"Nathan! Nathan!"
Vin's urgent call sounded close to panic, and Nathan quickly climbed to his feet and peered around the side of the house. His belly contracted with fear as he saw the young bounty-hunter, gun in hand, crouched protectively over the fallen form of Chris Larabee. He threw a backward glance at Buck, who sat clutching the body of Hilde to his chest, and went back to lightly squeeze the distraught man's broad shoulder.
"Have to go, Buck," he said softly. "Chris has been hit."
The other nodded faintly, barely taking in what he was saying, and Nathan left him to his grief.
Vin tore his anguished gaze away from his stricken friend and wished Nathan would hurry. Chris lay hunched over on his side, his left hand pressed tightly against the wound along his lower right ribs, but he couldn't mask the blood that seeped through his fingers. Clad only in his black pants, his bare feet scraped deep furrows in the dust as he writhed in agony. Hearing his grunts of pain, Vin holstered his gun and reached down to grasp the wounded man's shoulder.
"Hold on, Chris," he said. "Nathan's coming."
The gunslinger gave a shuddering gasp, and raised his head slightly. "Ella..."
Vin tightened his grip on his friend. "She's gone, Chris. Sorry.”
"She killed ... them!"
The younger man looked down at him in confusion. "What...?"
His strength gone, Chris could say no more, and he sank back to the ground with a soft groan. Running footsteps made Vin glance up quickly, and he was relieved to see the tall figure of Nathan. Dropping down beside the semi-conscious man, the dark-skinned healer bent his head to examine Chris. Vin moved gratefully aside, but kept his eyes fixed on his friend's pallid features as he waited anxiously for Nathan to speak.
Back at the house, Buck raised his head, realising for the first time that he was alone. He looked around for Nathan, then suddenly remembered what he had said before he'd disappeared. His best friend had been shot and needed help. Glancing down at the still form in his arms, he murmured a soft apology and eased Hilde's body gently against the wall, and climbed to his feet. A gasp of horror made him turn around to see the Doc standing stock still, clean towels clutched in his hands.
"She's dead, Doc," Buck told the obviously shaken man. "Take care of her for me."
The other nodded and opened his mouth to speak, but Buck had already gone. Even as he ran the short distance between the house and the porch, his heart started pounding with fear. Hilde's violent death had affected him more deeply than he could have imagined - he couldn't bear the thought of losing Chris as well. He looked up from his friend's crumpled body to meet Vin's blue gaze and he wasn't encouraged by what he saw.
"Nathan?" he murmured.
"You and Vin get him in the house," the healer answered shortly, "I'll go get my things."
Despite their careful handling, the wounded man cried out as the two lifted him up and carried him inside. Taking him upstairs, they laid him on the bed he'd recently occupied with Ella, and he subsided with his face pressed against the pillow in an effort to stifle his sobs of pain. In Nathan's absence, Vin and Buck busied themselves trying to find clean linen to staunch the wound and make their friend as comfortable as possible.
"What the hell's keeping Nathan?" Buck asked impatiently, as he watched the blood soak through the makeshift dressing he'd applied.
The sound of his voice caused Chris to open his eyes, and although the dark veil of unconsciousness was threatening to overwhelm him, he made a sudden move to sit up.
"Hey, easy there, Stud," Buck said, catching hold of his friend's upper arms. "Where’d you think ya going?"
Chris focused his pain-fogged gaze on him and he reached up a bloodstained hand to grip the other's sleeve with surprising strength.
"She.... killed… Sarah and Adam!"
Buck stared at the wounded man in surprise. "Who?"
"Ella."
The softly-spoken answer came not from Chris, but from Vin Tanner's lips, and Buck turned quickly to regard the young Texan in stunned disbelief. Vin's eyes, however, were locked on Chris', as the gunslinger glared back at him with barely suppressed rage. Buck looked from one to the other, bewilderment clearly written on his face. He was obviously missing something here, but he was damned if he knew what it was. Vin turned towards him.
"She was the one who hired Fowler."
Buck’s dark eyes widened even further. ‘’How do you know…?’’ he began, then glanced back at the man on the bed. ‘’Chris?’’
‘’Vin’s right. He... was right all along.’’
The younger man’s gaze swung back to his friend. Injured though he was, there was no mistaking the bitter tone in Chris’ voice. Vin took no pleasure in the fact that his suspicions about Ella Gaines had been proven correct. He just wished that Chris had believed him last night when he told him that Ella owned the Culpepper Mining Company, and that Jack Avery worked for her. A lot of people had died unnecessarily today, and if Chris had listened to him then, they might still be alive.
Buck, however, needed more convincing. True, he wasn’t thinking clearly at the present – too much had happened over a short space of time. Realising this, Chris marshalled his failing senses and gripped the other’s arm with bone-crushing tenacity.
‘’Down the hallway… there’s a room...’’ He paused and closed his eyes briefly as another pulse of pain lanced through his side. The other two men waited expectantly. Whatever Chris was trying to tell them was obviously very important to him, even though the effort was costing him dear.
"She... " Chris couldn't bring himself to utter her name. "She collected things. Things… from my… past. She has... Sarah's locket!"
"That's enough."
Nathan had entered the room, unnoticed by the others, and he was alarmed by the wounded man's agitated state. He stepped quickly over to the bed, brushed Buck aside and sat down on the edge to push his patient back against the pillows.
"You already lost enough blood, Chris," he chided, anxiety giving a harsh edge to his voice. "Lie still before you lose any more."
The gunslinger, however, refused to be pacified. Seeing the doubt in Buck's eyes, he made one last concerted attempt to sit up.
"If you don't... believe me, go... and see for yourself!"
His friend's desperate plea was enough to make Buck turn abruptly on his heel and vanish from the room. Chris turned his blurring vision on Vin, who remained standing at Nathan's shoulder, and he challenged the younger man to say something, but the other just quietly turned away and followed Buck out. With an agonised groan, Chris gave in to his pain and sank back at last onto the bed.
When Vin came to the curtained-off room - in reality little more than a large walk-in closet - he found Buck standing perfectly still in the centre of the confined space. He stopped just inside the doorway, and followed the other man's gaze as he stared around at the contents that lay within. Arranged on shelves on the walls were items clearly relating to Chris Larabee's past; photographs, newspaper articles detailing the tragic death of his wife and young son, and personal items littered the small room. Most disturbing of all was the fact that the few pictures of Sarah Larabee had been heavily defaced with a pen or torn into shreds. Buck eyed the mementoes with a growing sense of rage and revulsion. Unlike Vin, who had never known Chris' family, he was sickened by Ella Gaines' actions and how she had besmirched the memory of a good lady and the little boy who was still close to his heart.
Glancing down at the floor, a glint of metal caught his attention, and he bent to pick the object up. It was a gold locket and both halves were open. One side revealed a photograph of Chris, but the other side was empty. Vin, who stood at Buck's elbow, had no doubt that it once contained the companion photograph of Sarah, but now it was gone, a further violation of a cherished article. With a savage cry, Buck flung the locket to the floor, and lunged forward to sweep the items from the shelves, his anger and grief over Hilde's death adding to the violence of his act.
Vin, although surprised and alarmed, stood back and let him continue. In Buck's present state, it seemed the wisest thing to do, and to try and stop him would be a big mistake. When he was satisfied with the damage, Buck swung around and brushed past Vin without saying a word. A few moments later, the young tracker heard him run down the stairs and storm out. Vin breathed a long sigh of relief as silence descended on the house, and with a final glance around the ruined room, he turned to go. Then he noticed the locket on the floor and stooped to retrieve it. Remarkably, it was unbroken and Vin looked at it for several minutes before slipping it into the pocket of his jacket.
Along the hallway, Nathan heard the commotion, but had no time to raise his head to investigate. His patient needed his attention now, and he would have to call on all of his skills to prevent Chris' condition from deteriorating further. It had taken him longer than he'd intended to return from the bunkhouse with his precious bag of medical supplies.
The whole household was in turmoil, and understandably so; one member was dead, the mistress had fled from the scene, and several corpses, including that of Jack Avery, were littering the ground outside. Even as Hilde's body was being conveyed into the house, the servants, some hysterical with fear, were pleading for Nathan to help them, but he had more urgent business to attend to. He fervently hoped that the rest of his friends were unharmed, and his anxiety had increased when he caught sight of Ezra and Josiah. The gambler looked pale and shocked, but Josiah had indicated that the other was all right. Nathan made a mental note to check all was well as soon as he'd seen to Chris.
The fair-haired gunslinger had lapsed back into semi-consciousness, and lay with his eyes tightly shut, his breathing rapid and harsh. He'd started to tremble with shock soon after Buck and Vin had left the room, and Nathan had quickly piled warm blankets over his half-naked body in an effort to keep him warm. From the position of the wound, and his painful gasps, Nathan suspected some ribs had been cracked or broken by the bullet. One thing was certain, the bullet had to come out, and come out now!
At least he had been fortunate to find someone sensible enough to bring him some hot water so he could prepare his meagre medical instruments and scrub his hands. It was at times like this that he wished he had better equipment to work with, but what he really needed was the knowledge with which to use them. Most of his skills had been learned on the battlefields during the Civil War, but he wished he could have been taught by a real doctor, and not some charlatan. Nathan gave a deep sigh as he threw aside the towel in his hands and picked up his still-warm forceps. It was always more difficult to attend to the injuries suffered by his friends, and Lord knew he'd had enough practice! He checked Chris' pulse again, and found it fast and thready. Not an ideal condition, but he couldn't afford to waste any more time. Bending his head, he set about his task.
"Can I help?"
Nathan looked up with a start, and his dark face creased into a frown when he saw who was standing in the doorway. The middle-aged, balding man, who called himself the 'Doc' took a hesitant step inside the room, wringing his hands worriedly.
"Like you did before?"
Nathan could not suppress his anger and disgust at the man whose lies had led to a young woman's painful and terrifying death. The 'Doc' sighed and ran a trembling hand through his thinning hair before coming over to stand on the opposite side of the bed.
"I'm sorry I deceived you about being a physician, Nathan," he explained. "Believe me, it was all Ella's doing."
The mention of his former lover's name made Chris stir uneasily, and he opened glazed hazel eyes to stare up at the two men.
"Nathan?" he breathed, raising his head from the pillow.
The other pressed gentle, but firm hands against the wounded gunslinger's chest.
"It's all right, Chris. Just lie back."
Although more accustomed to giving orders than obeying them, Chris felt too sick and dizzy to think about arguing, and fell back, wearily closing his eyes. The 'Doc' looked across at Nathan's concerned face, and was moved to attempt another offer of assistance.
"We made a good team once."
The healer glanced up with such a baleful stare that the older man swallowed awkwardly and took an involuntary step backwards. It was obvious that his presence was not welcome here, so he turned and walked towards the door.
"Wait!"
'Doc' halted in his tracks and looked around. Nathan slowly raised his eyes from his injured friend and met his gaze.
"Do you still have any of that tincture of laudanum?"
The other man relaxed slightly at Nathan's request. "Yes." Seeing the silent plea on the younger man's face, the 'Doc' added, "I'll go and fetch it."
Nathan nodded his thanks and turned his attention back to his patient. The 'Doc' smiled briefly; He left the room a happier man than before, grateful he'd been given the chance to redeem himself.
+ + + + + + +
The day that had started with such violence passed by in a blur of frenzied activity. Once the initial shock of the events had worn off, it was soon discovered that there was much to do. The bodies of Jack Avery and his men were gathered up and hastily buried in an unmarked grave. Hildegard's remains were of course treated with more reverence. Arrangements were made to bury her near her cousin, Ella's late husband, and Josiah offered his services as preacher. Buck, still shocked by her death, and by what he had found about Ella's duplicity, kept to himself, barely speaking to anyone, not even JD, who could usually draw him out.
Ezra was still marvelling at his narrow escape from death, and he was stiff and sore where the bullet had struck the diamond brooch in his vest pocket. As they buried Avery and his cronies, he kept thinking how close he had come to lying in the cold earth with them and, although not normally a religious man, he thanked God for his deliverance. Vin prowled the house like a restless cat, anxious to get out and hunt for Ella, but loath to leave until he knew Chris was going to be alright. In the end, he headed out around noon, but concern for his friend ruined his concentration, and after about an hour of not finding anything, he rode back to the house.
However, he felt no better on his return. He was slowly becoming consumed by guilt, and although he tried hard to snap himself out this mood, it remained like a black cloud over his head. After his altercation with Chris the previous night, he had ridden out at first light and failed to spot the danger when Avery had shown up. Vin still wasn't sure what had caused him to turn back to the house. Premonition perhaps, that something bad was going to happen? He only remembered the numbing fear in his stomach when he'd heard the gunfire and knew his friends were in trouble. Was he right to blame himself for what had happened? If Chris had listened to him when he'd warned him about Ella, would things have turned out differently? It was too late to speculate now; the damage had been done, and everyone would have to live with the consequences.
He too had been horrified that Ella Gaines had been the instigator of the deaths of Chris' family, and although he had never known them personally, he was aware how deeply his friend still felt their loss. The fact that Chris had almost settled down with a ruthless murderer, albeit unwittingly, was even harder to consider. Vin had never really trusted Ella in the first place; some instinct had told him she wasn't the damsel in distress she professed to be, and it was that instinct that made him investigate her real motives. Chris wasn't the kind of man who would admit he'd made a mistake, and that was the main reason why he'd refused to listen to Vin's warnings.
After another hour of endless worrying about what might have been, and giving himself a pounding headache in the process, Vin made his way through the strangely hushed house and back upstairs to the bedroom where they had taken Chris. The door was slightly ajar and although it was still light outside, the heavy curtains were half-drawn to keep out the glare of the late afternoon sunshine. Nathan was seated beside the bed, reading a book by the glow of an oil lamp, which also cast its pale light on the sleeping man under the covers. Vin nodded mutely at Nathan, who put aside his book, and pushed himself stiffly from his chair, grateful for the interruption and the opportunity to stretch his cramped muscles. He ushered Vin back over to the door so they wouldn't disturb the other's rest.
"How's he doing?" the young tracker began, his voice barely a whisper.
"Bullet's out," Nathan answered, his eyes following Vin's concerned gaze to the man on the bed. "It broke a few ribs, so he'll be a mite uncomfortable for a while. I've given him laudanum for the pain, so providing he gets enough rest and there's no fever, he should be able to travel in three or four days time."
Vin sighed with relief, but made no reply.
"He'd be better riding back to town in that fancy carriage of hers," Nathan went on. "After all that's happened, I'm sure he'd want to get away from here as soon as possible."
Still with his eyes fixed on Chris' unmoving form, Vin nodded again. “Reckon we all will," he replied, almost to himself. Nathan gave him a curious look, and then he frowned with anxiety as he noticed the younger man's strained face.
"You all right, Vin?"
His friend turned to him in surprise, as if he'd only just realised Nathan was speaking.
"What? Oh… just a headache. It's nothing."
Nathan did not look convinced, but was prevented from answering when a low groan came from the wounded man. He immediately went over to the bed, with Vin reluctantly in his wake. He was certain that Chris would blame him for stirring up the hornet's nest of Ella Gaines murky past, even through he had inadvertently exposed her as the perpetrator of the death of his friend's family. Vin remembered the bitter glare in Chris' eyes the previous evening, and earlier today when he'd correctly guessed that she'd been the one who'd hired Cletus Fowler, and was loath to face that anger again.
Nathan bent over and laid a cool hand on Chris' forehead, and Vin tensed as the injured man rolled his head feebly against the pillow and half opened his eyes. However, there was nothing to fear as Chris was still in the grip of a drug-induced sleep and he merely sighed and closed his eyes again. Nathan grunted with satisfaction and straightened up to glance back at Vin.
"Restless, but no fever," he said.
Vin nodded, and then suddenly recalled what he still had in his pocket. Diving his hand inside, he drew out the gold locket and held it out to Nathan.
"Figure Chris should have this when he wakes up."
The healer took it and peered closely at the piece of jewellery.
"His wife's?"
"Yeah! It was in that room, along with other things," Vin replied. "Leastways, there was 'til Buck got there."
Nathan gave a slight grin. "I heard." Then he sobered and shook his head in disbelief. "She has to be one sick lady to do what she did."
Vin nodded in agreement and moved over to the door.
"Did you see any trace of her when you went out before?" Nathan asked, hastily.
The young tracker stopped and looked back with grim determination on his face. "Not yet, but I ain't about to give up 'til I find her."
+ + + + + + +
It had been warm all day, and the town of Four Corners was still bathed in afternoon summer sunshine, encouraging the people to go about their business with good heart. However, there was one man in town who did not share their ebullient mood. Chris Larabee sat hunched in a chair on the sidewalk, wrapped in a blanket and staring morosely out onto the street. His mood was such that the passing townsfolk avoided direct contact with him, not even enquiring after his health, although it was obvious from the heavy bandaging which still covered his chest, that he was far from recovered.
Chris had remained in bed for two long days at Ella Gaines's ranch house. That was as much as he could stomach, and on the third morning and much against Nathan's orders, he had flung back the blankets and demanded his clothes. If he'd had his way, he would have saddled his horse and got the hell out of the house, but the fact that he could hardly stand up without feeling sick, persuaded him to rest up for one more day. That day was like being in Purgatory, as Ella's presence in the house was everywhere. He could smell the cloying reek of her perfume on the bedclothes, see her personal items on the dressing table, and all the while know that this woman had killed his wife and son.
On the fourth day, the seven friends had quit the place for good, Chris riding in the carriage like the invalid he was, with Nathan seated anxiously beside him and Josiah at the reins. By the time they had reached Four Corners, Chris was in a high fever and spent the next two days in bed in Nathan's clinic, but at least that was preferable to being in that house with all its associated memories. Now he had nothing to do but sit and brood over what had happened - and blame himself for not having the guts to kill Ella when he had the chance. A lot of people had been hurt because of his inaction. Buck was still grieving over Hilde's untimely end, but to know that he had let Sarah and Adam's murderer get away was almost too much to bear. Fowler might be dead, but she still had her freedom and her life. Vin had tried to warn him about Ella, but like a blind fool he had refused to listen to the quietly-spoken Texan and paid the price, once again.
The letter he now held in his hand was the final twist of the knife in this tale of tragedy. In it she had written: ‘I forgive you for not appreciating what I did for you, for us, but I could not allow the jealous and weak of heart to destroy the great love we share. If we have the courage of our true hearts, we will do whatever is needed and find our way back to each other and the rest of the world be damned.’
The most chilling postscript came at the end, where she had signed herself: Ella Gaines Larabee
Chris shuddered as he glanced again at the sheet of paper in his hand. He was not a man who was usually frightened of anything or anyone, but Ella’s letter sent shivers down his spine. Not so long ago, he’d told Buck that being with Ella was like living on a knife-edge. She had proven to be a dangerous and ruthless woman, and obviously wasn’t prepared to give Chris up without a fight. Did she honestly believe she could still win back his affections after all she had done to him and his family? The letter seemed to indicate that she intended just that.
When he’d been sick with the fever, he’d suffered terrible nightmares, about his wife and son perishing in the flames. Even now their screams, and Ella’s mocking laughter, haunted his waking hours. He was a coward for not avenging Sarah and Adam’s murder, but if Ella ever dared to enter his life again, he would not make the same mistake again. The only thing he wanted now was her death.
Chris sat quietly for a few more minutes, wrapped in his own brooding thoughts. Buck was understandably subdued, and Vin seemed as though he was going out of his way to avoid the gunslinger. As for Mary Travis…Chris had no answer to that at the moment. The expression of pity and betrayal on her face when she handed him the letter hurt him more he thought it would, and he didn’t know what he was going to say to her.
He sighed. Too many of his bridges were burning around him, and he wondered whether he had left it too late to extinguish the flames.
Only time would tell.
The End
