FIVE
Finally Vin blinked his way awake. It took some time for his mind to clear and the blurred images revolving in front of his eyes meant nothing to him at first. Then it hit him. "Casey? Where's Casey?" he cried out in alarm.He tried to sit up, but a sharp biting pain stabbed through his shoulder, ripping a gasp from his throat, and he sank back down again, tears of agony flooding his eyes.
"Keep still, Vin," Nathan said. "Here," he urged, holding out a glass, "drink this."
"Where's Casey?" Vin asked, ignoring the potion.
"She's fine. Now drink this." He could see from Vin's strained face and damp eyes that the tracker was in considerable pain and felt a paregoric mixed with a sleeping draught was the best thing for him.
However, that was not how Vin read the situation. He wanted to be sure that Nathan was not lying to spare him and also to know exactly what was going on. "Where is she?"
"Downstairs."
"Wh-Where are we?" As he spoke, he shifted awkwardly, trying fruitlessly to find a more comfortable position for his throbbing shoulder.
"At Mrs Wells' place. Now just be quiet and take your medicine." It was always a source of amazement to the healer how vocal the normally taciturn tracker became when he was ill or injured and thus forced to endure medical attention.
"What happened to ... to ... the man that t-tried to k-kidnap her?" His speech was becoming more halting as he struggled against pain and nausea that were threatening to pull him back into the darkness again.
"He got away, but Chris is after him so ..."
"Who else?" Vin inquired urgently, suddenly alert at the mention of Chris..
"Who else what?" The healer asked. He was getting exasperated by all the questions.
"Who's with Chris?"
"Nobody. Hey, keep still! You'll tear out your stitches! What do you think you're doing?" he demanded, as his patient tried to struggle up.
"I's goin' to help Chris," Vin replied determinedly, gritting his teeth against the knifing pain in his shoulder.
"No, you damn well aren't," Nathan rebuked, pushing him gently but firmly back down.
"B-But Ch-Chris might need help," Vin protested.
"Well, you're in no shape to give him any," Nathan retorted reprovingly.
"I can try," Vin insisted.
"No, you can't!" Nathan reproved sharply. "It's only one man. Chris'll handle him okay. Now for the last time drink this medicine!"
"No! P-Please, Nate, I need to ..."
"Are you having difficulties here, Nathan?" another voice intervened. Both men had been too intent on their argument to hear her approach.
"Yes, Mrs Wells, I most certainly am. Vin is refusing to take his medicine."
"Vin, I'm ashamed of you," she scolded. "Here's Nathan doing his best to help you and you're not cooperating."
"B-But, Nettie, Chris is ..."
"Perfectly capable of handling himself," she finished firmly. She turned to the healer. "If you'll hand me the medicine, I'll give it to him while you hold him," she said.
"Nettie, that ain't fair!" Vin complained. People always seemed to gang up on him when he was ill.
"Fairness doesn't come into this, Vin. One way or another you're going to do as Nathan tells you. Your only choice is to drink it yourself or have me feed it to you. Now what's it going to be?"
"I'll drink it," Vin said, miserably, aware this was one battle he had no hope of winning and lacking the strength to prolong the combat further. In truth, he was exhausted merely from arguing with the healer and was having major difficulty ignoring the pain coursing unrelentingly through his shoulder.
A few minutes later, he sank reluctantly into a drugged sleep.
Variations of that little scene were to be played out several times over the subsequent few days, much to Nathan's anger, Nettie's exasperation and Vin's frustration.
+ + + + + + +
Grant Masters was enjoying a quiet beer. At last, he felt he was safe. Some bastard had been trailing him for three days, but the law would never venture into Purgatorio. Just as he began to relax for the first time since the pursuit began, he heard it.
"MASTERS!"
It sounded like someone was shouting out his name, but to his knowledge nobody he knew was in town. He pricked up his ears, but did not quit his seat.
"GRANT MASTERS! I'M CALLIN' YA, YA BASTARD! GET YER CARCASE OUT HERE!"
Shit! There was no doubting it. He was being challenged. Who the fuck could it be? He rose to his feet and walked to the batwings. In the street stood a man clad in black from head to foot, a stranger to him.
No coward, Masters stepped onto the verandah, while demanding, "Who the hell are you?"
"The man who's gonna kill ya. Name's Chris Larabee."
"Th-The gunfighter?" That caught Masters off-guard. Hell, the bastard's speed was legendary. What on earth could such a man want with him? Masters was no slouch with a gun, but killing him could not add one jot to such a man's fearsome reputation.
"Yep."
"What the hell are ya after me for?"
"You made a big mistake, mister, ya hurt someone that I love."
"Huh?" Masters hurriedly reviewed his recent activities. "I ain't hurt no woman."
"No, but a few days back ya were stupid enough to use a brandin' iron on Vin Tanner and then gunned him down."
"That interferin' kid? Was he kin to ya?"
"I've already told ya what my relationship to him is," Larabee retorted, not caring who heard the admission. "Now get out here and go for yer gun or I'll shoot ya where ya stand."
Masters swallowed nervously. He knew he had virtually no chance of surviving the next few minutes, but he had to try. Without moving from the boardwalk he slapped leather. However, his gun had not cleared the holster when Larabee's bullet took him through the heart.
Larabee stood over him. "Yer lucky, mister," he commented to the corpse. "I was tempted to gut-shoot ya and make it slow." Indeed, it had only been the knowledge that Vin Tanner always tried for a clean kill, and would not have approved, that had dissuaded him from his original intent.
Then he turned on his heel and walked to his horse, leaving the body where it lay.
+ + + + + + +
Vin woke once more. He was still in pain, but it seemed more bearable. He decided it was time to try to get up again.
This was going to be his fifth attempt. The others all failed both because of his damnable weakness and the most unreasonably close supervision of Nathan Jackson. On the last occasion he had actually managed to get partially dressed, but a wave of dizziness had caused him to reel into the wall and he had been leaning there, gathering his resources, when the irate healer had entered the room. Simultaneously lecturing and stripping him, the healer had forced him back into bed, closing his ears to all protests.
This time, Vin was determined he was going to succeed. He slowly eased his way out of the bed, trying to keep his shoulder as rigid as possible, and glanced around for his clothes. They were nowhere to be seen. Cursing Jackson as the most likely cause, he decided to check the chest of drawers anyway, since there was always a possibility that Nettie had simply tidied them away. He reached out and tried to pull open the first of the heavy drawers. Unfortunately, the action really required two hands and in the ensuing struggle, he made considerably more noise than he had intended.
In moments, he heard a footfall on the stairs and the door was flung wide to reveal the most irate healer. Jackson entered the room, shutting the door firmly behind him, and berating Tanner as he did so.
Not prepared to submit tamely to Nathan's orders to return to bed, Vin interrupted the tirade to demand his clothes.
Ezra had knocked on the front door just as Nathan hastened upstairs to investigate the odd noises. Nettie had invited him in and had told him to go straight up to see Vin. He was heading for the bedroom door when he heard raised voices.
Nathan had finally lost his patience. He delivered a thundering scold. "Vin Tanner, get back into that bed now and if you try to get up one more time I'll take you over my knee and warm your arse so much that you won't be able to sit for a week, let alone ride that damned horse," he threatened. He was hard put not to shake the recalcitrant tracker as he manhandled him back onto the bed.
Jackson's words filled the gambler with anger. Of course, he was aware just what a contumacious patient Vin was. Further, he knew that not only had the healer no idea that Larabee had disciplined the tracker in that manner for just such a transgression, but also that Jackson would never have carried through with such a threat anyway. However, anything that might upset Vin enraged Ezra. He pushed open the door and announced coldly, "Mr Jackson it is my considered opinion that it would be of the utmost benefit to both Mr Tanner and yourself if you were to take a protracted break from his sickroom. Further, it would afford me the opportunity to enjoy Mr Tanner's society for a while."
"Enjoy? Enjoy!" Nathan echoed incredulously. "You're welcome to him," he snapped, rudely pushing past Standish, "but I cannot see any possible pleasure in it." He stalked out, slamming the door behind him.
Ezra turned to the tracker and his heart contracted at the picture of misery before him. Vin was lying propped against a pillow on the bed, naked except for a pair of rather tattered drawers. He had thick bandages wadding his right shoulder and his right arm was once encased in a sling. His flesh was pale and drawn tightly over his cheekbones and his beautifully cut mouth was vulnerable. "Ez, where have ya been? I's needed ya," he rasped, his voice gravelly with unshed tears.
Standish sat down on the side of the bed and carefully drew Vin into his arms. Tanner burrowed his face into the gambler's shoulder and clung tightly to him with his good arm. Stroking his hand through Vin's tumbling curls, Ezra asked, "What's got you so upset, Vin?"
"Chris has gone after the rustler that escaped and Nate won't let me go to help," Vin exclaimed glumly.
"And just what do you think you could do?" Ezra queried gently. It was the same question that Nathan had asked him several times, but the gambler's tone lacked the harshness of the healer's and Vin did not feel the same flare of resentment that the latter aroused in him.
"I dunno," he admitted dejectedly, "but at least I would be doin' somethin'. Anythin' would be better than just lyin' here. Nate just don't seem to understand. Ez, I's so pleased ya've come at last."
Ezra experienced a twinge of guilt, but knew he should not feel that way. He had desperately wished to accompany Larabee and the others on the day that Joey had brought news of Vin's injury, but Larabee had told him to watch the jail. He had ventured no protest at the arbitrary instruction both because Larabee was clearly in no mood to brook anyone who disputed his instructions and as others might question his desire to undertake a hot and dusty ride when he was normally vocal in his opposition to such excursions. He did not want anyone to realize what Vin meant to him, as to do so would be to give a hostage to fortune as well as potentially embarrassing the tracker.
As soon as Buck and JD had returned, he had hurried to interrogate the sheriff, as by far and away the least likely to realize his true motive, about Vin's well being. Of course, he was very subtle about it, asking various other questions to disguise his true interest, but had nearly lost the plot when he learnt of Vin's branding. He had never felt such murderous rage. He wanted to gut shoot the bastard, to tear him limb from limb, to ... Well, to do whatever he could to ensure the man suffered an excruciatingly painful and prolonged demise.
So he was pleased when JD went on to explain that Larabee was after the man responsible. That meant there was no way that the rustler would fail to pay in full for his crime with such a nemesis on his trail.
Somehow, he still refrained, albeit with considerable difficulty, from rushing to Vin's bedside.
However, after three days, he considered it would appear no more than mannerly to make a visit to ascertain how the invalid was progressing. He had ridden at his usual sedate pace out of Four Corners and then, once out of reach of prying eyes, had surprised Chaucer by opting for all the speed the horse was capable of.
Now, seeing the unhappy tracker, he wished that he had thrust aside his scruples and had paid a much earlier visit. Vin's beautiful sky-blue eyes were dark with the buffetings of pain, anxiety and exhaustion. His wan face stirred the gambler's compassion to match his love.
"Mr Larabee will be all right, Vin," he assured the tracker.
"I just wish I could believe that, Ez," Vin said unhappily.
"I could go after him myself if it would make you feel better," Ezra suggested, surprising himself both with the offer and his own sincerity in making it.
"Thank ya for offerin', Ez, but ya'd prob'ly never find him," Vin replied sadly. "Anyway I guess it'll be all over by now ... one way or the other. Hell, Ez, what if he's ... what if he's ..." He could not finish.
"How could a two-bit outlaw possibly defeat Mr Larabee? I am certain his return to our fair town must be imminent or, at least, he will avail himself of the telegraphic service to inform us as to his progress. May I suggest that you ask Mr Jackson if he will permit you to return to Four Corners so you are able to receive any news instanter."
"He won't let me. He's real mad with me, Ez, I ain't allowed to do anythin'."
"Perhaps if you apologized for any misbehaviour and informed him that you realize he was correct to preventing you following Mr Larabee then ..."
"But he wasn't!" Vin interrupted.
"Was he not? Do you really consider you were in a state of health that made such a pursuit possible?"
"S'pose not," Vin reluctantly conceded, "but I could've tried."
"Yes, I expect you could have, but please endeavour to leave that issue aside. Remember the key thing now is to manipulate Mr Jackson into allowing you to return to the town, so try to pretend some degree of contrition. I believe it would also be efficacious were you to suggest that his prolonged absence from his clinic may be jeopardizing the health some of his other patients."
"Do ya mean other people might need him?"
"I most certainly do! And you could promise to travel by wagon."
"But Peso's here and ..."
"And we are all conversant with Mr Jackson's opinion of the dangers that animal poses to anyone who even approaches him, let alone tries to ride him. No, I think the wagon would be your only hope of gaining his acquiescence so early in your convalescence."
"Yeah, I s'pect ya right, Ez."
"One further thing, I suggest you do not mention that I suggested any of this. For some inexplicable reason, Mr Jackson has, on occasion, shown a considerable amount of totally unwarranted suspicion when I have ventured to propose any scheme."
"He doesn't seem to trust ya, does he? Iffen he knew ya like I do he would."
Privately, Ezra gave leave to doubt that anyone had ever or would ever trust him like Vin did and for good reason. Although he would never do or say anything to hurt Vin, if he could avoid doing so, he was not nearly so scrupulous in dealing with anyone else.
After Ezra had left, Vin waited impatiently for Nathan to return to check on him. To fill in time he went over the arguments Ezra had told him to use.
In the event, he found the healer surprisingly receptive to the idea of moving back into town. Jackson was not so foolish as to believe that the tracker regretted his bad behaviour, but he had been concerned about his other patients. He rightly suspected that the plan, coming as it did so soon after Standish's departure, was the result of collusion between the tracker and the gambler and so wondered if some mischief might be afoot. However, if that was the case, he figured that at least in town he could call upon Josiah, Buck and JD to thwart it.
Further, he had the sudden inspiration of turning Tanner over to Standish. That way, if there was any trouble, it would not be easy for Ezra to evade responsibility. In any case, he knew that the gambler would take good care of Vin and the tracker's well being was still his major consideration no matter how much Tanner might provoke him to wrath.
So the move went ahead.
+ + + + + + +
On his return to Four Corners, Chris Larabee went straight to Nathan's clinic. "How's Vin?"
"Much better. His wounds are healing up well," Jackson replied.
"I guess I'll be headin' out to Miz Wells' place to see him then."
"No need for that, he's back in town. He returned a couple of days ago. He's been staying in Ezra's rooms." He saw Chris start to frown and knowing the likely reason hurried to say, "That was my idea. I wasn't having him sleeping in that draughty wagon or in that damned horse's stall while he was recovering, and I knew Ezra would keep a close eye on him. He did a good job of caring for him before."
"Yeah, I know," Larabee conceded unwillingly.
"Yes, well just you curb your unwarranted jealousy and be grateful others care for Vin too," Nathan admonished gently.
Chris nodded, albeit reluctantly, and headed for the saloon.
As he had anticipated, Ezra Standish was sitting in his favourite chair, idly shuffling a pack of cards. "Standish," Chris greeted.
"May one assume that you have disposed of the vermin?"
"Yeah."
"Good."
"Vin okay?"
The gambler hesitated, pondering his words. He knew Larabee was alluding to Vin's psychological rather than his physical condition. Then he said, "Mr Tanner is definitely better than he was. At least, I believe, he is ready to communicate with you once more. It was his own decision to return to town. Once he learnt that you had gone in pursuit of the remaining miscreant, he became quite agitated and Mr Jackson had considerable difficulty in preventing him from following you."
That information heartened the gunslinger, but after all that had happened, he was not going to take Vin for granted again, so he asked, "Do you think he will want to see me?"
"I am certain of it. He insisted on returning to town, so that he would be more likely to hear news of you."
"Thank ya, Ezra, I'm beholden to ya for lookin' after him ... no matter yer motives," he could not resist adding. He smiled, to take the sting out of the final phrase, and held out a hand and the gambler took it.
Then Larabee headed for the boarding house.
Vin was sitting in an armchair looking at a book of daguerreotypes Ezra had borrowed to entertain him. He heard the tread of boots on the stairs. "Chris!" he thought, his heart leaping wildly. He had been so worried. His impulse was to rush to the door, open it and fling himself into Larabee's arms. However, something held him back. He had had time for a lot of thinking while he was laid up and he knew that it was vital for any future relationship that he was to have with the gunslinger that they go slow and careful at first to avoid the pitfalls they had previously encountered.
"Come in, Chris," he called. "The doors not locked."
Larabee had been about to knock and he was startled by the call. 'Hell, how does Tanner do that?' he wondered. The man was nothing short of spooky at times.
He entered the room and looked straight at the tracker, who had risen to his feet. "Hello, cowboy," he said, his eyes ranging anxiously over the beloved form. "Yer lookin' better."
"'M feelin' better too."
Larabee shuffled his feet awkwardly. Hell, he did not know how best to proceed. Guilt, desire, love! His emotions were a churning maelstrom. He hoped that he had a second chance, but realized that a wrong step could be fatal.
Fortunately, the normally taciturn tracker broke the difficult silence. "Did ya get him?"
"Yeah."
"Where'd ya find him?"
"Purgatorio."
"Damn it, Larabee, ya oughtn't to have gone there without someone to watch yer back."
"Vin, I'd have followed that bastard to hell itself and the devil himself couldn't have stopped me."
"Reckon ya'd have glared him down iffen he'd dared to try."
"Reckon."
Another awkward pause followed. Both looked at each other. Vin could see the love and longing in the emerald eyes, but his own were carefully shuttered. He did not want Larabee to read the like emotions there ... not yet anyway.
Finally Larabee broke the silence. "Vin, I wondered if ... could we ... I promise ya I will never ..."
The tracker cut him off. "No!" he said firmly.
"Please, Vin, I'm sorry ... more sorry than ya can know."
"I know yer sorry, cowboy, but will ya remember that the next time I do somethin' ya don't like?"
"I will! Please, Vin, I promise I will. I can't stand bein' without ya."
"And I love ya too, Chris, but ... but I ain't sure. I think we oughta go slower. D'ya think we could try just bein' friends for a spell?"
Larabee's heart leapt and he nodded. It was far less than he wanted, but considerably more than he could have hoped for and infinitely more than he felt that he deserved. "Yer callin' the shots, Vin. If it means ya'll stay, I'm willin' to try anythin'."
"Thank ya, cowboy," the tracker said.
The gunslinger looked at him. "Did ya just call me cowboy?" he asked menacingly.
Then Larabee grinned and Vin smiled back. It was good to be home.
THE END
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