniffed the air, and then changed direction, moving beside a line of more shrubs for some distance before finally reaching a thinner spot where he was able to peer through at what lay hidden beyond. And the sight before him was wondrous to behold. A true hot spring. Visions danced through the businessman's head — a resort and spa for therapeutic healing, like the ones that had become so popular in Europe over the last few years. He could make tens of thousands of dollars off such a venture. Perhaps even become a millionaire and be able to retire to some cozy villa in the south of France.
But a gentle breeze rustled through the leaves and brought Ezra back to the here and now. It also cleared away the thick layer of mist that had clung to the surface of the water. To the gambler's wonder and amazement, he now saw the pond was occupied by two people. Two people he knew: Buck Wilmington and Chris Larabee.
He knew that he was near to Larabee's property, but could he have inadvertently crossed over onto it? This certainly complicated the plans for his resort. That was until he saw Chris lean over and kiss Buck, then all thoughts of buildings and guests and money fled his mind.
Chris and Buck? Together? Romantically?
This just didn't seem possible to Ezra, yet there they were at the far edge of the pond, naked, engaged in intimate, physical contact.
His mind told him that he ought to give the men their privacy, but he simply could not tear his eyes from the spectacle.
As Chris straddled the other man, deepening their kiss, Ezra felt a tingling growing in his own loins. It was an unexpected reaction to what he was watching; he thought it should bother him, but the fact was it didn't. He reached down and gently repositioned his growing manhood within the fabric of his trousers as he continued to stare at the two men, Buck's arms now wrapped around the gunman to gently caress up and down his back.
Unconsciously, Ezra moved his own hand in time with Buck's, up and down his hardening shaft. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Buck, the consummate ladies' man — or was that merely a ruse, so no one would suspect his true nature? And Chris. He just seemed so, well, Ezra wasn't sure what. Somber, reserved, angry. It was hard enough for the southerner to imagine the man with his wife, let alone another woman — but a man? Never. Yet there sat Chris Larabee, astride Buck's hips, kissing that man's mustached face, running his hands over the broad, muscled shoulders.
Ezra let out a quiet, ragged sigh. He should not be watching these two, let alone feeling this way while he was. Still, he could not help himself. He eased himself down onto the ground, mindful not to make any noise that might alert the men to his presence.
He then began to undo the buttons on his trousers until he was able to slip a hand inside to finally grasp his thickening shaft. His own touch made him ache for release, but the gambler knew patience. He continued to watch.
Chris then eased himself out of the water, spreading a bedroll down near the edge of the pool. He then stretched out onto his back, casually running his fingers lightly over his own hard cock. Buck had turned around in the water to stare, but no words seemed to pass between the two men until Ezra faintly heard, "I don't know if I can do this."
Chris sat up on his elbows to meet the other man's eyes. "I'll show you how," was all the gambler could hear him say.
Buck then hesitantly rose from the water and kneeled, dripping wet, onto the bedroll beside Chris's feet. Chris sat up to run a hand — which Ezra imagined was calloused and rough — down Buck's chest until it came to rest on the man's extended shaft. Ezra watched as Chris's fingers encircled the flesh and he shifted his own grip in replication.
He then saw the look on Buck's face — a mixture of trepidation and pleasure, like he couldn't fight how good the touch felt on his skin, yet he couldn't get past the fact that it belonged to a man instead of a woman. Ezra then wondered what it would be like to be touched by Chris Larabee, a man who he'd disappointed at the first opportunity, not knowing then what he knew now, that this man's trust was something to be valued, because it was not something imprudently given. Ezra's stomach suddenly felt odd, hollow, realizing that he needed this man's respect and confidence as much as he craved his mother's affection.
But in his heart he knew he would never attain either. That simply wasn't his lot in life.
Ezra then saw Chris holding up a small, brown jar. He couldn't tell what it contained, even after the man dipped his fingers into it, though he finally guessed it was some sort of grease as he watched the man spread the pale substance over Buck's cock. The long, thick organ now glistened slightly in the full moonlight in which the two men bathed.
Ezra continued to stroke his own shaft, finally spitting into his palm when the sensation of dry skin against dry skin began to chafe.
Chris reached down between his own legs and wiped his fingers there before offering the little pot to Buck who hesitantly stuck his finger into it. When he removed it, Ezra could see Chris's lips move; he couldn't quite hear what the man said, but he knew as soon as he saw the man draw his knees up to his chest and Buck reach between his legs.
Ezra stared hard as he realized what Buck was doing. The man had his finger up his friend's ass, and he was gently thrusting it in and out. This vision should have repulsed the southerner, but instead he felt a tensing at the base of his cock, which he continued to rub.
It wasn't long before Chris reached over and grasped Buck's dick, using it to pull him closer. Ezra saw the man reach down briefly to caress the other man's balls, then he heard faintly, "Nice and slow, Buck. It's not a horse race."
Buck nodded as he grasped Chris's hip with one hand and used his other to guide his cock into position. Ezra then watched in abject fascination as Buck inserted his thick, hard shaft into the gunslinger, pulling himself closer until Ezra could see no space between them.
Buck was buried inside of Chris. The thought amazed, excited, and confused the gambler. He shifted his gaze to the gunslinger's face and noted the closed eyes and the look of bliss on the man's lips. He then looked over at Buck. For all intents and purposes, Ezra thought, that man could have had himself buried in a woman from what his features revealed about the difference. Yet there was something odd about his expression — he knew Buck was experienced, the man made no secret of all the women he had bedded, but Ezra thought there was a wonder about him now, an innocence.
This was Buck's first time, he suddenly realized.
A small grin broke over Ezra's face. He did not know why he found that thought so amusing, but he did.
Then he saw the man's expression change. His eyes remained shut, but his mouth went from slightly open and slack to clenched. Then, a sudden, fierce sound broke the silence of the night as Buck cried out, obviously unleashing his seed into Chris.
Ezra felt his own orgasm coming on then, and he pumped his hand faster over his shaft, shifting his legs slightly so that his jism would spill to the ground and not soil either his jacket or pants. He bit firmly down on his lower lip to prevent himself from crying out as Buck had done, but he could not stop the muscles in his gut from spasming as he jolted forward just as the white cream began to spew from his aching cock.
Breathing hard, he quickly opened his eyes once the tension had dissipated, to stare over at the couple again. Buck was now laying on the bedroll next to Chris, his head back and his arm flung across his eyes as if sleeping. Then Ezra shifted his vision to Chris and quickly noted the man's still-firm erection.
The gambler was perplexed. How was it possible that Chris had allowed Buck to come, but had, at least so far, foregone the pleasure himself? Was he merely waiting for Buck to recover enough to finish the job, or was he planning on taking matters into his own hands, as Ezra had just done?
"I told you it was different."
"Well, you were right. I mean, the sensations were ... well, amazing just doesn't even begin to describe it." He couldn't ever remember feeling this good after being with a woman.
Chris smiled, obviously pleased that Buck had enjoyed his first time, and then he leaned over and kissed the man. But Buck flinched when the gunslinger's still solid erection brushed against his leg.
"Chris, I'm sorry. I—"
"What's the matter?"
But Buck couldn't find the words. Tentatively, he reached out a hand, not touching the man's cock, but merely gesturing toward it.
"It's okay, Buck."
"Oh, but I know how it can begin ta ache, when not relieved properly." He knew all too well, having been unfortunately interrupted far too many times over the course of his life so far. And it seemed unfair to Chris that he should be the one to get all of the pleasure from this encounter. "I— well, I suppose— I mean— ah, is there somethin' I can do about it?"
"If you want," Chris raised his brow, but did not grin, for which Buck was grateful — he didn't think he could handle a leer from the man right at that moment.
"Well, all right then. I— I'm game. Tell me, ah, what ta do," Buck offered, but then began to regret his generosity. He wasn't sure he was ready to do more than what they'd already done, which, at its most basic, was what he usually did with women and, therefore, somewhat familiar.
"You can touch it for starters," Chris told him.
Buck then reached out a hand, slowly, hesitantly. He'd never touched a cock other than his own. Ever. He wondered briefly if they all felt the same, but then chased the thought from his mind.
He wasn't sure he could do this.
Chris carefully took his hand and began to rub Buck's palm with his thumb until he began to relax a little. The gunslinger then slowly eased Buck's hand down until it was in gentle contact with his hard penis. Buck allowed his hand to remain there, but he did nothing else — afraid to move, even to wrap his fingers around it. But, Chris had kept his hand on Buck's and now slowly began to move it up and down the warm skin of his shaft.
Buck realized the sensation against his palm was similar to what he was used to, though this man's cock was just a tad shorter and not quite as thick as his own. He then allowed Chris to encourage his fingers to curl around the shaft. And soon he was able to leave him on his own, Buck's natural instinct for how to stroke a cock finally kicking in.
"Is this all ya want," Buck asked, realizing the man could probably do a more efficient job himself. Though he was becoming slightly aroused again, so maybe the thrill was there for Chris as well.
"There's something else you could do, if you want to try," the gunslinger casually offered, but Buck knew the man too well, knew that casual suggestion was actually a sincere request.
Buck nodded at the man. At least, hear him out, Wilmington, he told himself. How bad could it be?
"You could suckle it," Chris finally said, and, though Buck tried to hide it from his features, he was horrified at the thought.
The vision of Vin and JD flashed through his mind again: the kid, on his knees before Vin, with the man's cock shoved into his mouth. He did understand how wrong he was to assume the act was all about subjugation, but beyond that — faced with it — Buck just didn't think he could stomach actually tasting another man. He knew women did it, though he didn't know how often, or if any of them ever enjoyed it.
Still, JD wasn't the type to do something he really hated just to please someone else, so maybe it wasn't so bad after all. And it did seem to be something Chris desired.
Buck reached out a tentative hand, gently wrapping it around the man's solid, hot erection again. He then scooted closer, trying to steel his nerves as he began to lower his head.
Suddenly, the pair was startled by a rustling in the bushes on the far side of the hot spring. Buck had instinctively tensed, causing his grip on Chris's cock to tighten.
The gunslinger flinched, and then quickly reached down to remove Buck's hand as he stood. He made his way quietly over to his pile of clothes where he retrieved his gun. He motioned for Buck to stay behind as he walked around the edge of the pool to investigate.
Buck stood up from the bedroll as well and retrieved his own sidearm. But he hung back, as Chris had motioned for him to do. In case it was an ambush, the distance between them would give them a better advantage.
Still, Buck thought he ought to at least put his pants on. He just felt so odd standing there, naked as a plum, holding his gun, and watching Chris in the same fashion. But he knew there was no time for such concessions to modesty.
He watched as Chris neared the shrubs. The man slowly pushed the foliage aside and stepped through. A moment later, Buck saw a brown hare hopping out from the brush — it paused for a moment, staring at Buck, then turn, sprinting away, as if suddenly realizing what it had interrupted.
A moment later, Chris stepped back into view. He shook his head, indicating he had seen no one.
"Just that there rabbit, huh?" Buck asked as Chris returned to his side.
"Don't know. It's hard to tell in the moonlight, but there might have been boot prints in the dirt."
"Someone was watchin' us?!" Buck said, horrified at the mere thought that someone would purposely do such a thing.
Chris shrugged, and Buck got the uneasy feeling that the man wasn't telling all he knew.
"Maybe we oughta head back," Buck suggested as he reached for his pants. He was already uncomfortable enough thinking about taking Chris's manhood into his mouth, he now didn't need to worry that there might be someone out there in the darkness watching the entire event.
Chris nodded and reached for his own clothes. Buck was a bit disappointed when the man's cock disappeared inside his pants, but he noticed the member was not as rigid as it had been, so he was slightly relieved that he hadn't left his partner completely in distress.
Still, this was one he owed Chris and he would make sure he paid him back, somehow.
"Hey, did ya see that?" JD suddenly asked, pointing up into the sky. But Vin shook his head, no. "A shooting star!"
"Best make a wish then, kid, and right quick," Vin told him.
JD nodded, and then closed his eyes for a moment. "Okay," he said when he was done, then added, "Aren't ya gonna ask me what I wished for?"
"Nope," the tracker said simply, not an inkling of curiosity in his voice. "Won't come true if ya tell."
"That's what my mama said," JD said, smiling at the unexpected memory.
"Mine, too," Vin added quietly.
A split second later, they both heard it. Vin spurred his horse along side JD's as the kid shouted, "Gun shot!"
They were close enough to town to see the lights in a few of the windows and noticed more coming on as they grew closer, as the gun shots continued.
As they rounded the corner into town at a full gallop, they came upon a horrible scene. Someone was roped, being dragged behind a horse down the middle of the street as other men stood on the boardwalks taking pot shots.
Vin pulled his horse to an immediate stop and drew his rifle. He cocked the weapon, and then carefully sighted his target before squeezing off a single round.
Staying clear of Vin's line of fire, JD kept riding hard down the street oblivious to the fact that he was running through a gauntlet of bullets. As the wounded horseman fell from his mount, the kid grabbed for the reins, preventing the beast from bolting.
He then swung down from his horse and pulled one of his sidearms to brandish at the gunmen, who now began to scatter. Vin joined him, less concerned for the outlaws than for the man on the ground, still tied behind the horse.
But, before the gunmen could run far, Ezra appeared in a buckboard, turning the rig to block one exit route. Chris and Buck appeared moments later to back him up, and Josiah came riding in from the opposite direction. Using their horses, the four men quickly had the drunken cowboys herded up and, moments later, were hustling them off to the jailhouse.
But Vin and JD didn't notice. Vin had passed the kid his knife and he had immediately set about cutting through the ropes that had bitten into the now-swollen flesh of the victim's ankles. Vin took the blue bandana from around his neck and was binding the bullet wound on the man's upper arm.
"Gimme yer belt, JD," he requested, and upon receiving the article, he strapped it just above the bloody wound on the man's thigh. But there were more cuts and gashes from being dragged through the street. Vin needed more dressings to stop all the bleeding.
"Chris!" he finally shouted as loud as he could. "Chris, CHRIS!!" he continued to yell, in a voice beyond his control to stop. "Chris, dammit, Chris!"
Their group leader came running out of the jailhouse a moment later, with Buck and Ezra on his heels. But when the three men reached JD and Vin, they stopped, horrified by the bloodied man before them.
The men tore off belts, bandannas, jackets, anything they had to temporarily dress the wounds, to stem the bleeding.
A few moments later, Josiah came rushing to join them, but then stopped dead in his tracks as he looked down at the poor man, recognition setting in. "No!!" he wailed as he fell to his knees near the man's head. "NATHAN!!"
He took the healer's head gently in his hands, brushing some of the dirt from his dark face. Then he began to weep.
"Josiah," Chris spoke, but the man did not hear him. "Josiah!! We don't have time for this. We have to get him upstairs to the clinic. Josiah!" Chris ordered, reading to bodily shake the larger man if necessary. "Help us move him!"
Josiah eased the black man's head back onto the ground, and then moved to his side, lifting him gently into his great arms. Nathan was a tall man, but Josiah seemed to possess the strength of ten men at that moment and easily carried him up the stairs, with half of his companions proceeding him and the other half following.
Josiah laid their wounded healer gently down on the bed.
"JD, get over to the jail and watch those men," Chris ordered. "I don't want a jail break, because they're all gonna pay for what they've done!"
The kid was about to argue, but then looked down at Nathan again and quietly gave in.
"Ezra, Buck," their leader continued, "we're gonna need hot water and lots of towels."
Neither man even took the time to tip his hat as they both raced from the room.
Vin was already digging through the cabinets to see what items they had on hand. He'd lived with the Indians long enough to know how to treat the most basic of injuries, though he feared Nathan's condition was beyond his rudimentary knowledge. Still, there was no one else in their group more experienced.
He came back to the bed with an armful of items, a few metal utensils, salve, alcohol, bottles of various liquids, and some bandages.
He handed the largest brown bottle to Josiah, saying, "Give him a swig of this if he wakes up." It was laudanum and it would cut the pain should the man have the misfortune of regaining consciousness, which Vin doubted would happen in his current condition, but at least it gave Josiah something to do besides stroke the wounded man's one unabraded cheek.
Vin then reached for his knife, only to realize the kid had neglected to give it back. He pushed Nathan up slightly, but found the man's set of knives missing from their sheaths, and he concluded they had either been thrown in defense or they had come loose while he was being dragged and were now lying useless in the street.
"We need knives," he finally said to his two companions. Josiah handed over his large hunting knife, as Chris dug for his own pocketknife. "We gotta get these clothes offa him, Chris. Just cut through 'em," Vin advised, as he started in on the pant leg closest to him. A moment later, Chris was doing the same with the other pant leg.
They traded knives once Vin had sliced through the waistband of the pants, knowing Chris's smaller knife would not do the job quickly enough. Then Vin started cutting away at Nathan's shirt, giving over the job to Chris once the man had pulled free the bloodied pants.
Vin now set his mind to assessing the wounds. He'd never had to treat anything this bad; he'd once set a broken bone, he had treated his own, numerous cuts and abrasions, but he'd never worked on a bullet wound before, and Nathan, he now saw, had several. "Those damn bastards," he swore under his breath as he counted the wounds. "This one on his arm passed clean through. This one here at his side just scraped away a layer of skin. But it looks like there's three bullets still in him."
"Dear Lord," Josiah began to pray quietly. "This man has tended to our wounds, now help us tend to his...."
Vin poured some alcohol — as he'd seen Nathan do — over a pair of metal tongs then handed the bottle to Chris along with a rag, instructing him to wipe away as much blood as he could. Then Vin began to dig into the bullet hole nearest to him, in the man's upper thigh. A few moments later, the lead was torn free, but blood began to well up in the hole and spill down over the man's leg.
Ezra rushed through the door at that moment, his arms full of towels. He saw the bright red fluid and immediately pressed a towel to it, and they all watched, frightened, as the blood simply soaked right through. Ezra pressed another towel on top of the first, setting the remaining towels on the bed within easy reach.
"Buck is bring hot water," he said and he wasn't offended when no one seemed to hear his faltering voice.
Vin had moved himself to Nathan's shoulder. The bullet there didn't seem as deep, but he could feel the tongs striking bone as he dug around. When he pulled that bullet free, Ezra was holding a towel at the ready for him, but very little blood pooled up in the hole. Vin was worried that this meant Nathan didn't have much blood left in him too collect in any one spot, but then pushed that thought from his mind. If he was really bleeding that much, there was no way in hell a real doctor, let alone a mere tracker, was going to be able to save him.
Vin pressed the towel against Nathan's shoulder, then felt Chris's hand cover his own. He slipped his free as their leader now held the towel firmly over the wound.
The third bullet had also struck Nathan's thigh, but lower than the first, and more toward the inside. Ezra seemed to have the bleeding under control from the first wound, but Vin was afraid to move Ezra out of the way, for fear that the bleeding would increase again, so he moved around to the other side of the bed. He then began digging for the last bullet; he was relieved to strike against it almost immediately and was elated when he felt the tongs clamp around the lead. He nearly yelped with joy when the bullet came out so easily.
Vin looked briefly over at Josiah and suddenly knew the power of the man's prayers.
Buck arrived just then with two pitchers of steaming water. Vin handed him the remaining towels to soak in the hot liquid as he began to pull strips of cloth out of the pile of medical supplies he'd brought over to the bed.
He removed the bandanna from around Nathan's arm and wiped the blood away with one of the wet towels. He then wadded a bandage into a pad and secured it in place by wending another bandage around Nathan's arm. The wound on the healer's side was similarly tended.
Vin was dreading the three bullet wounds. There had been a lot of blood and he didn't like the idea of removing the towels Chris and Ezra were holding in place; he'd seen too much blood pouring from Nathan's body already. Finally, Vin simply decided to secure the bloodied towels in place with bandages, figuring they could change the towels later, once the bleeding had lessened.
Once Chris's hand was free from Nathan's shoulder, he began wiping the alcohol over the black man's other cuts and abrasions. Vin's eyes met Chris's for the briefest of moments and he knew that Chris was equally amazed that Nathan was still alive, but also that, for all of his wounds, his clothes hadn't somehow been shredded completely off his body during the ordeal.
The men then helped Vin roll Nathan onto his side so that they could tend to the cuts and abrasions that covered the man's back. "Can you fellers handle this for a few minutes?" the tracker asked, relieved there were no deep wounds to tend. "They just need the dirt wiped outta 'em, and, ah ... prob'ly, um, yeah, some alcohol after," he said, thinking hard about what Nathan would do if their places were reversed and knowing there was too much he could never even guess at.
When Ezra and Josiah nodded, Vin pulled Chris outside.
"We need a doctor, Chris. A good one. I ain't never tended to anything this bad before — I got no idea if I'm doin' any of it right. Hell, I could be makin' things worse for all I know."
"You got the bullets out. I know that's important. That's the first thing Nathan always does for us."
"Yeah, but beyond that.... Chris, that man has lost so much blood and he's still unconscious. I have no idea what to do once we get him cleaned up. Maybe if he wakes up he can tell us, but what if he don't wake up?" The tracker was frantic, the worry and anxiety beginning to cause him to shake, and Chris finally had to grip him firmly by the shoulders. "Chris, he can't die. He can't!"
The gunman obviously had no response to that. They both knew things looked bad for their friend. All Chris could do was pull Vin into a comforting embrace; Vin wrapped his arms around the man, as if he could draw from this man's great strength in the face of yet another horrible adversity. But the hug didn't last nearly long enough to do Vin much good.
As the door to the clinic opened, Chris and Vin pushed away from each other. It was Ezra standing there, but he spared no time for odd looks or questions. He simply said, "We need your assistance in here, Vin."
Vin nodded and turned to go inside, hearing Chris behind him say, "I'll see about sending a telegram." Vin hoped in hell the man could find a doctor willing to travel the distance.
He felt guilty for the man's injuries, and then felt guilty for indulging in such thoughts. He knew they would do the man no good. Yet, he couldn't help thinking that if he and JD hadn't been off star gazing, they would have been in town and maybe they could have prevented all this from happening. Those goddamned, drunken cowboys from the James ranch — again, those bastards managed to cause more trouble than they were worth. If only they could run James off his land, life in the general vicinity would be a whole lot better, Vin thought. But the man owned the land outright, he was very wealthy, and he held a lot of sway with the territorial government. There wasn't any way they would have him or his men out of their hair anytime soon.
At dawn, Chris relieved Vin. "He wake up at all?" was the gunman's first words, but Vin shook his head, no. Chris then squeezed his hand, saying, "Get some rest. I'll send for you if he stirs."
Vin nodded. He thought he ought to head back to his wagon, but after a single night in that wooden chair, he felt like he'd been sleeping on rocks for a week. He wanted to head over to JD's room, to share the kid's warm bed and his loving embrace, but he knew that wasn't wise. If Chris did need him it was likely he'd send someone else to run the errand and Vin didn't feel like dealing with the consequences of that right now.
At his wagon, he found JD sitting alone on the tailgate.
"How is he?" the young man immediately asked as Vin sat down beside him.
But Vin just shook his head. He had no idea how Nathan was, no idea other than not good.
JD slipped a hand casually behind the tracker's back, squeezing him gently around the waist. But the innocent touch made Vin crave more. He was so scared for Nathan, and so tired from the long night of tending to the man. He just wanted to feel JD against him, be held by him while he slept. And he hated that it wasn't possible, that they had to sneak around and watch their every move lest anyone should come to suspect their close relationship.
"How's things over at the jail?" the tracker finally asked, trying to get his mind off being with the kid.
JD just nodded his okay. "I can't believe what those men did to Nathan."
"Treated him worse than they would have treated a dog. I swear, JD, if Nathan ... if he ... dies, I— I'm gonna kill every one of those filthy bastards with my bare hands."
JD moved his hand up to Vin's shoulder, giving him another comforting squeeze. The tracker looked over at him, soothed some by his concern, and then suddenly he found himself lost in JD's deep brown eyes, so warm and inviting. When he realized he was kissing the kid, in the middle of the street, in broad daylight, he pushed JD away.
"We gotta be more careful. People see us and they ain't gonna understand. We'll end up like Nathan, or worse."
"You mean Nathan likes men, too?" JD asked, his eyes wide.
But this made Vin smile, if only briefly. "No, kid. That ain't what I mean. Those men hurt Nathan 'cuz they could ... 'cuz they were drunk ... 'cuz they out numbered him.... Or maybe they just decided to pay us back for all the times we've stopped 'em from runnin' roughshod over this here town. All I'm tellin' ya is we gotta be careful 'bout how we act in public."
The kid nodded as he drew his arm away from the tracker, folding his hands together safely in his own lap.
"It's our fault Nathan got hurt. Because we weren't here to help him."
Vin shrugged. He'd thought so last night, but did protecting this town and backing up his friends mean that there was no room for anything else in his life? Or did he and the kid simply have to pick their moments a little more carefully? It was so easy with JD, though, to just up and ride off on a whim. He would get so caught up in thoughts of being with the kid that all else seemed to flee his mind.
"Weren't our fault any more than anyone else's. We all left Nathan alone last night. Got a little too comfortable with all the peace an' quiet 'round here lately. I shoulda known it wouldn't last." Never let yerself get too happy, too content, or too complacent, Vin bitterly reminded himself.
"Is Nathan gonna die, Vin?"
"God, I hope not, kid. Chris was gonna try to wire a doctor, see if he'd make the trip here, but I ain't got much hope that's gonna happen. If Nathan'd only wake up..." Vin trailed off.
As if wishing made it true, Ezra came uncharacteristically running around the corner. He stopped for a moment, obviously surprised to see the two men sitting so closely together. Vin immediately hopped off the wagon and walked toward the gambler.
"Chris says Nathan's awake," Ezra said, directing his words to the tracker, though JD heard them and followed the pair as they ran back up the street toward the clinic where the wounded healer lay.
Chris was on the balcony waiting for them once they topped the stairs. "He's out again," he said immediately. "Didn't say anything when he came to, but Josiah was quick thinking and gave him a few sips of water. He seemed to swallow them okay, but then he was out again."
Vin nodded. He knew what dehydration did to a man, he'd nearly succumbed to it a few times himself. The water, even if only a little bit, would help the man heal. He entered the clinic with his friends close on his heels. Josiah was kneeling next to the bed, his hands holding Nathan's and his head bent in prayer.
Vin eased back the blanket, and then checked the bandages. The worst one on the man's leg was soaked through with blood. "There anymore towels?" he asked and Ezra immediately handed him one from the dwindling pile he'd brought up the night before. Vin peeled off all but the one towel which was next to the man's dark skin — he just couldn't bear another look at the abused flesh — then added the new towel on top and re-bandaged the leg. He then checked the other two bullet-wounds and found neither of them had yet to soak through their top layers.
"Thank God, for that," Vin mumbled and Josiah added, "Amen." The tracker checked the other abrasions and noted that, so far, none had begun to fester. He hoped that would remain the case. He simply didn't have Nathan's skill for tending infections and wouldn't even begin to know what salves or medicines might be useful.
When he had done all that he could do, Vin rose from the side of the bed. "I gotta get some sleep. Josiah, ya prob'ly oughta eat somethin' soon," he told the vigilant man.
"The Lord will sustain me," Josiah muttered, without taking his eyes from Nathan's still form.
"It occurs to me, Mr. Sanchez, that Our Dear Lord might have his hands full with Nathan and would be appreciative of you tending to your own health for the moment," Ezra said as he approached the opposite side of the bed. He then sat down in the chair and leaned over to take Nathan's one free hand in his own. "I shall be ever vigil whilst you take a brief repast, Josiah."
JD looked over at Vin, as usual not quite understanding all of the gambler's words, but Vin just shrugged in reply. Josiah, however, stood, finally, though reluctantly, releasing his friend's hand and placing it gently at Nathan's side before pulling the blanket over it.
Once Josiah had left, Chris turned to Vin. "Thought you were gonna get some rest."
The tracker smiled weakly and then nodded before turning, leaving the clinic for the second time that morning. JD tried to hang back, but Chris clamped a hand on the kid's shoulder and pushed him through the door. "Seems to me you were up all night watching those damned prisoners. You best get some rest, too. And I do mean rest," the gunslinger added pointedly.
JD nodded his understanding, and then followed Vin down the stairs with Chris right on his heels. Vin headed over to the telegraph office, but no replies had yet come in from Chris's request for a doctor. When he turned, he saw the gunslinger slowing walking down the opposite boardwalk. They exchanged a brief nod before Chris turned towards the sheriff's office where Vin assumed Buck was keeping a watchful eye.
He fought the urge to follow Chris, to walk straight into the jail and start shooting. After turning to look back at the boarding house where JD kept his room — tempted once more by the thought of the kid's soft bed and his warm embrace — Vin fought back the urge, finally, continuing on down the street to his wagon. He just hoped things around town wouldn't get too bustling because then he would never fall asleep, even as exhausted as he was.
"I know we don't always agree and I know you don't approve of what you term my reprehensible habits, but that isn't any reason to leave us now. The others, well, you know as well as I do what fine men they are. And they need your help, far, far more than they need mine, if truth be told. I was not here for you last night — I was not here for anyone.
"So, if you can hear me, Nathan, please wake up. Vin's doing his best, but he isn't you and he doesn't have your knowledge or skill. You gotta wake up so you can tell him how best to tend to you. We need you, Nathan."
The southerner stopped talking when his voice began to quaver and tears blurred his vision. He then kneeled down next to the bed and did something he hadn't done since he was very small and living with a particularly pious set of relatives. He prayed.
Chris knew what he had to do. He had to ride out and confront Stuart James, but he'd slept on the cot in the back room of the jailhouse last night — in case there had been any trouble and JD needed back up — and was still bone tired. He also needed someone to go with him, but he wasn't sure whom would be best to take along.
JD, Vin, and Josiah were all exhausted. Buck and Ezra were about as well off as himself, but one of them had to stay behind to tend the prisoners. The question was, which one?
"Anything interesting happen while I was gone?" Chris asked his companion.
"No," Buck began quietly, but as he continued, his voice grew louder and more out of control. "But there will be if ya let me unlock just one of them cell doors so I can beat the livin' tar outta some of those heartless bastards!"
It was then that Chris made his decision. Buck's hot head wasn't going to do them any good confronting James, and he might actually instill a little fear in these God-forsaken prisoners without Chris to keep a close eye on him.
"I wired the Judge," the gunslinger said quietly as he sat on the edge of the desk. "Told him what these men did and said we needed a trial as soon as he can get here. I'm not looking forward to this many men crammed in here for very long."
Buck nodded, answering loud enough for the prisoners to hear him, "Well, ya just gimme the word and I'll thin out the herd for ya."
But Chris shook his head. "Only if they try to escape. And don't go dropping the key next to them bars to tempt them," he warned, though they both knew Buck would never do such a thing. It was merely a ploy of theirs to intimidate the prisoners. He then turned away from the cells, his smile of satisfaction aimed solely at Buck when he noticed the cowboys settling down some.
"How's your shoulder today," he continued, but in a very low voice only Buck could hear.
"Better. That hot spring of yours was some find!"
"Ain't mine. It's just over the property line. Belongs to some old prospector turned farmer. But I've never seen him around, so figured it was safe."
"You still think someone was watching us last night?"
Chris shrugged. "Hard to tell in the moonlight. And I doubt I'll find any traces left by the time things settle down around here and I manage to head back out there. Why, does it bother you?" he added the question with a sly grin.
"Hell yeah, it bothers me!" Buck protested, just a bit too loudly before checking himself. "Who knows who it might have been, or why they were there."
Chris laughed quietly. "Heaven forbid they got a rise outta what they saw."
