PART 1
Chris didn't rightly know how long they'd been walking, probably close to an hour and they were still too far from Four Corners to make it before dark. The snow that had started as a light flurry was now coming down so hard he could barely make out the man in the buckskin coat as he carefully lead his mount along the icy trail.
"Chris!" Chris squinted against the frosty assault and looked up, his eyes following the tracker's outstretched arm. "Looks big enough to shelter the horses some too!"
He only saw a wall of rock, but he trusted the man enough to believe it would be an adequate shelter until the storm blew over. Chris nodded and moved closer, a sharp tug from the lead in his hand and a panicked whinny made him whirl around.
A shadow of dark muscle blocked his view and he reached up to lay a calming hand on the horse's muzzle. The black tossed his head, flaring his nostrils and sidestepping wildly from some unseen danger and slammed his hip into Peso's flank.
Chris heard Vin's cry of alarm and looked up as his friend's horse fought to regain his footing on the slippery rocks. Chris reached for the panicked animal's reins, hoping to give Vin enough time to get out of harms way, but the slope held a fine sheen of ice and neither man nor beast could keep their feet planted. Vin was pulled to the hard earth along with his terrified mount.
Chris tried in vain to get between the flailing hooves and his friend, but he couldn't stop his feet from sliding out from under him either.
"VIN!" Chris yelled as his view of the tracker replaced by a sea of white. Chris crawled on his knees toward the lingering cries of agony and grasped the man's heavy coat and pulled. Vin screamed, but Chris knew he'd done the right thing as Peso's heaving breaths and clumsy struggles confirmed his belief that Vin was seconds away from being stomped to death.
Vin's screams matched the mournful howl of the wind, yet Chris continued to drag himself and his wounded friend toward the shelter of the cave.
+ + + + + + +
Vin wanted to tell Chris to leave him alone, just let him lie there in the snow so his body could go numb and maybe he wouldn't feel the crushing weight in his side. Each movement heightened his senses and he felt bones rubbing against bone, blood gushing out in spurts every time he was pulled forward.
"Chris, stop." He barely heard his own words and he knew they never reached Chris, so he closed his eyes and let go, praying for unconsciousness or death, whichever would give him the relief he so desperately craved. Neither seemed to want to claim him and he inwardly screamed again.
+ + + + + + +
After what seemed like an eternity, Chris finished dragging his friend into the comparative warmth of the small cave. It was tight, but he could sit without being forced to hunch over and he was relieved to see Vin could comfortably stretch out inside. He wanted to build a fire, but his first task was to determine Vin's injuries and get him warm enough to survive the night.
Chris yanked off his gloves and quickly pulled back Vin's coat and unbuttoned the layers of flannel. Vin jerked and gasped and tried to push Chris' hands away from his bare chest.
"Cold." Vin wheezed and Chris almost laughed.
"I 'spect they are, Vin, but I gotta see where you're hurt."
Chris rubbed his hands together vigorously, trying to warm them up a few degrees before examining him further. Vin squeezed his eyes shut and Chris felt the younger man tense again beneath his touch, then relax slightly.
Chris peeled back the tracker's bloody shirt from his right side, the material stuck, then reluctantly released revealing the gaping wound along his ribs. Vin hissed through his teeth and tried to move away, but Chris placed his left hand on Vin's stomach and held him fast.
"Hang on." Chris concentrated on the wound, not the pain he knew would be etched in his friend's face. He had a job to do, no time for sentiment. Right now he had to do what it took to save Vin's life. He finished stripping away the cloth, and mentally thanking Nathan for packing a few medical supplies before they left town.
Ugly patterns of purple and black marred the smooth white flesh along Vin's chest and belly and Chris wondered if he would be able to do enough. He could sew up the deep gash along his friend's ribcage, keep him from freezing to death, but other than that, Chris wasn't sure what else he could do for him.
"I'll be right back." Chris didn't hear a reply, he was already back out in the storm and was relieved to see both horses huddled together near the entrance. He briefly checked over Peso, but knew he didn't have time to spend on the animal's condition right now. He grabbed saddlebags and blankets and made his way back into the cave.
PART 2
Chris ducked into the small opening and quickly emptied the contents of his saddlebag on the ground. He glanced at Vin, barely able to see his friend's face in the waning light. Chris took out a spare shirt and folded it into fourths and pressed it into Vin's side, inwardly wincing at the low moan emitting from his friend's throat. Chris gingerly rolled Vin over and situated his bedroll beneath him, before laying him flat and wrapping the edges around his shivering body.
"You still with me?" Chris' voice shook from cold and adrenaline, but he couldn't help but grin as the tracker nodded weakly. "Just hold that as tight as you can, gotta get a fire goin'."
"I ain't goin' no where." Vin's reply was low and raspy, but at least he still had some fight left in him.
Chris pulled his coat tighter around his neck and pushed himself out of the shelter.
+ + + + + + +
Vin lay as still as he could, clutching the bloody rag to his side as the frigidness of the earth crept through the bedroll and into his back and hips, quickly spreading into every inch of his body. His earlier wish to be numbed by the cold was unfortunately coming to pass; yet, it didn't offer the relief he'd hoped for. Each shiver that ran down his lean frame made him grind his teeth from the agony.
He knew from experience his injuries were bad. The cut was deep and hurt like hell, but it was the dull, throbbing ache in his belly and lower back that had him worried. A part of him thought about how easy it'd be to just let go, let his body escape from the suffering, let his mind rest from the things he'd seen, things he'd done and the ever present weariness of a man with a price on his head.
A sharp stab of pain exploded in his ribs and he gasped and reflexively jerked away, but only succeeded in increasing the torment. Warmth soaked the cloth and seeped through his fingers and his head spun as he felt his life force drain away. Pass out, damn ya! he yelled to himself, closing his eyes tight; but years of survival instinct had trained him against it.
"Keep alert, no matter what. Else you won't live to fight another day." Who the hell told him that? He couldn't remember, but he was young, real young, when those words were etched into his impressionable mind. Apparently they'd stuck for good.
He opened his eyes, but it was so dark, Vin was afraid he might have gone blind. Soft curses made him turn his head to the sound and he was relieved to see the faint glow of a fire. Chris' shadow danced as the flames began to grow higher and the smell of damp wood filled the small space.
Vin could hear Chris rummaging through the things he'd dumped on the floor and he let his eyes drift shut again. He felt the cloth being removed from his fingers and heard Chris' worried tone echo off the rock walls.
"Sorry, pard, but I gotta do this."
Vin vaguely realized what he meant, yet he still wasn't prepared for the scalding pain as the liquid filled his open wound. He jerked violently and screamed. His body convulsed, each scorching wave of agony bringing on another and he screamed again.
"Easy, Vin." He felt strong hands gripping his shoulders, heard the calming tone of Chris' voice, but the pain was in control and he continued to struggle against his friend's attempts at comfort.
"Settle down, settle down." Exhaustion finally won the hard-fought battle his body waged with itself and he collapsed onto the bedroll.
+ + + + + + +
God, he hated this.
Chris took a quick swig before he replaced the cork in the whiskey bottle then wiped the sweat from his forehead. Vin's hissing breaths were returning to a more normal rhythm, but the tracker's cries of torment still reverberated in Chris' head. Yep, he hated this. Still, he mentally thanked Nathan again as he held the needle over the open flame.
"Vin." Chris leaned over his friend and looked into his pain-glazed eyes. "You gotta hold still for me, all right?"
Vin's gaze settled on the steel instrument in the older man's hand and he closed his eyes, a weak smile forming on his lips. "Just make it quick, pard."
"Won't be fancy like Nathan's, but I'll try and be fast about it."
Vin nodded and swallowed hard as Chris shifted his position to get more light from the fire. He felt the tracker's muscles clench as he made the first shaky pass, hesitating when Vin jerked and groaned softly.
"Just hurry up and do it." Vin tensed and gritted his teeth and Chris turned his focus back to stitching, trying to ignore the pain-filled gasps as the needle slid into flesh and back out, over and over again, until he'd finally concealed the white shadow of bone exposed with each inhale the tracker took.
Finished! Chris let out the breath he'd been holding and gently patted Vin's shoulder. "Ok, it's over. Good as new."
"Doubt that." Vin whispered as he fought to calm his rapid breathing.
Chris pushed the clean side of the shirt back into Vin's side and began to rebutton the open layers of clothing.
"Hurt anywhere else?" Chris asked as he wrapped the blanket tightly around Vin's shivering body,
"Naw. Not like I'd tell ya anyways."
"Suit yourself." Chris laughed as he threw his own bedroll across Vin's bundled form. "Here." Chris picked up his canteen and lifted Vin's head slightly. Vin drank greedily and Chris had to pull it away before he choked.
Chris took a swallow himself then leaned back against the cold wall, pressing his lower body close to Vin and covering his legs with the bedroll.
"Get some rest, now." Chris poked at the fire with a stick. "Come morning, we're goin' home."
PART 3
Chris jolted awake as a bolt of cold fear ran down the length of his body. He sat upright, the blanket he'd draped across his chest fell into his lap. The sudden absence of warmth sent goosebumps running along his flesh like stampeding cattle. The musty smell of the cave and the stiffness in his bones served as a quick reminder of why he was here instead of his own warm bed.
A blanket of white lay sprinkled over the ashes of the dead fire. The brilliance of the morning sun reached through the mouth of the cave, sending a beacon along the rocky floor. Chris leaned over his sleeping friend and placed a palm on Vin's cheek.
Vin groaned and pulled from the icy touch and Chris felt tremors running through the tracker's fevered body.
"Shhh, it's all right, it's me." Chris moved his hand along the side of his friend's sweat-slick face and brushed the wet hair off his forehead. "Just take it easy, Vin. You feelin' any better?"
Chris knew the answer before he'd asked it, but he didn't know exactly what else to say. He let out a frustrated sigh as Vin slowly shook his head. "Can't remember…when I felt this bad."
Vin's muscles tightened as Chris pulled back the blankets and clothing to check the wounds.
"Hang on, I need to see how you're doin'."
Chris slowly peeled away a corner of the blood-caked shirt and Vin gasped as the adhered material pulled at the stitches. "Sorry."
Chris looked into his friend's face. He frowned with worry at the sight of oily sweat beading along Vin's forehead and upper lip, despite the frigidness of the cave. Vin nodded slightly then closed his eyes. Chris resumed his exam and positioned himself so the beam of sunlight shone across Vin's battered body.
Chris soaked the shirt with water from his canteen and gently cleaned the edges of the deep gash. His heart skipped when he noticed the puffy redness along the row of stitches and the deep blackish bruises dotting the younger man's ribs and lower belly. He drew the damp cloth along the tracker's chest and down his stomach, stopping near the hollow of his navel.
Chris knew a little about doctoring, it was practically a necessity for a man in these parts who traveled alone. He knew what a bleeding belly looked and felt like too. He remembered seeing a rancher get kicked in the stomach by an unbroken colt once; watched as he rolled on the ground while his mid-section expanded like he'd swallowed a watermelon whole. Thank God he wasn't seeing that now. He gingerly touched a deep bruise near Vin's navel, causing the tracker to suck in a pain-filled gasp.
"Oh, God, Chris! Don't." Vin brought up a weak hand and tried to push him away.
Chris ignored Vin's pleas. He had to know, for both of them. Chris slid his hand lower on Vin's stomach, just under the waistband of his pants and pushed. Vin's voice was hoarse and weak, but he howled in agony and tried to curl into himself, but he lacked the strength. Chris quickly moved his hand higher on the tracker's midsection and pushed in the tender flesh there too.
"No!" Vin screamed and his legs flailed as his arms wrapped protectively around his middle.
"Ok, Vin, I just needed to check somethin'." Chris finally let out the breath he'd been holding. He hadn't felt any of the rigidness he knew meant internal bleeding. At least that was one good sign.
Chris gently pushed Vin back onto the pallet and replaced the makeshift bandage. He rebuttoned Vin's shirt quickly, knowing he needed to keep him as warm as possible. He also knew he wanted to get Vin back into town and let Nathan figure out what to do next.
"Just rest, I'm gonna get the horses and we'll get movin'."
"Best you go on back…bring Nathan."
Chris shook his head. "Can't leave ya here. That storm probably stopped the man we're trackin', just like it did us. Probably hidin' out near here."
"He's runnin' Chris, ain't gonna be lookin' for us."
"Maybe. Maybe not."
Vin let out a labored breath and nodded. "Well, hurry up then, I ain't gettin' any younger."
Chris knew Vin was desperately trying to downplay his situation. Still he picked up on the subtle quiver of weakness in the man's voice and saw the flash of fear and pain in his eyes before he'd shut them tight. Chris rested his hand on his friend's shoulder and squeezed gently -- a silent show of strength and affection he hoped flowed from his soul and into Vin's.
Vin opened his eyes and smiled slightly and Chris knew he had conveyed his message.
Chris grinned back and gave him a final pat as he hoisted himself from the opening and into daylight.
+ + + + + + +
Vin didn't want to argue, but there was no way he could ride. It hurt like the devil to even take a deep breath. He sure wouldn't make it bouncing in a saddle.
His thoughts were interrupted by a muffled yell from outside the entrance and he instinctively reached for his weapon. A sharp stab of pain through his gut, followed quickly by a wave of nausea, stopped him cold. Deep grunts and the sound of fists striking flesh made him move anyway. He pushed the blankets piled on top of him away and tried to get up, but his body rebelled and refused to allow him the simple luxury of bending forward. Desperate and frustrated, he gripped his gun in one hand and dragged himself across the rocky ground.
The horses stomped and whinnied nervously, blocking his view and his aim. Vin swallowed hard and tried to focus, tried to push the pain to the back of his mind. He caught glimpses of the struggle Chris was engaged in and brought up his gun one handed. Gritting his teeth with determination, he knew he'd probably only get one chance.
He watched as Chris landed one punch, his assailant the next. Two silhouettes trading blows, snow flying from their black coats and Vin couldn't no longer be sure who was who. Damn, damn He let his weapon drop, letting his wobbly arm rest until he knew what he was aiming at.
Then he saw Chris fall.
Apparently the outlaw was too close to shoot him, but close enough to use the butt of his gun. Vin knew who fell. Knew the profile of the man they all considered their leader, their mentor and friend, knew it in the dark, in the rain and in the blinding brightness of the snow. Vin raised the mare's leg in shaky hands, fighting his own battle to stay conscious long enough to protect Chris.
A deafening roar assaulted Vin's senses as he fired his gun, then let the weapon fall. He knew he'd hit the outlaw, and he saw Chris stumble to his feet. Breathing a painful sigh of relief he finally allowed himself to collapse. He could still hear the ringing in his ears as the blast echoed through the small cave. It had sounded like a damn cannon.
Chris' face blurred in front of him. Bloody and exhausted, but alive. Vin tried to laugh, but screamed instead as his protesting muscles sent shock waves through his thin frame. He closed his eyes and felt trembling hands wiping the hair from his face.
"Thanks, pard." Chris' voice was quiet, but full of emotion he was barely in control of.
"Ok, solves that…problem." Vin tried to work up enough moisture in his mouth to speak again. "I ain't gonna be ridin' nowhere like this. You have to go…alone."
"I can't leave ya. If you're too hurt to ride, you're too bad off to be left here by yourself."
"Don't….have a ….choice." Vin was finding it harder and harder to make the words come out, but he had to make Chris understand. He knew how he'd feel in the same boots. He knew he'd be eaten up with guilt at having to leave any of his friends hurt, and defenseless. Almost as much as he would if he had to sit by and watch one of them die. Vin realized his muddled brain was running in circles, refusing to let him stop on a coherent thought. But one notion remained and he knew it was the reason he didn't want his friend close right now, didn't want him taking care of him; he didn't want Chris to see him die.
PART 4
Chris finished setting up everything Vin might need within arm's reach. Gun, matches, water, whiskey. He still didn't feel comfortable about leaving him, but the tracker was right. Not much choice.
He laid a hand across Vin's forehead, alarmed to feel the heat still radiating from his skin. Vin flinched under his touch and moaned slightly.
"Vin, it's all right. Just checkin' on ya."
The sharpshooter slowly opened his eyes and Chris watched as he tried to focus. "I need to see if you pulled them stitches out ‘fore I head out to get Nathan."
Vin groaned and Chris hated he had to reawaken the pain he knew would come with it. The tracker shivered as his shirt was opened, exposing his bare chest to the frigidness of the cave. Chris soaked the cloth in whiskey and pressed it tight against the wound. Vin shut his eyes tight and bit his lower lip as Chris continued to soak up the fresh blood oozing between the undisturbed row of stitches. He wasn't an expert at this doctoring thing, but he was getting better at it. Unfortunately that was another thing he seemed to have no choice in.
Vin began to struggle and Chris tempered his touch, but kept at his task, holding his weaken friend easily with his other hand.
"Hang on, hang on." Chris tried to ignore the pitiful whimpers and do what had to be done. He wanted Vin to survive this and if it took hurting him for a few minutes then so be it. Vin was tough, he knew as well as Chris did that it was an evil necessity.
"Next time…tell Nathan…to pack…a hammer so ‘s you can knock me out." Vin's words pushed out between heaving breaths, but Chris had to grin at his attempt to lighten the situation.
"Hell, I'd a used the butt of my Winchester if you'd just told me."
"Next time, pard. Next time." Vin's head lolled to the side as his last bit of strength left his body.
Chris finished dressing the wound and pulled the blanket tight around his shivering friend. Vin grasped at Chris' sleeve and tried to pull him close.
"Take my horse with ya." Vin said, his voice soft and low as a sigh.
Chris nodded. He knew the animal would share his owner's eagerness to get him into the warm shelter of the livery. "I was plannin' to. Ain't no use to ya right now anyway."
Vin nodded slowly and closed his eyes. "What'd ya do with the body?"
Chris was a bit shocked that was on Vin's mind right now. He figured Vin would think he dreamed it or not remember it at all. "Stowed him in a snowdrift at the foot of the hill. Figured nothing'll get to him ‘til we can get back."
"Not in this weather anyway." Vin sighed heavily and rested his arm on his wounded side.
Chris wished he could do more. Right now he felt like he was abandoning him, but he had to push those thoughts aside. The decision had been made and the sooner he followed through the sooner Vin would be in Nathan's care.
"Rest, pard. I'll be back before nightfall." Chris gently put Vin's exposed arm underneath the flannel and tucked the blanket tight beneath his chin. "Betcha won't even realize I'm gone."
Vin opened his eyes slightly then let them close again. Chris hoped that was the truth and he'd sleep until he returned. All he could do now was hope.
+ + + + + + +
Calvin Tucker wasn't a mountain man. He'd spent the last 10 or so of his 48 winters indoors next to a roaring fire eating his wife's cooking and sleeping in a warm bed. He was too damn old to be out in weather like this. He felt the throbbing ache increase in his joints with each step his horse took in the deep snow.
Yet, the reason for his excursion two hours from home warmed him to his soul. He was meeting his son, Cal Jr. The young man had telegraphed saying he'd been pardoned and he wanted to come home. Five years he'd been in that hellhole of a prison outside of Phoenix; didn't even get a chance to say goodbye to his ma before she died last month. Now he was coming back, well, he wasn't coming home exactly, just passing through on his way to Mexico is what the telegram said. Calvin couldn't figure out why C.J. didn't come live with him. He'd hoped that'd be something he could talk him into when they met up.
He saw someone riding away from him as he topped the hill. At first he thought it was C.J., and called out to the rider. He watched closer, the man was too tall and his riding style too rigid to be his son. Another chill ran through his already frozen body as he watched the gunman disappear into the trees. C.J. said he'd meet him in these hills and he knew he'd wait. He was a good boy.
Cal shivered again as he scanned the canyon, his eyes falling on an opening in the rocks; a thin veil of smoke rising up from inside. A smile widened across his face as he figured he'd found his son. Urging his mount onward, he could hardly contain his excitement.
"C.J.!" Calvin swung down from his horse, barely staying upright from the numbness in his legs. He stumbled toward the cave, dropping on his knees and crawling inside.
He stopped short when he realized the man lying on the makeshift pallet wasn't C.J.
"Uh, sorry, mister." He started to back out, but noticed the slowness in the man's movements and the slurred attempt at words.
Calvin stopped, moving away from the entrance to let the sunlight stream inside. This man was sick, real sick from the looks of him. Calvin moved closer and put a cold hand on the man's forehead, pulling it away quickly when the poor soul groaned and shuddered.
"Sorry, young fella." C.J. momentarily forgotten as Cal looked into the pain-filled eyes looking up at him. "Anything I can do for ya?"
He wasn't sure the man understood him until he nodded his head slightly. "Don't leave."
Calvin's heart went out to the injured man. The memory of the black-clad figure he'd seen riding off in the snow flashed through his mind and he wondered what role he'd played. He could be going for help, then again, he could have been the one that hurt him. Either way, Calvin didn't want to leave now.
He leaned in closer and gently touched the young man's wet hair. "What's your name son?"
"Vin…"
It seemed to take all the strength he had to utter the short name and Calvin didn't push any further.
"Ok, Vin, my name's Calvin. I'll sit a spell with ya. That your friend I saw riding off a few minutes ago?"
"Uh huh." Vin seemed to relax a little and Cal settled back to enjoy the warmth of the fire and wait. He wasn't totally convinced Vin knew what the hell he was saying, so he cradled his rifle on his lap and decided to keep an eye out just in case.
+ + + + + + +
Vin wasn't sure if Calvin was real or part of the dreamy haze he found himself floating in most of the time. He liked the haze much better anyway; didn't matter what was or wasn't real as long as the pain stayed somewhere below his level of consciousness. Of course it always came back with a vengeance, reminding him that he hadn't escaped its powerful grasp afterall.
It was those times of pure torture that let him know Calvin was genuine. The older man's soothing voice calmed him; just knowing he wasn't alone made the pain seem easier to tolerate. Panic and overwhelming feelings of terror invaded his moments of peace and he tried not to cry out, yet he knew he did anyway. The confusion in his brain became almost as unbearable as the physical agony and he longed to just escape into the darkness that teased him with promises of relief. But he just couldn't seem to make it there.
He felt cold wetness against his fevered skin as Calvin (he assumed) wiped his face.
"What are you doing out here, son?"
Vin swallowed hard and tried to will his tongue to work. "Trackin' a fugitive."
"Did he shoot you? Is that how you got hurt?"
Images flooded Vin's fevered mind and he squeezed his eyes tight against the memory. "Shot him."
Silence echoed through the small cave and Vin wondered if the old man was worried about the outlaw coming back or maybe he was bothered by the fact he was helping a killer. He opened his eyes and saw Cal staring at the fire, his head turned too far to the side for Vin to be able to read his expression.
"He escaped..Phoenix prison; didn't have a choice."
Vin saw the man's hunched shoulders stiffen, but he remained silent. Vin couldn't think of anything else to explain his actions so he saved his strength. He figured Cal would be gone by the time he woke up again. Didn't blame him. Howdy, my name's Vin and oh, I 's just out killin' people. He'd have to remember not to bring that up first thing next time.
PART 5
At Vin's words, Cal felt his insides turn as cold as the tips of his fingers. Surely he wasn't talking about C.J.; had to be somebody else they were tracking. It was all just a coincidence that they ended up in the same place at the same time.
Cal's mind raced with a thousand questions, but he couldn't seem to voice any of them. He turned to look at Vin, the young man's eyes were closed again in a restless slumber. He hadn't noticed anyone riding with the black-clad gunman he'd seen earlier, but he was leading another horse. Cal racked his brain to remember if anything, or anyone, could have been tied on the saddle, but he honestly hadn't noticed. Damn.
He had to find his son. The sudden urgency forced him to push away from the warmth and back into the painful sluggishness of the snow. Cal wished he'd learned more about tracking, but he was a rancher. The only thing he could trail with any success was a coyote or a mountain lion. He studied the flattened tracks in the snow, but he couldn't distinguish between footprints and horse hooves and whether the dark among the white was congealed blood or just the muddy ground beneath.
Cal trudged through the snowdrifts toward the top of the bluff, blindly heading for a lookout point. He felt the panic rising in his soul as he screamed C.J.'s name across the canyon and only the roaring echo of his own voice answered him.
Stinging tears welled in his eyes and turned his vision to a white blur. C.J. wouldn't lie to him. He wouldn't have escaped, he was a good boy, loved his momma, never gave them a minute's worth of trouble. He just got in with the wrong group of men that one time and let himself be led astray. Just that one mistake and fate changed all their lives. It wasn't C.J.'s fault.
A stab of guilt pierced through Cal's heart and he wondered, that if he'd been a better father maybe C.J. would have known better than to hang around the likes of those Sandlin boys. He knew he'd been too focused on starting the ranch when his son was small, besides, raising kids was a mother's job, the father had to be the provider. Least that's what he told himself to keep the thoughts of blame at bay.
Cal shook himself out of his reverie. No time for this now. Right or wrong what's done is done, no use crying over it. His only concern now was to find C.J.
+ + + + + + +
Chris cursed the slowness of the wagon following him. He wanted desperately to ride ahead but he didn't want to leave J.D. behind to maneuver through the jagged hillside. He had enough to worry about without wondering if the kid would get lost or drive the wagon too close to an outcropping of rocks and tear the wheels off. Not that he didn't trust him, hell, J.D.'d more than proven himself over and over. Yet Chris was reluctant to leave him until they'd reached the clearing where he knew J.D. would be all right the rest of the way.
"How much further?" Nathan's booming voice sliced through Chris' thoughts and he turned to face the healer.
"Just over that ridge." He knew Nathan was just as eager to get to the injured tracker, his worry filtering through his words.
"It's gettin' dark Chris, we can't take him back through these trails at night."
"I know. Didn't want him to hafta spend another night out in this."
"We'll do what we can, Chris."
The small party emerged from the trail and Chris saw the rim of the canyon looming ahead. He pulled back and let his horse trot next to J.D.
"He's just beyond those rocks, you'll have to go around and come up from the north side. You'll be all right?"
"Sure, Chris, I can do this." J.D. nodded eagerly.
"Don't get careless, J.D. Make sure you get there in one piece."
"I won't let you down." J.D. grinned widely and slapped down the reins, sending the team into a gallop.
Chris looked over at Nathan who shook his head.
"Dang fool, kid." Chris said as he spurred his horse toward the rocks.
+ + + + + + +
The warming stream of afternoon sun began to disappear behind the trees as the day changed into evening. Cal continued his watch. His butt had gone numb from the cold rocks, but he didn't want to give up. He knew if C.J. were alive, he would show up.
hat's the thought that kept him going; it was also the one that had him terrified. Maybe he was lying hurt somewhere just out of sight, freezing to death in the deep snow and he'd never find him in time. He'd searched all around the canyon for over three hours, but no sign of his son.
Now, he watched and waited, but Vin's fevered words continued to haunt him. What if he was telling the truth? If he had shot C.J. then he surely would have found him, unless the other man took him. Calvin's head hurt with the possibilities and he longed to just find C.J. and leave. Hell, he'd go to Mexico with him if he had to. So what if he did escape from prison? He never should have been there in the first place.
Yet, the nagging question remained: where was C.J.?
Two figures on horseback rode into his line of sight and he stood up. The same man in black and another rider he couldn't make out. He just knew he was much too large to be C.J. Now what?
Cal's mind raced, but he knew one thing. The black-clad gunman more than likely had the answer to his question.
The old man raced back down the slope as quickly as his aching legs would allow. He had a feeling Vin was a lawman, which meant his friends probably were too. The more he thought about it the more he convinced himself the man in black had taken C.J. with him; he just hadn't see him. And he doubted he would just let C.J. go again. Not if they'd thought he'd escaped in the first place.
Calvin made up his mind quickly. He'd have to use the injured man as a bargaining tool. Didn't want to, but more than likely he'd probably have to.
The rancher crawled inside the cave and restoked the dying fire. He looked over at Vin as he rested quietly. Too quietly maybe. Cal began to wonder if Vin was even still alive, it'd been two hours or more since he'd checked on him. He lay a shaky hand on the tracker's forehead.
Calvin felt the warmth spread through his freezing palm before Vin moaned and pulled away. The old man closed his eyes and let out a silent prayer of thanks. He really didn't want to see anyone die and he'd even grown a bit attached to the man he'd been taking care of. Cal hated to keep him from his friends, but it seemed like the only way until he'd gotten what he came for.
Cal flexed his hands around his gun, trying to urge the circulation back into his fingers. The sound of muffled hoof beats vibrated the ground and Cal sat upright, staying tight against the rock while swinging his rifle at the small entrance. He heard voices just outside and tried to figure out what they were saying over the pounding in his skull and he waited for someone to poke their head in his line of sight. The burning desire to rescue his son his only priority now.
PART 6
Chris stopped short. Something didn't feel right.
Dread gnawed at his gut as he saw the still outline of his friend in the firelight, then his eye caught a glimpse of the dark shadow off to the left. Chris pulled back as he realized it was the muzzle of a shotgun. What the hell?
"Come out of there." Chris yelled as he pressed himself against the safety of the rock, drawing his own Colt as he moved. He quickly motioned for Nathan to get behind him, the black man's eyes full of confusion.
"I don't want no trouble. I just want to know where my son is." The man's tone quivered with age and deep sorrow and Chris could read the desperation in his words.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Mister." Chris called out to the man, his own voice reflecting the fear and anger he felt in his soul.
"Calvin Tucker, Jr. Your friend here said he shot him – now where is he?"
Chris peered over his shoulder at Nathan, hoping he'd have some suggestion because he wasn't sure what to tell the man. He sure as hell wasn't going to reveal to a despondent lunatic with a gun that the man he's sitting with is the reason his son was in a shallow grave a few yards away.
"Tell him you took him to Flatland." Nathan whispered and Chris nodded, understanding what his friend was driving at.
"Your son's in jail in Flatland. I got no more say over what happens to him."
Silence. Chris held his breath, waiting.
"Your friend's bad off, but he's still alive." The man's voice echoed through the confines of the cave and out into the vastness of the canyon, sending a rush of chills along Chris' spine. "You bring me my son and I'll let you see to your friend. Fair trade."
Chris felt a brief rush of sympathy for the old man. There was nothing sadder than a distraught father; nothing more dangerous or unpredictable either. He'd rather deal with a full-grown grizzly than try and stop a parent from protecting their child.
Then his thoughts went to Vin and the anger returned. He ground his teeth and fought the urge to just rush the man and knock some sense into him. "Mister, we ain't GOT your son and my friend needs a doctor right NOW."
Chris felt Nathan tense behind him.
"Then you go and bring him here. I don't want this boy to die, but I won't have nothing to bargain with if I let you tend to him now."
"If he dies…" Chris' voice trailed off, but his meaning as icy as the snow that coated his boots.
"Guess you'd better get going then. Flatland's not more than an hour's ride."
"Let me give you something for him." Before Chris could react, the healer had stepped boldly into the open, searching through his pack.
"Don't try coming in here!" The old man's voice rose slightly, but his tone was deadly serious. "I'll shoot you all."
Chris watched the entrance, his gun trained toward the opening in case he got a clear shot. Nathan's usually adept fingers fumbled awkwardly as he pulled a small pouch of his infamous tea out and held it out in front of him.
"I'm just gonna give you some of this. Mix it with water and heat it up a bit." Nathan kept his voice steady as he stepped closer, but Chris could tell he was nervous.
"That's far enough. Throw it in."
"Get him to drink as much as you can." Nathan tossed the bag inside the cavern then backed away, his hands held up to show he wasn't going for a weapon.
Nathan let out a deep sigh as he scrambled up behind Chris again and leaned wearily against the rocks.
"Whatta we gonna do? He ain't bluffin'."
"I don't know. Right now you need to meet J.D. on the trail, keep him from running headlong into this mess. I'll think on it."
Nathan nodded and set out. Chris knew they didn't have much time. Vin needed help and the only thing the old man holding him captive wanted in return was his dead son resurrected; and that was something not even Chris Larabee could accomplish.
+ + + + + + +
Cal emptied the contents of the pouch into a tin cup and poured it half full of water from his canteen. He sniffed the mixture and drew back quickly, anything that smelled that bad would definitely either cure the injured man or kill him that's for sure.
He wasn't sure what was in the potion, but he was willing to try anything. Cal truly hoped Vin would be all right, but he seemed to be growing worse. The young man spent less and less time in slumber, instead he was either rambling incoherently or crying out in pain.
Cal pulled a knife from his boot and used it to balance the cup over the fire. He said a silent thank you to the Lord above that C.J. was still alive. He was sure the lawman would bring him back; he could tell they wanted to take care of their friend bad enough to give in. Calvin smiled at the thought and dipped his pinkie finger into the cup. Barely warm. He held it there a bit longer, then placed his other hand on Vin's sweat-covered forehead.
Vin cried out weakly. His eyes flew open and he stared at the older man, grabbing his sleeve and almost causing him to spill the contents of the cup.
"Easy." Cal carefully set down the drink and turned his attention to Vin. The young man shook as a chill ran through his body and he cried out again, louder this time. "Shhhh, it's all right."
Cal knew Vin was hurting something terrible and he wished he could just walk away and let his friends help him. Apparently that black man knew a little about doctoring, which was a whole heap more than he did that's for sure. Vin's weakening cries were tearing at his heart and he was running out of ways to comfort the dying man. At least Cal figured he was probably dying, chastising himself for the sudden wish he'd at least hold on long enough for them to get back with C.J.
He poured a handful of cold water into the cloth he'd been using and gently drew it across Vin's fever flushed cheeks. "Here, your friend sent you something that'll help."
Cal wrapped his fingers around the cup. The medicine was lukewarm at best, better than cold he guessed, but that'd have to do. Vin needed it now. He placed his arm underneath the man's neck, cradling his head and easing him upright enough to sip from the cup.
Vin swallowed greedily before he realized it wasn't water and he gagged. "I can only imagine how bad that is, son, but you got to get some more down you." Cal paused a second, then pressed the cup to his lips again. This time Vin was either too weak to rebel or had understood his words because he continued to drink.
"Good boy." Cal set the medicine aside and eased him back down, praying it would give them both a few hours of peace.
+ + + + + + +
Nathan had to be there. Nobody else would make him drink that God-awful stump water. Vin was so tired, but the pain refused to let him rest. He tried to fight it, push it out of his mind, but it always pulled him back into its powerful clutches; cradled him and rocked him into an exhausted slumber of agony.
And the dreams. God the dreams were almost as bad as the pain. Swirling visions of reality mixed with fantasy and no way to tell one from the other. Vin tried to fight through the layers of confusion as they mingled with the waves of pain that crashed through his belly.
Chris' face floated in and out, sitting over him then suddenly fighting in the snow with the fugitive they'd been tracking; the deafening roar of the mare's leg as Vin took another life; an old man he'd never seen before; his long dead mother; horses trampling him beneath the snow; the girl he lost his virginity to when he was fifteen; demons in the form of Eli Joe and every man he'd ever been forced to kill circling back to the fight and on and on. Hell, even a couple of angels complete with halo and wings made their appearance and he thought they had come for him. He started to ask if they'd mistaken him for someone else, then thought better of it. But they never stayed, their beautiful faces always dissolving back into the cycle of nightmares.
Death definitely was becoming a more pleasing option; if he could only figure out how to let go.
+ + + + + + +
"I can do it, Chris. I'll be fine."
J.D. had voiced the plan neither Chris nor Nathan had wanted to. Truth was, Chris knew it might be the only distraction that might work.
J.D. was built basically the same as Calvin Jr., a little shorter, not as skinny, but close enough to fool the old man in the growing darkness. Now he had to figure out what to do once the man realized J.D. wasn't his son.
"Fine, J.D. Come on." Chris didn't miss the flash of pride and excitement that shined from the young man's eyes, reminiscent of the first time he'd told J.D. he could stay. Damn fool kid.
He led J.D. silently to the spot where he'd dragged the outlaw's body and hidden it in the bluff. Thank God the old man hadn't noticed the grooves he'd made in the snow among the boot and hoof tracks.
J.D. helped him as he dug through the mound of snow and pulled the dead man from his icy grave. Chris threw J.D. the man's wide-brim hat and began to pull stiff arms from the black duster Calvin Jr. wore.
"Whatta you doin'?" J.D.'s face twisted in confusion and disgust as he watched. Chris rolled the body over, pulling the coat free and tossing it to J.D.
"Put it on."
J.D. shook his head, his eyes wide in the moonlight. "Uh, uh. That's just too creepy."
"You wanted to do this, now put it on." Chris growled and J.D. reluctantly peeled off his own coat and put on the duster.
Chris pulled the garment around the young man's sturdy body and fastened the first two buttons. It was a tight fit, but it'd have to do. Chris felt J.D. shiver and knew it was from more than the frosty sting of the night air. The kid was going to have to learn that sometimes you did what you had to do. Didn't mean you liked it, you just did it.
Chris reached under the coat and grabbed one of J.D.'s Colts from its holster. "Here, keep this in your pocket, use it if you have to."
He could tell J.D. was questioning his own eagerness as the reality of their situation slapped him hard in the face. He knew better than to suggest they not go through with it – J.D. was as stubborn as he was foolhardy and Chris knew he'd never back down anyway. It was one of the things he admired most in the kid.
"J.D., I need you to do exactly what I tell you."
J.D. nodded, staring at Chris with those damn trusting eyes that believed everything he said. Maybe he should tell the boy he didn't know if this would work at all; that he never wanted any responsibility other than for his own hide. But here he was, trying not to think about what could go wrong. What if he lost J.D. in this fiasco, or Vin, or heaven help them, what if he lost both young men he'd grown to love as friends? None of those options were acceptable. None.
"You got no business sending J.D. in there."
Chris turned to see Nathan's outline as he stood in the shadow of the rocks. "Don't have much of a choice."
"It's a long shot and you know it, Chris."
"It can work, Nathan." J.D. flashed the healer a wide grin. "Just tell me what to do and I'll make it work." J.D. turned back to Chris, his voice revealing a hint of fear, probably more of Chris changing his mind, than of the plan not working.
Chris turned his gaze away from Nathan and back to J.D. His body language projecting his message loud and clear. "No heroics or I'll shoot you myself, J.D."
J.D. nodded and stepped closer.
"Stay in the shadows and keep your mouth shut. Make sure he doesn't see you in the firelight."
"Ok." J.D. chewed absently on his upper lip, but Chris knew he was soaking in every word.
"Make him come to you. We want a clear shot away from the cave and away from you. And if you even imagine he's aiming that rifle at ya, shoot him. Keep your hand in your pocket and your finger on that trigger."
"Ok, Chris."
"You ready."
"As I'll ever be." J.D. let out a held-in breath and tried to smile, but Chris saw the slight twitch in the corners of his mouth.
"You'll be ok, son. Just keep your head." Chris put one hand on J.D.'s shoulder and they walked out into the clearing.
"Mr. Tucker! We've got your boy, now let's make that trade."
PART 7
J.D. could feel the muscles in his legs shaking almost as much as his right hand as it rested on the Colt in his pocket. Nope, this wasn't one of his brighter ideas, but if Chris thought it would get Vin away from that man's clutches, then he'd go through with it.
He risked a quick glance at Chris, a look of determination and confidence held its place on his hero's features and J.D. breathed out a slight sigh. Chris seemed to think it would work. As long as J.D. did what he was supposed to do. No sweat.
Calvin stepped from the entrance cautiously, his gun trained inside.
Chris gently nudged J.D. forward, his hand resting supportively on his back. J.D. hoped the older man couldn't feel the tremors wracking through his body.
"Get away from the cave, Mister." Chris' voice boomed in his ear and J.D. flinched and silently chided himself. Calm down, J.D. Don't mess this up.
"No deal – you and your friend get out where I can see you. Guns on the ground, hands up."
Chris stepped away and J.D. heard the clunk of his friend's gunbelt as it hit frozen earth and saw Nathan throw aside the pistol he was holding. J.D. took comfort in knowing Nathan had his knives if something went wrong, but continued to absently finger the cold metal of his gun for added reassurance.
"C.J., come here son."
J.D. paused, trying to pick the best route to keep his face out of the old man's sight.
"C.J.! Get over here!"
Calvin's voice held no room for argument and J.D. ducked his head farther beneath the floppy hat and moved closer. He glanced over at Chris again – this wasn't exactly part of the game plan and he was left with only his own gut instincts to go on. J.D. remembered to place himself out of the light of the fire, but in doing that, he'd gotten a little too close to the old man.
Calvin's hand closed on the young man's right wrist and pulled him close, yanking J.D.'s hand free of the gun. J.D. gasped as he was forcefully hauled in front of Calvin's face, and they both stared wide-eyed at each other for a second before reality sank in.
Rage replaced the shock in the man's wrinkled features and he tightened his grip on J.D. as he turned and aimed his rifle at Vin's vulnerable form.
"NO!" J.D. yelled and lunged awkwardly at Calvin's arm, nearly knocking the weapon from his grasp. A reverberating blast shattered the quietness of the night, a chunk of rock exploded as the bullet hit the side of the cave and Calvin let out a primal scream.
J.D. tried to get out of the way, but he couldn't escape Calvin's grasp quickly enough. He saw the old man swing the gun toward his face and he jerked to the side, but he couldn't avoid the crushing blow as the wooden stock slammed into the side of his head. The impact spun him around and J.D. screamed as a separate, stabbing pain invaded the muscle above his collarbone. His world became a blur of swirling white and hot pain, yet, somehow, he was still on his feet. The yelling that had started out as ear splitting was now fading into the background and he fought the nausea welling up in his throat.
Snow suddenly covered his face, and J.D. felt the searing agony in his shoulder pushed deeper, spreading through his left arm and down his side. He tried to roll over, escape its clutches, but he didn't have the strength. He welcomed the cold's numbing magic, first on his exposed skin, then as it moved to encase his brain; luring him into welcomed oblivion where there was no noise, no confusion, and no pain.
+ + + + + + +
Nathan knew something had gone wrong the minute Calvin grabbed J.D.'s arm and he saw the old man's face twist in a display of madness at their betrayal.
"Chris!" Nathan's own voice sounded far away as he called out, but a reverberating blast shook him to his core. He watched as Chris dropped on one knee and snatched his gun, drawing a bead on Calvin, but he knew his friend wouldn't shoot. J.D. was too close.
Nathan looked up in time to see Calvin drive the butt of his gun into J.D.'s skull and an overwhelming rage borne of panic burned in his veins. Nathan rushed forward, his hand automatically reaching behind his back and yanking his knife from its sheath. Then he let the weapon fly.
To Nathan's horror, J.D. hadn't fallen out of harms way. Instead Calvin had pulled the boy closer and Nathan's scream mixed with J.D.'s as the blade embedded itself near the young man's neck.
Calvin's eyes shone wild in the firelight as he switched his gaze from Nathan to J.D. and back again. The old man's mouth gaped in horror as J.D. groaned and hung limp in his arms. Cal released his hold, letting the kid drop to the ground as he scrambled back into the cave.
"No!" Nathan pushed through the snow and dropped on his knees next to J.D.'s prone form and gently rolled him over, brushing the clinging snow from the youth's face.
"WHY! Why did you try and deceive me!" Calvin's frantic cries hung in the night air, but Nathan was in no mood to try and explain.
"Nathan." The black man realized it was Larabee, but he didn't look up, his eyes riveted to the knife…his knife…as it moved in rhythm with J.D.'s erratic breathing. "Nathan, let's get J.D. outta here before we all get shot."
Nathan nodded. Emotions twisted and turned in his gut: guilt, fear, anger all vying for the top position in his aching heart. He reached for J.D.'s legs as Chris cradled the kid's shoulders. A low grunt of pain rumbled deep from the boy's throat and Nathan felt the sting of hot tears as they escaped from the corners of his eyes. He clenched his jaw and fought off the grief that threatened to overwhelm him. Right now they had to get J.D. to safety, then Nathan could allow himself the luxury of blame.
+ + + + + + +
Calvin rocked slowly, his hands wrapped tightly around his rifle as he watched the men move the wounded boy. He hadn't wanted to hurt the young man. He wasn't going to shoot Vin, he knew deep down that he could have never pulled the trigger. He'd just wanted to show them he could. God how did things get so messed up!
He wasn't sure why, but he'd believed they had really gone back to Flatland and brought C.J. Cal cursed himself for being so gullible, but he could have sworn he only saw the two men riding up the bluff. His heart wanted to believe he supposed, so he let his head be fooled. Now he no longer knew what to do. Leave under the cover of night and ride to Flatland? And then what? Break him out of jail. He'd already panicked like a fool and hurt one person tonight. His eyes lifted to look at Vin and he wondered if he should count him among his victims too.
Cal let out a heavy sigh and leaned back against the rocks; his heart ached and his head throbbed and he desperately wanted to stop thinking and just bawl like a baby.
"What's goin' on?"
Calvin jerked upright. "What?"
He lay his gun down carefully, leaning forward. Vin's eyes looked tired, but not as glassy as before. Calvin placed his palm on Vin's forehead and smiled at the relative coolness beneath his touch.
"Fever's going down. You feeling better?"
Vin nodded slightly. "Some.
"Want some more of that medicine?" Calvin tried not to let on about the seriousness of his situation.
"Who's out there?" Vin tried to sit up, but Cal gently pushed him back. "I heard somebody screamin'."
Calvin didn't know what to say. He certainly didn't want to inform the now somewhat coherent young man that he was using him to get his son back.
"Coyote killing something I think. Sounded horrible didn't it?" He tried to read Vin's face to see if he'd believed the lie. He didn't.
"That weren't no animal." Vin rested back against the bedroll, wincing and sucking in a breath as he shifted slightly to face the old man. "Now tell me what's goin' on."
Calvin turned to stare at the dying fire and nodded.
+ + + + + + +
Nathan felt ill. He had tended to more battle wounds than he'd cared to count and had never once gotten sick; but this was different. This time it was his knife buried halfway into the flesh of a friend. There because he put it there.
The healer wiped the sweat from his forehead and reached for the handle again. He saw the mask of indifference Chris tried desperately to put up, but the creases of worry along his forehead and the concern in his eyes gave him away.
"Hold him still as you can, he ain't gonna like this." Nathan gripped the knife tightly as he placed one hand on J.D.'s chest and yanked it free in one swift motion.
J.D. screamed and broke free of Chris' grasp, bolting upright, his eyes wide with terror and pain, his arms paddling wildly as he tried to push his tormentors away. Chris grabbed the kid's flailing limbs and tried to ease him back into the pile of blankets, but J.D. fought harder.
Nathan tossed the knife from the side of the wagon and pushed his bare hand into the flowing wound. "Shhh, it's all right, son."
The rush of adrenaline gave out and J.D. went limp. Chris quickly caught the boy's head before it smacked into the sideboard of the wagon and he gently laid him on the soft quilts. J.D. whimpered softly from the effort.
"It's ok, you're ok, J.D." Nathan soothed as he took away his hand and tried to glimpse the severity of the wound in the moonlight.
"He all right?" Chris' voice broke through Nathan's introspection.
"Don't know, too dark to see how bad it is." Nathan pulled out a folded rag from his pack and pressed it tight into the still bleeding wound. J.D. moaned again and tried to wiggle away from the black man's touch, but Chris quickly held him still.
"Take it easy, J.D." The gunslinger tried to calm him this time, using the softest voice Nathan had ever heard coming from the other man's lips.
Nathan retrieved another cloth and drenched it with water from his canteen. He gently turned the boy's head to the side and carefully dabbed at the blood that was matted in J.D.'s hair and the stray rivulets that still trickled down the side of his face.
J.D. stared up at them, his eyes glazed from pain and shock, and it seemed as if he was searching to recall something he'd forgotten.
"Did we get him?" J.D. clutched weakly at Chris' shirt. Jackson and Larabee exchanged glances and Nathan wondered if they should tell him the truth or lie outright. J.D. seemed so agitated the healer was afraid their failure might be too upsetting for him right now.
"You did good, J.D. Everything's gonna be just fine." Chris' tone was full of pride as he gently patted the injured boy's chest. Nathan nodded his approval, marveling at the gunslinger's ability to convey exactly what J.D. needed to hear.
"Good." J.D. let out a heavy sigh and settled back into the blankets, smiling slightly and closing his eyes.
Chris stood up and jumped out of the wagon, landing quietly in the snow. Nathan pulled the covers up to J.D.'s neck and smoothed the hair from the boy's eyes. He waited until he was sure the kid was drifting off before joining Chris.
"Whatta we gonna do now? We gotta get them both home, Chris. They can't spend another night out in this kinda weather. Don't even know what's wrong with Vin, but from what you said it can't be good."
"No more talkin' - I'm goin' in after him." Chris said softly as he finished buckling his gun belt.
"He'll shoot ya before you poke your head in there."
"Maybe…then maybe I can kill him before he kills me."
PART 8
Chris' voice echoed rage, but Nathan knew it was mostly a cover. Larabee was scared. He could see it reflecting from deep within the other man's eyes, laying bare the mask he normally kept in place as successfully as Ezra ever dreamed of doing.
Nathan understood. Hell, he was scared too. The healer had no idea of Vin's condition other than what Chris had relayed to him on the trip here. Now they both had J.D. to be concerned for too. Jackson couldn't deny that one was his fault. He'd reacted on pure instinct and God knows he'd rather cut off his right arm that hurt J.D., but that's exactly what he'd done. Now he had to stop Chris from getting himself killed.
"Chris, don't." Nathan faced Larabee, his dark eyes determined. "Mr. Tucker ain't crazy, just grievin' and you know as well as anybody that's just as dangerous as any madman."
"Then whatta you suggest we do? We're runnin' outta time here, Vin's gonna die if we don't get him outta there and I'm not gonna sit on my butt and let that happen."
Nathan knew he was right. He just wished they had another plan aside from Chris getting his head blown off.
The sound of approaching horses made both men automatically draw their weapons and point into the blackness.
"Easy, pard." Buck's smooth lilt broke the strained silence and Nathan let go of the breath he'd been holding. "We figured you boys must have run into some trouble."
Buck dismounted, the grin disappearing from his face as he saw the somber expressions of Nathan and Chris.
"What's wrong, is Vin…" Buck asked, letting his voice trail, his fear all too clear.
"No. Well, we ain't sure." Nathan answered and motioned to the wagon with a
tilt of his head. "J.D.'s a little banged up though."
Buck let the reins drop from his hands and hurriedly climbed into the back of the wagon. Nathan hung his head as Ezra and Josiah both peered over the wooden sides.
"What happened?" Buck's voice was tight and Nathan longed to go ahead and spit out the truth, but they didn't have time for the explanation he would have to give.
"Concussion and a knife wound. I think he'll be all right." Jackson scanned the eyes of all three men, his secret burning a hole in his gut.
"Tried to trick the old man. Didn't work." Chris offered no further explanation. "Now, first light I'm goin' in and finish this, anybody got a better idea better speak up now."
+ + + + + + +
Images faded in and out of his muddled brain as Cal rambled about his wife, his daughter, but mostly about C.J. From what Vin could tell, he was being held captive so Chris would bring his son to him. But that didn't make any sense. He remembered all too vividly that he'd shot the young man, pretty much blown the side of his head clean off. He hadn't wanted to do it, but he'd had no choice in the matter.
Vin listened to Calvin bare his soul and he couldn't control the creeping guilt filling his heart. The boy was obviously loved dearly and whatever the truth was, Cal would never be convinced his son was anything but perfect.
"Cal." Vin interrupted and the old man stopped mid-sentence. "You've gotta give this up. C.J.…"
Tanner had no idea how to put it gently even if he'd had the time or the energy. Blunt was all he could do. "Chris can't bring you yer son, Mister." Vin swallowed hard and shut his eyes as pain lanced through his lower belly and down his legs. He prayed he wouldn't pass out before he could talk some sense into Tucker.
Calvin shifted closer and leaned over him. Vin sucked in a deep breath and looked up into the old man's eyes. Grief and confusion shone from the dark depths of Cal's soul and tears began to run down his cheeks. Vin realized he already knew the truth, but he needed to hear it from a voice other than the one in his head denying it all.
"I'm sorry." Vin could feel the heaviness of exhaustion dragging him under as the tearing agony in his gut returned to claim him. "I shot ‘im."
Cal's lip trembled and he shook his head. "No…." His voice trailed off into a soft wail.
"He's dead. I'm sorry." Vin hoped Calvin could see the sincerity in his eyes and hear the sorrow in his voice as he confessed. Of course he wasn't sure if any of that mattered right now.
Vin could physically feel the life drain out of the old man as he broke down. Vin shuddered as shadows from the lingering fire moved across the old man's face making his wrinkled features even more cadaverous.
Vin tried to think back to why he had decided bringing in outlaws and murderers seemed like a good way to keep himself fed. Despite what he figured most people thought about him, he never enjoyed killing. It was just something that needed to be done. ‘Course he had never thought much about the fact that most of the people on the other end of his rifle might also have a mother and a father, kids or a sweetheart that suffered even more dearly for the crimes their loved ones committed. Damn, he really didn't need to be thinking about that. Vin closed his eyes and tried to shut out the morbid thoughts.
"Get up." Cal's voice had lost its vulnerable tone and Vin figured he was about to die. Calvin threw aside Tanner's blanket and pulled on his shoulder. "Get up, now!"
The cave had grown dimmer as the light of early morning crept through the opening, leaving Vin wondering if he'd actually been dozing or if time had somehow lost its meaning altogether. He could have sworn the walls were moving in rhythm with each breath he took and he wished for nothing more than his weary body to be pulled back into the pain-free world of sleep.
Vin groaned and tried to move, but the pain in his belly made his legs reject his commands. Cal yanked hard with a strength Vin would have never guessed the slight man possessed and he felt his body dragged from the warmth of his bedroll onto the cold hardness of the rocks.
"Cal, what...." Vin wasn't sure what the old man was planning, but he was pretty sure it would end with Calvin gunning him down like a rabid wolf. Agony exploded through his wounded ribs and down the length of Vin's body and he figured he'd probably drop dead before they got outside anyway.
"YOU WANT HIM! COME AND GET HIM!" Tucker's voiced boomed in Vin's ear, the
combination of rage and pure grief making him flinch. Calvin had one arm wrapped around his chest, but it didn't keep the tracker from sagging toward the slush under his bare feet. God he was so cold. God he hurt so bad.
Vin shivered violently and stifled a scream as he felt his insides clench and spasm with renewed pain. "Calvin, don't do this." Vin set his jaw and continued through clenched teeth. "He'll kill you."
"Good."
The word sent chills up Vin's spine that had little to do with the weather. Calvin didn't have the nerve or the will to kill himself by his own hand so he was going to let Chris do it for him.
"It'll be easier on all of us this way." Calvin whispered, his voice strained with raw emotion.
+ + + + + + +
"Tucker! No more deals, no more trades." Chris kept his voice steady as he made his way closer to the cave, his rifle aimed in front of him, his finger on the trigger just waiting for a glimpse Calvin Tucker. "You give us Vin and I won't blow your goddamn head off."
Chris hoped Tucker understood he meant business, because as much grief as he'd caused them all, Larabee wasn't beyond blowing the old man clear into next week. He'd give him a fighting change to surrender, but then again, a part of him really didn't care. His only concern was getting Vin out of that madman's clutches and getting them all back to Four Corners as soon as humanly possible. If he had to kill the fugitive's father to accomplish
that, then so be it.
"You've got no where to go, and everything to lose if you don't drop that rifle."
Chris felt the presence of Buck and Nathan as they flanked him on either side, felt their tension as they cautiously followed him closer through the waning darkness and into what very well could be an ambush. Larabee was beyond rational thought however. He was running on rage and pent up frustration and he might die right here on this frozen slush, but he wasn't giving in. Not again.
Not one damn inch.
+ + + + + + +
Vin watched Chris as he appeared over the bluff, his silhouette evoking foretelling visions of the grim reaper. Vin just couldn't figure out if the prophecy was for Calvin or for him.
The tracker could feel the vibration of Tucker's heart as it thumped against his back and he knew he had to do something more than stand here sweating ...and waiting.
"What about your daughter, Calvin?" Vin fought hard with his body's demand to shut down, but he had to stop the carnage Cal seemed determined to bring down upon himself.
"Do you want her to lose her whole family today?" Vin felt Tucker stiffen and a low moan rumbled through his throat. Tanner felt the cold steel of a gun barrel beneath his chin and he knew he'd hit paydirt.
Vin struggled to stay conscious, the sharp pains in his stomach making him queasy and light-headed. Still he summoned the strength to hang on. "Do you want her to think her daddy didn't love her? That you'd rather be dead than see her again?"
"It ain't like that!" Calvin sobbed.
"Won't be nobody to tell her that. She'll go to her own grave thinking you're a selfish old man."
Tucker squeezed his eyes tight and shook his head violently. "Shut up! Just shut up!"
"You gonna let her think C.J. was the only child you loved?"
Calvin released his grip and Vin dropped weakly to the ground, his arms wrapped protectively around his middle. He forced himself to turn slightly and face Cal.
In the pale light of the full moon he saw Tucker stare at the rifle in his hands, his shoulders shaking as he sobbed softly then dropped the weapon into a lingering patch of bright snow. "Ain't got the guts anyway."
"TUCKER!"
Vin would have jumped at the sheer madness in Chris' voice, but he was beyond exhausted. Calvin let out a contented sigh and confusion twisted Tanner's thoughts as he watched the old man drop to one knee to retrieve the rifle and fire in Larabee's direction.
Oh God!
He had failed. The pain inside the grieving father's heart was stronger than logic or even the love of his surviving child and now he was going to get himself killed, or maybe even shoot one of his friends in the process.
"DON'T SHOOT!"
Tanner's desperation vibrated off the rocks and through the night air, reverberating back into his aching skull. Vin heard the boom of Calvin's rifle again, followed by the familiar sound of Chris' Winchester from somewhere above them. Vin summoned every scrap of stamina left inside his battered body and lunged toward Tucker.
Vin caught the old man in the knees and they both landed in a tangled heap and the weary tracker felt the stitches in his side finally give way and pop. He tried to move, but his body might as well have been made of lead-shot as it rebelled at any commands to go anywhere. Total blackness began to invade his brain, leaving no room for light or noise in it's void. He didn't hear any more shots, but then again he couldn't rely on his senses either. Vin figured he was dying as the torment in his belly blossomed into throbbing misery. Blood gushed and soaked into the fabric of his shirt, flooding the cold ground beneath him and he finally gave in to the pain-free
world of unconsciousness.
+ + + + + + +
Chris let his mount lag behind his friends as they made it through the twisting canyon trails. He could see Nathan sitting up in the back of the wagon; Josiah driving slowly, constantly glancing over his shoulder at their fallen friends.
J.D. had awakened briefly when they loaded Vin into the wagon. The kid had almost tumbled over the side as he scrabbled to make room for the tracker and Nathan. Buck, as usual, had happened to be at the right place at the right time and stopping his fall, quickly getting him settled into the far corner. Chris felt a twinge of guilt as he remembered the young man's eyes, still glazed over with the pain and shock of his own wounds as he watched Nathan peel back the bloody shirt clinging to Vin's side. J.D.'s face had turned even more ghostly as he sunk back into the mound of quilts and twisted his head so he couldn't see.
Chris longed to be able to do the same. He hadn't slept more than a couple of hours in the past three days and the weight of worry combined with bone numbing exhaustion was messing with his mind. Nathan was doing the best he could, but Larabee still felt stone cold dread sitting like an anchor in his chest.
"Ain't gonna tell you he's gonna make it, ‘cause I don't know."
Nathan's words echoed through his skull and the weight grew heavier. Damn that old man. Chris thought it, but his heart no longer held the fiery rage he'd felt in the beginning. It was because of Tucker that Vin had suffered needlessly for more than a day, kept them from seeing to his wounds and now Vin might not even make the journey home.
Yet he didn't hate Calvin Tucker like he knew he should.
Chris didn't realize that fact himself until he had the old man in his rifle sight and couldn't pull the trigger. He, of course, had had every intention of hog tying the kidnapping son of a bitch and dragging him to the nearest jail, but he hadn't done that either. Something in Tucker's eyes mirrored a grief Larabee knew all too well. One that would never let him go. A life sentence that was worse than any punishment the law could impose on him. So Chris had left Tucker there, kneeling on the thawing earth, stroking his son's hair and weeping softly.
Chris shut his eyes tight and waited for the senseless barrage of images and voices in his head to cease. He wanted to think of no one or nothing but how soon he could meet the business end of a warm bed. Now if he could only persuade his mind of that. Instead his thoughts drifted back to his friend. Vin was tough, he'd make it if anyone could. He was just too damn stubborn to die anyway so why was he frettin' over something that wasn't going to happen?
Sounded good anyway. Now if he could only convince his heart.
The wagon stopped as they reached the base of the rocks. They'd only managed to cover a mile or so in a little over an hour. Not too bad considering the terrain they had just navigated and the precarious condition of the injured men in the back.
Chris pulled up next to Vin and solemnly watched as Nathan gave the semi-conscious tracker a sip of water.
"He still alright?" Chris locked eyes with the healer, their dark depths still revealing nothing.
"He's doin' ok for now. Been mumbling for the last twenty minutes or so, can't figure out what he thinks he's tellin' me though."
"Chris?" J.D. stiffly raised up, needing the sideboards to steady himself as he addressed Larabee. "If they need more room, I can ride."
Chris could see fresh blood oozing through the makeshift bandage on J.D.'s shoulder as he moved, pain shining in the boy's dazed eyes and Larabee knew he wasn't up to sitting a horse. He had no doubt that come hell or high water J.D.'d stick it out and ride with the big boys if Chris gave his ok. Of course he also knew the stubborn fool would ask to try even if he was carrying his head in a sack.
"No, you can't." Nathan spat out in frustration.
"We've been tellin' you that for the last hour!" Buck rode up beside the wagon and pressed a large hand against the boy's good shoulder, effectively shoving him back onto his pallet. "You got hole where there shouldn't be holes and a knot the size of my fist on your thick noggin, boy. Hard enough watching out for your moronic hide, but I ain't stoppin' ever' five minutes to stick your butt back in the saddle."
J.D. turned pleading eyes to Chris as he looked for an ally to back up his argument. "I don't need to ride in no wagon like an invalid. I'm fine!"
Buck let out an exasperated sigh. "Ok, son, I'll tell ya what, if you can tell me how many fingers I'm holdin' up I'll switch places with ya." Buck leaned in and held up three fingers in J.D.'s face.
Nathan grinned and shook his head. Chris laughed softly to himself as the others realized this test would not go in J.D.'s favor, no matter what the kid said.
"Three." J.D. proclaimed triumphantly, but still didn't lift his head off the quilt.
"Wrong! You saw three fingers, boy? You musta got hit harder ‘n I thought." Buck mockingly put his palm on J.D.'s forehead. "Feels like you got a fever too, son. Now lay back and be quiet before Nathan gives you another dose of that disgusting concoction he passes for medicine."
Nathan cleared his throat loudly and turned to look at Buck. J.D. looked baffled and blinked his eyes hard, trying to clear his vision then turned to Larabee for confirmation. "He's lyin', right?"
"Only saw one. Look at me son, I'm over here." Chris deadpanned, playing along with Buck's plan.
Confusion wrapped around the kid's features and he placed his hand gingerly on the swollen bump on his head as if he wasn't at all sure of his lucidity anymore. Nathan cut his eyes at Chris, his disapproval evident in his expression.
Buck pulled the discarded quilt back over J.D.'s chest and patted him gently. "Better sleep, son, ‘fore you start seeing fairies and elves and such hanging in the trees."
J.D. groaned and closed his eyes, his pale cheeks now flushed red with embarrassment.
"Gentlemen, shall we go before we all take root and perish here?" Ezra drawled, not bothering to hide the amusement in his voice.
"Sounds like a plan." Josiah said as he slapped his reins on the flanks of the waiting horses and the wagon lurched forward again. Heading for the safe confines of home.
The End
