"Who...are...you?" the Warden rasped.
Chris stood rigid. "Inmate 78." He stepped over the
body whose face was twisted in the final, agonized throes of death.
Funny, Chris mused, he didn't even recall the Warden's name.
It was finally over. Quince and the Warden were dead.
But was he free? His mind distantly heard the shouting and the gunfire,
but to him they both sounded as if they were miles away. He felt himself
disconnecting regardless of how hard he concentrated. He was so damn
tired he could barely put one foot in front of the other, his body one
massive ache. Stumbling out into the main field, a dazed Chris couldn't
stop shivering. It had been raining all day and most of the night and his
clothes hung damp and cold on his thin frame.
His disjointed thoughts told him to escape. The
punishment for killing the Sheriff and the Warden was bound to be severe.
A crazed, lopsided smirk broke over his face as he weaved drunkenly to a
halt. He distantly heard someone shouting.
Buck spotted him first, though for a moment he didn't
recognize his old friend. The slight, bearded figure stood there in the
dim light as the smoke from the recent gunfire slipped around him. Then
Buck knew.
"Chris!" He ran towards him catching him just as Chris'
strength finally gave out. Buck was horrified at how gaunt he was. The
man had had barely enough meat on his bones before, now Chris felt as if
he weighed no more than a thin rail. Buck saw Vin racing towards him.
"Get Nathan!" he shouted but Vin came on.
"Nathan's been hit," he informed Buck. Vin glanced at
Chris' limp form and grimaced at his condition. He berated himself for
not acting sooner. Damn, they should have known something was wrong. He
clamped down on his guilt. "How is he?"
"How the hell am I supposed to know!" Buck snapped back
and immediately regretted it. "Sorry."
Vin nodded. He understood Buck's fear for his friend.
He felt it too. He caught a shadow in his peripheral vision and spun,
weapon drawn as another pale figure carefully approached them wearing a
top hat.
The tall man, maybe made more so by his hat, knelt
briefly down beside them. "I'm the nearest thing to a doctor there is
around here." He stood, the chains on his ankles clanking loudly.
"Follow me."
Buck and Vin exchanged glances and then complied. Buck
lifted Chris easily in his arms. Chris' limp, pale face lolled against
his shoulder. "Damn it, Chris, you were supposed to be having fun in a
brothel," he admonished his friend quietly, trying to fight his fear with
a weak jest. He had been trying to protect Chris, giving him the space he
required to cope with what happened in Eagle Bend. Chris had needed it
badly and Buck thought he was doing the right thing keeping the others
away but it had all gone so horribly wrong.
The man in the top hat pointed to a bed as he brought
them into the makeshift infirmary. "Put him there."
Ezra, supporting the wounded Nathan, followed them in
and eased him down onto the bed beside Chris. That done, he caught a
glimpse of Chris and a sharp stab of horror caught him at how much the man
had changed in just two weeks. Prison had been a harsh taskmaster. Ezra
himself had danced briefly a time or two with incarceration. He was
suddenly extremely grateful he had never come to a place like this.
"My name's ...," the top-hatted doctor hesitated as if
struggling to remember, "...Simmons." He checked Chris quickly over.
"He's alright, just weak with exhaustion, I'd say. Good thing he got out
of that pit when he did. He wouldn't have lasted another day in
there."
Buck's anger snapped and he grabbed the prisoner by this
thin, dirty shirt. "ALRIGHT!? You call this alright?!" He felt
overwhelming guilt at not coming to Chris' aid sooner. God, he even had
laughed about it back in Four Corners, dismissing everyone's concern as if
it meant nothing to him. He had let Chris down again. The devastating
agony of that fact ate at his very soul.
The prisoner hardly flinched and met Buck's furious
gaze. "I didn't do anything. It was just my job to patch him up. His
stubborn pride did that, not me." Buck's anger ebbed slowly, his face
haunted with contrition as he released the prisoner. Simmons nodded at
Chris. "Get him out of those wet clothes and get him warm. I'll check on
the other fellow." He moved towards Nathan.
Nathan had already removed his shirt with Ezra's help
and was trying to peer over his shoulder at the wound. He couldn't see it
but he could feel it. The bullet was rubbing against his shoulder blade.
He was gonna need some help getting it out.
"Do you have any laudanum on hand?" Ezra asked the
"doctor."
Simmons laughed. "Laudanum!," he exclaimed. He grabbed
a bottle of whiskey off the table. "This is the only pain killer here and
there's not enough of it to drink. It's best used for sterilizing." Ezra
was appalled and Nathan swallowed with some difficulty. Simmons gestured
to his other patient as Buck removed Chris' shirt and grimaced at the
severe bruises and wounds on his friend's body. "I do fine work. Just
ask your friend here when he wakes up." He pointed to the jagged four
inch but precisely stitched wound in Chris' side.
Nathan drew in a deep breath, horrified at what Chris
had gone through and what he himself was about to undergo. "Let's just
get this over with."
Ezra handed him his precious, silver whisky flask with
much sympathy. "Here, you need this more than I do. I do not envy you,
my friend."
"Figures," Nathan groaned. "I finally get shot and I
get stuck with the doctor from hell. Should've bought that damn medical
kit." Simmons grinned a rotting smile at him.
+ + + + + + +
Chris awoke to familiar sounds, shovels and pix axes
striking dirt and stone, sounds that over the past weeks had become
ingrained into his very being. His eyes snapped open and he recognized
his location with distress. He tried to sit up only to have a hand hold
him back.
"Rest easy, Chris."
Chris turned in surprise to see Buck. A grin of pure
relief spread over his face. He reached out and grabbed his friend's arm.
"Buck," he exclaimed. He had almost given up hope of rescue.
Buck grinned back at him, his own eyes moistening. He
shook his head. "You know ol' pard, I leave you alone for just a bit and
look what happens to you."
"What the hell took you so long?" Chris groused not
entirely serious. Buck bit back his hurt at the statement. Chris noticed
the look and moved on. "You are here to get me out, aren't you? You
didn't go and get yourself arrested too."
Buck tried to laugh. "Hell no. Prison wouldn't agree
with me. No women."
Chris eased himself to a sitting position "What time is
it?"
"About 8 o'clock. You only slept the night. We'll
leave as soon as you're able."
Vin entered the tent with two plates of food. He handed
one to Buck and the other to Chris. "Mornin'," he greeted, eying Chris
critically. "You look better."
Chris grinned weakly at him. "And you're a liar." He
looked down in shock to see scrambled eggs and salted ham.
"I figured you were tired of gruel and beans. The
warden seemed to be eating rather well so we borrowed some. He didn't
seem to mind."
Chris shook his head, sobering slightly, the image of
the Warden's face still burned into his mind. "No, can't say that he
would."
"Damn, Chris," Vin said softly. "Remind me not to get
you angry." He had seen the bodies at the pit. It hadn't taken him long
to decipher what had happened.
Pushing the memory away, Chris dug into the food. With
the first mouthful his appetite came back in a rush though to his
disappointment he couldn't eat all of it. His stomach had shrunk so
during his incarceration but he ate enough to satisfy his current
nursemaids. He passed his plate to Buck. "What I'd really love is to get
cleaned up." He ran a hand through his hair still matted with blood and
dirt. The smell of the prison wafted all around him.
"There's a bath tub in the Warden's cabin. I'll fill
it," Buck said. He left calling for JD to help him.
Chris leaned carefully back against the metal frame,
wincing as every bone in his body protested. He noticed Nathan in the
other bed, still asleep. "He okay?" he inquired of Vin.
The tall bounty hunter nodded. "He had a hell of a
night but I think he'll be alright. It'll be best for both of you to get
out of here and back to Four Corners."
"What's going on outside?"
"Josiah's going over the Warden's records with a man
named Philips. Looks like Quince and the Warden's little scheme trapped a
bunch of innocent men here in addition to you." He arched an eyebrow and
gave Chris one of his famous smiles. "You are innocent, right?"
Chris laughed and then winced as a bruised rib
protested. "How did you find me?"
Vin related the tale watching as eventually Chris' eyes
slipped closed. He kept speaking unsure whether Chris was awake or not,
not that it mattered. He smiled again. There was time enough to bring
Chris back up to speed.
Within the hour Buck had the bath ready and Vin roused
Chris. He opened bleary eyes and then eased himself to his feet. He
hissed sharply through his teeth as his left knee protested. The Warden
had been too deadly accurate with his club. Chris noted he wore a pair of
clean prison pants and a shirt. He drew a hand over the faded new number.
It seemed odd.
Buck wrapped a blanket around Chris' shoulders against
the chill morning air. He frowned that Chris didn't even fight him on it.
That wasn't like the man. Chris came out of his daze, blinking slightly.
They steadied him all the way to the tent flap and then Chris shrugged
them off and walked carefully to the cabin, grateful to be able to take a
full stride without the confining tether of the chains. He gazed out over
the prison yard which was filled with prisoners some of which were working
even though there weren't many guards to force them. It had become habit
to them. When they noticed Chris, they started hitting their tools
against the stones as they had before. It started slow and then echoed
around the yard, an acknowledgement of the change he had wrought.
Chris stopped for a moment. It was the last thing he
expected from them, but he had learned alot of things these last few days.
He had been running when he came to Jericho. After what happened in Eagle
Bend, he had left Four Corners, not on some errand as he told the others
but to escape the ghosts of the past. He was tempted never to return, to
just disappear again and forget about the needs of everyone else and
concentrate on his own. The pain had drove him so hard and with such
agony that all he had wanted to do was drown himself in the bottle once
more, like he had so many years ago. Fowler had ripped his soul out by
the roots and Chris had felt so hollow inside that he couldn't bear to be
near anyone, especially Mary and the others.
But in the Jericho prison he had learned to live again, to live
without the bottle as a means to drown out the harsh pain of reality. He
had remembered that the fight for the rights of others was still a noble
cause. Even here where the scum of society lived, where one's civil
rights suddenly became more precious than gold or money, human life was
important.
Vin and Buck stood close beside Chris though neither of
them offered a hand. They were amazed at what they were witnessing. Buck
almost laughed. He should have known Chris would have ingratiated himself
even here in the filthiest of prisons. That was Chris' forte, Buck and
the rest a living testament to that fact. Men believed in him, followed
him because the man had the courage to stand for something, to take on the
stuff nightmares were born of -- and win.
JD, standing guard near the gate, watched the
proceedings with his mouth agape. He had never seen anything like this
before. Chris Larabee stood in the distance still standing tall despite
what he had endured. The Sheriff last night had called the six of them
the "Larabee Gang." Suddenly, JD swelled with pride. He liked the sound
of that. It was an honor to be linked with such a man. It's why he had
come west.
+ + + + + + +
Vin leaned against the cabin door, one ear cocked inside
as Chris cleaned up. He wanted to make sure Chris didn't fall asleep
again. As long as he heard splashing he was content. He drew in a deep
slow breath at the memory of seeing the bruises on his friend. The man
had suffered hell and more at the hands of the Warden. The bastard was
lucky he was already dead for Vin would have done the job if Chris
hadn't.
It would take a while for Chris to recuperate from this.
In the meantime, Vin was willing to take the mantel of leader. He felt
obliged to do so. The others had seemed willing to let him lead during
the search for Chris, so he doubted anyone would object. He just hoped
that Chris was willing to let his body heal. He needed time. Vin had
known him long enough to sense that Chris had a devil-may-care attitude
regarding his own well being, sometimes taking chances that were foolish.
He still recalled the time when Chris stepped blatantly out into the
street as Morgan Coltrane galloped straight towards him, guns firing. The
way Chris had strode down the street towards almost certain death, firing
his own weapon so methodically made Vin wince at the memory. Chris had
been lucky that night. He seemed so willing to stare death straight in
the face.
Buck came up disturbing the rest of Vin's thoughts. He
carried a bucket full of hot water. Vin opened the door for him.
"Thanks, pard," Buck said slipping past him sloshing a bit of water on
both of them. Vin smiled more at Buck's devotion to Chris than for his
clumsiness. Buck always seemed to be there for Chris. He knew they had a
past but little else. Even though Chris tended to try and keep Buck at
arm's length that bond between them was still as strong as ever.
+ + + + + + +
Two hours later they all stood in the main courtyard of
the prison, their horses saddled and ready to go. Chris looked remarkably
better, dressed in his own clothes sans his black duster, his clean, wet
hair slicked back. His clothes made him look far thinner than usual and
only highlighted the dark, exhausted circles under his eyes.
Vin decided they'd take him home slowly. He listened to
Josiah calling off the innocent names in the ledger and watched the
stunned faces of the men who stepped forward. He was pleased to hear
Simmons' name called. They all owed him.
Those that weren't mounted did so and waited patiently
for Chris who was speaking with Philips. Then Chris took his reins and
mounted, laying his black hat on with deliberate care and pleaure. "Boys,
let's get the hell out of here," he said tightly, his eyes centering on
the gates of freedom before him. He glanced at each of the six men beside
him who had fought death to win him back his liberty. He wanted to say
thank you but his throat struggled convulsively against the sudden swell
of emotion.
As if reading the moment, Nathan nodded knowingly,
urging his mount slowly forward. Josiah winked gently at Chris. Vin rode
past next, that light smile of his present. He spurred his horse faster
taking the lead. Buck rode beside his old friend, as always his brother's
keeper. Ezra tipped his hat to Chris as he slipped past while JD took up
the rear his eyes bright with respect. There was no need for anyone to
say anything. They all knew Chris would have done the same for each of
them.
As they rode towards the gates, Chris noticed the
Lawless brothers standing nearby. He tipped his hat and they nodded back,
the pain of their grief sated now that they understood each other better.
For Chris, it was one less ounce of guilt to carry.
A sense of relief swept over him as they passed through
the wood and wire structure and then Chris was free, moving down the dusty
road back towards the town they all called home. It almost made him reel
in the saddle until JD trotted up alongside Chris.
"So have you heard the one about the three-legged
dog....." A collective groan echoed across the valley. "What!?" the kid
exclaimed to the others. "I heard laughter was the best medicine!"
