He saw the fire raging and heard the cries of his wife and only son pleading for him to
come and rescue them.
"Chriiiiiis - !"
"Pa - !"
For some reason, he couldn't quite reach them. Something unseen was holding him back as
he struggled to break loose. Their shrieks grew louder and more desperate as the flames
lapped at the night sky.
He could see their faces, arms outstretched to him. Just as he touched them, they
dissolved into the flames like paper dolls, their mouths open in silent, anguished wails.
Chris was asleep in his shack when he awoke screaming. He sat up, sweating and gasping.
He squeezed his eyes shut as the images slowly faded away.
The nightmares had started again. They were always triggered by three annual events:
his marriage, his son's birth, or his family's death. This time it was the latter. He had
almost stopped sleeping altogether over the past couple of weeks to keep the nightmares at
bay.
The next morning, Buck passed Chris on the street. Chris looked like he hadn't slept at
all the night before. Or any of several nights.
"Mornin', Chris," said Buck. "You look dog-tired. Still havin' those
nightmares?" Chris nodded but said nothing. " Maybe you oughta take somethin'
for that." Buck was more concerned than he wanted to let on.
"I'll be all right," said Chris, walking away.
JD and Vin came up to Buck. Vin watched as Chris disappeared down the street.
"Still not sleepin'? Can't keep going like this."
Buck shrugged. "I told him he oughta do somethin' about it. What can you do?"
JD pondered that awhile.
It was late when JD entered the near-empty saloon and took a position at one end of the
bar.
"Hey, Pard, buy a drink for an old sawbones?" A voice spoke from the shadows
to his left.
At first glance, it appeared to be a pile of dirty laundry stuffed into a chair in the
corner. In the half-light, JD barely made out a grizzled-looking old man sitting at the
table. He might have been in his 50s or 60s but years of hard living made him look even
older.
"You're a doctor?" JD smiled in amusement.
The laundry pile rearranged itself in the chair. "Retired. A doctor in the war,
Sonny. Bring that bottle over here and an extra glass, and I'll tell ya all about it.
Folks call me Doc Weed."
JD shrugged, sat down, and poured for both of them. "A friend of mine was a
stretcher-bearer in the war. Maybe you know him? Nathan Jackson. "
The old man paused, his soft, wrinkled face twisted in concentration.
"Jackson . . . Oh! Nathan Jackson, you say! Sure, sure. I know him. Good friend of
mine. Everybody knew ol' - Nathan, was it? How is he?"
"I can get 'im for ya." JD started to rise.
Doc Weed caught his arm. "Now, now, Sonny, there's no hurry. Let's finish our
drinks first and then we can go lookin' for ol' Nathan."
"Say . . . you bein' a doc and all . . . what would you suggest for someone who
ain't sleepin'?"
The old man chuckled, downed the whiskey in one gulp and smiled in satisfaction.
"I got somethin' for that." He reached into a dirty, cracked leather medical bag
by his feet and held up a small bottle. "Best sleepin' medicine around. Powerful
stuff there, son. Guaranteed. Better'n whisky. Just take one swallow of it when ye
feel the need." He winked at JD. "I make it myself, my own secret
concoction."
JD reached for the bottle, but the old man pulled back.
"It'll cost ya. A dollar." Doc Weed noticed JD's hesitation. "Strongest
stuff you'll find anywhere. Only ya cain't 'cause I make it my own self."
JD pondered it a moment. That was a lot of money when a fella was only making a dollar
a day. But everyone was worried about Chris, including him. JD reluctantly handed over his
days' pay and pocketed the bottle.
It wasn't until late the next night that JD saw Chris heading into the saloon for one
last drink before heading to his shack in the hills. JD knew he'd been spending all
his nights there since the nightmares began. He fingered the small bottle in his pocket.
He felt a pang of doubt about giving it to Chris. He didn't really know the doc, after
all. But JD had tried a little of the drug last night and he felt fine this morning. So
maybe it would be all right. If he were able to help Chris when no one else could, he'd be
a hero to everyone, especially Chris. And besides, if the doc and Nathan were old
friends . . .
He stood beside Chris at the bar. "Can I buy you a drink?"
Chris shrugged. "Why?"
"Why not?" JD filled Chris's glass, then his own. He took the small bottle
out of his pocket and opened it. "I got this for you to help you sleep."
Chris looked at it and turned back to his drink. "No thanks."
"But if you'd just try it - "
Chris shook his head.
This wasn't going well at all. As far as JD could see, this was the only thing that was
going to work and Chris wasn't cooperating. If he'd just try it, JD was sure he'd see that
this could help him.
"I got it from a doc. A friend of Nathan's." He nodded at Doc Weed, who was
asleep in the same chair JD had found him in the night before.
As Chris turned to look over his shoulder at the doc, JD quickly reached out and poured
a few drops of the liquid into Chris's glass. Chris turned back to the bar, tossed the
shot back and set the empty glass down.
"Thanks for the drink. I'll be fine."
You will now, JD thought, as he watched Chris leave.
The following morning, JD saw Chris again, sitting outside the hotel. "Mornin'!
How'd you sleep?"
Chris eyed him curiously. "Slept all right."
"I knew it," said JD. He pulled the bottle out of his pocket. "I
slipped a little of this in your drink last night."
Chris's eyes narrowed as he looked at the bottle in JD's hand. He stood up, his eyes
inches from JD's. "Never do that to me again," he said in a low voice of
controlled fury. He turned abruptly and started to walk toward the jail in long, fast
strides.
JD trotted alongside, explaining hastily. "I knew it would help you if you'd just
try it. I tried a little myself first. It's all right." He stopped in front of Chris
and held out the medicine bottle. "Take it."
Chris glanced at it and shook his head. "JD, I don't need - "
"It worked, didn't it? You just said so. Beats another sleepless night, don't it?
Well, don't it?"
Chris reluctantly accepted the bottle with a sigh and continued on his way. JD watched
him go, enjoying the completion of a successful mission.
Chris held Adam's warm hand tightly in his. Adam was slowly being drawn into the blaze.
Chris tried to hold on but one by one, he felt the tiny fingers slipping away,
disappearing into the flames.
As he had so many nights before, Chris woke to his own screams. His body trembled all
over as he raked shaking fingers through his blond hair. This had to stop. His eye caught
the small bottle JD had given him on the table shining in the moonlight. JD should never
have given it to him like that. As annoyed as he was about it, Chris couldn't fault JD's
intentions. And, as much as he hated to admit it, it had worked. Last night was the first
time in many nights he'd escaped the torturous dreams.
He reached for the bottle. He had a pretty good idea what it was, but it didn't matter
anymore. The nightmares were occurring with frightening regularity and his lack of sleep
was making it harder and harder to distinguish nightmares from reality. His entire body
had begun to ache constantly from lack of sleep and facing one more night like this was
more than he could bear. Anything was better than another night like this. Anything.
At last, he thought, feeling the drug's soft warmth begin to radiate throughout his
body, something to ease the pain of memory. Then sleep claimed him.
Over the next couple of weeks, changes in Chris were becoming more noticeable. He had
lost some weight from his already-lean frame. At times his eyes drooped and he seemed
almost groggy. And he had developed a deep, wracking cough that shook his whole body.
It was during one of these coughing fits that Vin eyed him carefully. He raised one
eyebrow, asking "You feelin' all right?"
Chris nodded between coughs, then smiled. It was an odd, humorless smile. "I feel
just fine."
"You do look a little pale," said Nathan.
"Never better," Chris assured them, then headed down the street.
"What was that?" Buck asked softly. "Now, y'all saw that, right? That
smile? Next time you see him, he'll be irritable as hell. Been like that for days. Like to
drive a body crazy."
"Somethin' ain't right," Nathan agreed.
Four weeks had passed since JD had bought Doc Weed's sleeping concoction. Vin rode up
to the saloon just as Buck, JD, Josiah, Ezra, and Nathan were coming out. "Any of you
seen Chris?" he asked.
Buck frowned. "Haven't seen him for several days, come to think of it."
"He don't come in town much," said Nathan. "Not lately, anyway."
Buck shrugged. "Maybe he's stayin' up at the shack. You know Chris."
Vin nodded. "Maybe. I'm goin' up there to check on him."
The others mounted up to follow.
When they arrived at the shack later that morning, it was very still.
Buck called out. "Chris!"
No answer.
"Maybe he's asleep?" JD suggested. "He should be sleepin' just fine.
Thanks to me."
They looked at him for a moment, then Buck quickly led the way inside. The closed
windows had made the air inside warm and stale. Ezra wrinkled his nose and opened a couple
of windows. The room appeared to be empty.
"Howdy, boys."
They found Chris sitting on the floor with his back slumped against the wall. He hadn't
shaved in a few days and it seemed as if he'd been sleeping in the same clothes for at
least that time. He smiled a strange, almost giddy grin. He coughed then, his entire body
convulsing.
"Is he drunk?" JD wouldn't have been surprised if he were.
Vin crouched in front of Chris, noting the tiny pupils in his green eyes.
"Drugged."
Ezra showed Vin a small, half-empty bottle of clear liquid. "Found this on the
floor. If you'll look by the bed, you'll see this isn't the only one either. The others
are empty."
Buck stared at it in surprise. "Now where do you suppose he got those?"
Vin signaled for the guys to follow him outside. He showed Nathan the bottle.
"Ever seen this before? There's more in there."
Nathan shook his head. He sniffed the bottle's contents. "Smells
like . . . morphine and alcohol."
JD recognized the bottle. "Morphine? But I gave him - "
Buck pounced on JD, his dark blue eyes flashing. "Gave him what!?"
"Just something to help him sleep." JD looked at each of them in turn.
"It's all right. I got it from a doctor. Calls himself Doc Weed. But I only got one
bottle, I swear!"
Nathan nodded grimly. "I remember a Doc Weed, all right. The one I knew was an
Army doc and a drunk. We needed doctors bad back then. Probably lost more men to docs like
him than to the other side. Last I heard he started drinking a mixture of his own that he
made up during the war. Didn't know he was sellin' it."
"He told me he was a friend of yours," said JD.
"The only name he ever knew me by was 'Boy.'" Nathan handed the bottle back
to Vin and sighed. "It doesn't take long to get hooked on this stuff. The more you
take, the more you want. And if Chris has been taking it even a couple of times a day for
all these weeks . . . There's only one thing we can do."
"Gonna be hard," said Josiah.
"Withdrawal gets worse over the first few days. After that, the next couple of
days get a little better."
"Gentlemen," said Ezra, "let me play Devil's advocate for a moment here.
Should we really be involved in this? It seems to me that Mr. Larrabee has made his own
decisions. Lots of people are - shall we say - self-medicated without terminal
adverse affects. I am merely suggesting that perhaps our intervention is not wanted or
needed."
"I've known men to die from an overdose," said Nathan. "Or breathing
just slows till it stops."
"Besides which, it slows your reflexes," said Buck. "And a slow
gunfighter ain't a live one."
Vin spoke up. "Over the next few days, then, there should be at least one of us
here. We'll work in shifts."
JD started to say something. Buck eyed him coldly. "You've helped enough," he
said quietly.
Chris was on his feet when they filed back inside. "What's goin' on? Vin?"
Ezra spoke up. "We know about the 'medication.' And the effects it's having
on you."
Vin held up bottle. "You're hooked on it. We can all see that. You know it,
too."
"It's none of your concern," said Chris.
"We're makin' it our concern," Buck replied calmly.
"We're here to help you beat it," said Nathan. "We don't think you can
do it yourself."
"What are you plannin' to do?" Chris looked at them warily.
"Sorry but, as of now, you can't have it anymore," said Vin.
"I'll get rid of it," said Buck. Vin handed him the bottle.
"No!" Chris panicked. The stomach cramps were already starting. He lunged for
his Colt and managed to grab it before landing on his knees. He pointed the gun at Buck,
his eyes glittering.
Buck spoke softly. "You gonna shoot me, Chris? Over what?" He held the bottle
up. "Over this?"
"Give it to me. And get out."
"Can't do that."
Chris's hand began to shake. He gripped the gun with both hands, but it was no use. It
clattered to the floor. Vin quickly picked it up and handed it to Ezra. Chris hunched over
in pain and retched on the floor.
Buck grabbed JD by the neck. "Take a good look. I want you to remember this."
"JD, go outside," ordered Josiah.
"No! He needs to see this."
"Chris doesn't need to be seen like this."
Buck shoved JD towards the door. "Get out." Buck tossed the bottle to JD.
"And get rid of this."
JD stumbled out the door, glad to be out of there.
That evening, Ezra poked his head into the saloon looking for JD. He was right on the
money.
"Ezra!" JD greeted him with drunken joviality. "Have a drink?"
Ezra shook his head. "Perhaps later."
JD squinted up at Ezra. "I only wanted to help him. I helped, all right." JD
laughed bitterly, ending with a hiccup. "He wasn't supposed to take so much," he
muttered. "Why did he do that? Surely he had to know . . . " He shook his head.
"If you would be so kind as to lower your voice. The patrons of this establishment
do not need to know Mr. Larrabee's business. Come on. It's time we took our leave."
He grabbed JD's arm.
JD pulled loose. "At least I tried to do something for him! You guys weren't doin'
anything! And I'll leave when I'm ready."
"Trust me. You're ready." Ezra took his arm firmly and steered JD out of the
saloon.
The first day without the morphine had been uncomfortable for Chris, but Day Two was
worse. The classic symptoms of withdrawal were becoming more apparent with each passing
hour. To an outsider, it looked like a bad case of the flu.
He alternated between chills and sweats. His muscles began to cramp painfully. His
stomach cramped, too, and he had lost his appetite completely. Although he was yawning,
Chris became increasingly fidgety and irritable. Nathan came by when he could, but a flu
epidemic in the Indian village kept him busy. Ezra had tried a few hands of cards to help
distract Chris from his misery. Josiah had brought him a few books. Most of the time Chris
tried to sleep but only succeeded in moving restlessly on the bed.
Vin was restless, too. It wasn't his watch but he hated to be too far away, just in
case. He knew Buck and Josiah were already there. As he arrived, Buck was sitting on the
porch, having tried unsuccessfully to involve Chris in a game of checkers.
"How is he?"
"The same," said Buck. "Josiah's inside. "
Vin walked in and waited for his eyes to adjust to the shadowy light of late afternoon.
Josiah noticed the strain in Vin's face. He put a hand on Vin's shoulder as he was
leaving. "Things got a way of takin' care of themselves. With the Good Lord's help,
of course."
It was just Chris and Vin now. Chris stood up slowly and edged toward the door.
"You can't keep me here like this."
"Chris, we're tryin' to help you."
"I don't need your help. I just need Doc Weed's."
"Look at yourself! You can't keep doin' this. You'll kill yourself or someone'll
do it for you!"
"Get outta the way, Vin." He shoved Vin aside as hard as he could. Despite
Chris's weakened condition, Vin was caught slightly off-guard and stumbled sideways. Chris
leapt at him with a wild cry, knocking him to the floor.
Chris straightened and spun toward the door. He dove for it awkwardly as Vin threw his
arms around Chris's waist to stop his escape. They stumbled forward. Chris grabbed at the
door, but only succeeded in putting his hand through one of the glass panes. Blood dripped
from the shards. Vin lost his balance and fell backward, pulling Chris on top of him. The
two of them fell heavily to the floor.
Chris rolled off Vin and lay there a moment, his blond hair falling over his eyes. It
was obvious the morphine was still having its effect. He looked at his bloodied hand in
wonder but not pain. Then he slowly looked at Vin. With a cry, he lunged at Vin, trying to
choke him.
"Dammit, Chris!" Vin shouted, desperately trying to fight him off. "Stop
fightin' me! I don't want to hurt you!"
They struggled on the floor. Buck and Josiah were about to ride back to town when they
heard the crash of breaking glass. They charged inside and were on Chris in a flash, each
grabbing an arm and hauling him off of Vin. Vin sat up and scooted back along the floor,
just out of Chris's reach. Chris was still struggling. It took the three of them together
to finally get Chris on the bed, his wrists tied to the iron railings at the head of the
bed.
"Get Nathan," Vin ordered, wrapping his bandanna around Chris's bleeding
hand. Buck hurried from the shack.
"I was afraid of something like this," said Nathan as he brushed past Vin. He
put his medical bag on the table and sat on the bed next to Chris. His brown eyes were
filled with concern. "Chris, you gotta beat this thing." Nathan glanced up at
Buck. "Best untie him."
Buck shook his head. "You didn't see. He was like a wildcat before."
Nathan was insistent. "He might hurt himself when the withdrawal symptoms get
worse. He's gonna be too miserable to be much trouble."
"They get worse?" said Buck incredulously as he untied the ropes.
"Come over here and let me take a look at that hand, Chris."
Chris moved almost as if in a dream as Nathan led him over to the table. He collapsed
into an empty chair and allowed Nathan to gently unwrap the bandanna from his hand so
Nathan could clean and bandage his cuts.
Buck bent close to Nathan's ear and lowered his voice. "I don't know how much
more of this I can take. Or he can."
"Well, we gotta do somethin'," Nathan whispered back. "You seen what it
does to a man. We've all seen it - in the war. You want Chris back, this may be the
only way."
Day Three was the worst of it. The sweats and chills were more intense, along with the
muscle pain and stomach cramps. JD stayed away from the shack. He often rode within sight
of it, but remained hidden, too far away to hear anything. He didn't think anyone would
have been happy to see him there, under the circumstances. From his vantage point, he
could see Buck sitting on the porch having a smoke. Vin came riding up, dismounted, and
sat beside Buck.
"Nathan comin'?" said Buck.
"He had patients to see at the Indian village."
Buck gazed at some far point in the distance, his eyes full of pain. "I've known
Chris a lotta years . . . Seein' him like this...It tears out a little piece o' my gut
every time..." Buck shook his head. "That in there . . . that's not the Chris
Larrabee I know . . . but I don't know how much more of this I can take. I don't think I
can watch him suffer like this."
"What choice is there? None of us likes seein' him like this. But if it'll help
him, we've got to try. Way I see it, we owe him that much."
Buck nodded, then got up and rode back to town.
Vin met Ezra outside when he arrived for his turn. Vin warned him that Chris
wasn't doing too well but, when Ezra finally went inside, he was still surprised by
what he saw. Chris's eyes looked sunken and fevered, and he was shaking all over.
Vin noticed Ezra's expression. He signaled for Ezra to follow him outside. "Yeah,
he's pretty bad, but maybe he'll start getting better soon. Can you handle it?"
"Oh - oh sure."
Vin was unconvinced. "If I see him, I'll ask Josiah to stop by in case you need a
hand."
Ezra nodded. He watched Vin ride away.
When Ezra went back inside, he found Chris sitting on the edge of the bed. The hot
flashes must have been unbearable because he was clawing at his shirt as if trying to tear
it off.
Ezra firmly pushed Chris's hands away. "There is no point in destroying a
perfectly functional article of clothing," he said, unbuttoning the shirt for him.
Chris slipped out of it and collapsed on the bed. After watching Chris thrash about for
several minutes in a futile effort to be comfortable, Ezra finally fetched a cloth and
some water. He applied the damp cloth gently to Chris's fevered skin. Chris drifted into a
fitful sleep.
An hour later, Ezra noticed the chills had begun. Chris was shivering so hard his teeth
were chattering even as he slept. Ezra pulled the blanket over him, knowing it would be
abandoned when the hot flashes returned.
It was going to be a long afternoon. Ezra pulled out a deck of cards for a game of
solitaire.
That night, Vin leaned in the doorway of the shack, listening. He always liked the
sounds of nature at night. Josiah would have said he was meditating, but he liked to think
of it as just pondering. He heard a movement out of the darkness.
"What're you doin' here, JD?"
"How'd you know it was me?" JD asked as he emerged from the shadows.
"Everybody knows. You've been skulking around here for over two days now."
"I-I wanted to see Chris. In private."
"He ain't receivin' visitors."
"Vin, please. I just want to talk to him."
"Chris is doin' poorly right now. Maybe in a few days."
"I'd rather see him now."
Vin studied him a moment. "Buck'll be here in a little while. He ain't happy with
you right now, so you'd best be gone, hear?" He stepped outside and walked a short
distance from the shack. From the corner of his eye, he could see JD slip inside.
JD entered softly and brought the lamp over to the bed. Nothing prepared him for what
he saw. Chris lay on his side, his whole body shivering in near-convulsions on the
sweat-soaked sheets.
"Chris?"
"JD?" Chris opened his eyes slightly. His hand shook as he caught JD's sleeve
in a grip no stronger than a kitten's. His voice was barely a whisper. " . . . help
me . . . "
JD looked into the pain-filled green eyes. He knew what Chris was asking.
"No! I'm not helping you anymore. Besides, they'd kill me!"
"Just a little. For the pain."
"I can't. Please don't ask me to," he choked. "Isn't there something
else I can do to help?"
"That's the only thing that will help." Chris groaned, drawing his knees to
his chest. "JD . . . you started this . . . " he whispered, then grimaced as the
stomach cramps intensified.
JD watched helplessly. "Why did you have to make me part of this?" he flared
angrily, getting to his feet. "I only wanted - not this!"
Chris fell back against the mattress and closed his eyes. His face was beaded with
sweat. He lay curled in a ball, moaning softly.
It was more than JD could bear to watch. He knew the guys were trying to help but there
must have been a better way. He put his hands in his pockets and found the half-full
bottle still in his pocket. He'd forgotten to get rid of it. Maybe just a little bit
wouldn't do any harm. Just this once, to ease some of the pain. How bad could that be?
Chris has already suffered over two days. A little bit couldn't make that much difference.
JD slowly removed the bottle from his pocket. He pulled out the stopper and held it out to
Chris.
"What the hell you doin'?!" Vin appeared behind him, snatching the
bottle out of his hand. Chris made a grab for it at the same time and toppled off the bed.
He lay on the floor groaning. "Can't you see what we're tryin' to do here?"
"He's in so much pain - Look at him!" JD cried. "How do you stand it?
How can you stand to see him like this?"
"You don't think about what it's doing to you," said Vin, bending to
help Chris back onto the bed. "You think about what it's doing to him."
Buck grabbed JD by the back of his jacket and dragged him out the door.
"'Scuze us while we have a little confab outside" he said over his shoulder
to Vin.
Buck dragged JD several yards from the building before he suddenly struck JD hard in
the face. JD wiped blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. The next blow hit him
in the stomach, knocking him to the ground. Buck was shaking with fury. He knelt over JD,
grabbing him by the throat and punched him repeatedly. One eye began to swell shut and
JD's nose was bleeding. Buck's fist drew back for another blow when it was stopped by
Ezra.
"I think you've made your point."
"What're you doin' here?"
"I left my - er - 'lucky' deck behind after my nursemaid duties
earlier." He pointed at JD. "Is it your intention to beat him to death?"
Buck stood up, breathing heavily. He looked at Ezra. "Get him outta here."
Ezra helped JD off the ground and half-carried him toward the horses.
"OW!"
"Hold still." Ezra dabbed some more iodine on one of the cuts on JD's face.
It seemed to Ezra that he'd spent a lot of his time lately being a nursemaid to
someone - a most unprofitable venture. "You know, you're fortunate Mr. Wilmington
didn't kill you. "
"Well, it sure felt like he was tryin' to - OW!"
"Sorry . . . Mr. Wilmington was understandably upset. Out of his concern for Mr.
Larrabee's well-being."
"I was tryin' to help!" JD said hotly. "How many times do I have to say
that?"
"Well, you certainly brought a lot of suffering to him, I'll say that for you.
"
"It could have been anyone of you made the same mistake. But nobody was doin'
anything. The man said he was a doctor! He said he was friend of Nathan's! As I remember,
Buck bought some stuff off a Chinese man out by the railroad to give Inez not too long
ago."
"Hold this. Right here. Keep your head back . . . Though your point is well taken,
the difference is that Mr. Wilmington purchased a harmless, common, herbal folk remedy.
You bought a potentially harmful narcotic of unknown origin." Ezra wiped his hands on
a towel. "Perhaps you can still redeem yourself by preventing this miscreant
physician from purveying any more of his elixir. I'll accompany you in the morning. I
might also suggest a low profile would be in order for you for awhile."
By the fourth day, Chris was showing signs of improvement. The stomach cramps were
milder, enough for Chris to start feeling hungry again. The sweating, shivering and muscle
cramps had also lessened, but withdrawal had taken its toll. He was very weak.
Vin brought him a bowl of thick soup and handed Chris a spoon. Chris tried to hold it
but he could not get his trembling fingers to obey.
"Here, I'll do it," said Vin, taking the spoon. "Open up."
"Forget it," Chris snapped, turning his head away. "I ain't hungry
anyway."
"You gonna starve yourself because of your pride? How long's it been since you
ate, anyway?"
Chris didn't respond.
Vin sighed. He understood Chris's frustration at feeling helpless. "Trust me, I
ain't used to doin' this any more than you are. So why don't you help me out so we can
both get this over with?"
Chris thought it over for a moment before finally turning to face him.
Vin managed to get him to eat most of the soup, but Chris didn't keep it down long. He
leaned over, vomiting in a bucket that had been placed there for the purpose. Vin put a
hand on Chris's shoulder to steady him until he was done. Chris fell back against the
pillow and closed his eyes.
"We'll try this again later," said Vin gently.
Chris nodded feebly.
JD and Ezra had searched all over town for Doc Weed, but no one had seen him. They
finally got a lead that the Doc had left a few weeks ago to go to a little border town
known as Carralendas. When they arrived a few hours later in the late afternoon, it did
not take long to locate Doc Weed's tiny room in the back of the cantina.
As they opened the door, the stench of death was almost overwhelming. Ezra pulled out a
handkerchief and held it to his nose.
The doc sat slumped over in a chair, his head back. He had been dead a day or two at
most. Several bottles similar to the ones Chris had were on the floor under his hand. An
empty liquor bottle lay by his foot.
"Obviously his elixir failed as a chaser," observed Ezra dryly.
JD stared. The body had bloated and turned a dark blue. The black tongue was swollen
and sticking out. The eyelids were pulled back from the staring eyes. JD took a deep
breath to keep the bile from rising in his throat.
"That - that could have been Chris . . . couldn't it?"
"Perhaps. Who knows? I wouldn't dwell on it." Ezra turned to leave.
"Come on. We need to alert the local constabulary of the doctor's demise."
"My god," he whispered. "I could have killed him by tryin' to help
him." JD stood there, shaken to his core.
When he and Ezra returned, JD did not go home right away. Instead, he headed for the
church and the small bedroom in back where Josiah slept.
"Josiah? Wake up."
"Huh? Wha - JD? Somethin' wrong? Is it Chris?" He started to get up.
"Yes. No. Not like that. I-I needed to talk. We found Doc Weed. He's dead."
"I see." Josiah stood up, went over to the dresser, poured a drink and put it
in JD's trembling hands. "Bad, huh?"
"Awful." He shuddered at the memory. "I don't want to think about it. Is
Chris gonna be all right?"
"Well, he's not gonna die, if that's what you mean. But he's gonna be mighty
uncomfortable for awhile. Perhaps a long while."
"I'd never do anything to hurt him! I respect him more than anyone else in the
world."
"We all know that. And when Chris gets better, he'll know it, too."
"But it's all my fault. That first time? He said he didn't want it, but I slipped
it in his drink anyway."
"That does change things a mite. But listen, JD, after that Chris had to know what
he was taking. "
JD would not be consoled. "I wanted to, you know, be a hero. Sort of."
"I believe it was Emerson who said 'Heroism feels and never reasons, and therefore
is always right.' You did what you did because of how you felt in your heart. Because of
that you believed in the rightness of doing what your head would tell you was a wrong
thing. Confucius said 'Boldness, without the rules of propriety, becomes insubordination.'
Do you see what I'm gettin' at?"
"You're just full of these, ain't you?"
"Point is if you're gonna give a man your respect, you can't just respect him for
what he does. You gotta respect what he says. That don't mean you always agree with it.
And it takes a lot of strength and courage to do that. One can't always be a hero, but one
can be a man."
On Day Five of their intervention effort, Chris was still improving, but he was still
weak. Ezra watched him, then left him alone when he saw Chris would manage to feed
himself.
Buck walked into the shack as Ezra was drying his hands on a towel after washing
dishes. An apron was tied at the gambler's waist.
"Oh, 'scuze me ma'am," Buck grinned, taking off his hat, "but is the man
of the house at home?"
"Very amusing."
"How's he doin'? He eat anything?"
"He did. Didn't keep much of it down, though." He studied his hands ruefully
and sighed. "My delicate skin has been violated by this intolerable soap."
Buck snickered at that as Ezra took off the apron, gathered his coat and hat, and left.
Buck and Chris stepped outside and sat on the porch.
"How ya feelin'?"
"Like hell."
"Ya look it." He glanced at the ground before continuing. "You knew what
that stuff was. You wanna tell me why?"
Chris said nothing for awhile. "When does it end? The nightmares, the pain, all of
it."
"I wish I knew. But tell me . . . did this help?"
Chris shook his head. "Seems like sometimes the cure is worse than the
sickness."
"Was hopin' you'd see it that way."
Two weeks had passed, and outwardly Chris was closer to his old self. He was even
starting to regain a little weight. Nobody said anything about it, but they knew that
inwardly a day didn't go by for Chris without a morphine craving. It would take time, but
he would recover.
Buck, Nathan, Josiah, and Ezra were seated outside the saloon when Chris came by. Vin
stood nearby, leaning against a post.
"Mornin', said Nathan. "How ya doin' today?"
"All right." He still looked weak and tired, but it was obvious to all of
them he was improving. He stood beside Vin. They watched folks come and go in silence for
a moment.
"Still havin' the nightmares?" asked Vin, in a low voice.
"They've stopped. For now."
"That's good."
"Look, about what you all did . . . "
"You're welcome." Vin paused. "Don't want to have to do it again,
though."
Chris nodded. "I hear ya. If you see JD, I'll be over at the jail for awhile."
"Right."
It was about half an hour later when JD finally joined them. He had stayed out of
everyone's way for awhile now, but Four Corners was a small town and he couldn't do that
forever.
"Chris is at the jail," said Vin in response to JD's unspoken question.
JD nodded and turned in that direction.
"When you're done there, you wanna join us for a drink?" said Buck.
JD looked surprised. "You don't hate me anymore?"
"I never hated ya. Oh, I was mad at you, all right. That man's like family to me,
if ya get my meanin'."
"I'm sorry, Buck."
"I know y'are, kid."
Chris was sitting at the desk, cleaning one of the rifles. He set it aside when JD came
in.
JD stood there a moment, afraid to look Chris in the eye.
"Somethin' on your mind, JD?"
JD knew that stare, and it wasn't making things any easier. "How you
feelin'?"
"You came here just to ask me that?"
"No. No, I didn't." He took a deep breath. "Chris, I know this won't
cover it, but I am so sorry. I shouldn't have started this whole thing. I never meant
to - "
"JD," Chris stood up and put the rifle back in it's rack. He sat on the edge
of the desk. "We have to get something straight between us. I decide what's best for
me, understand?"
"You coulda been dead now because of me! The man I look up to most in the world.
It's all my fault."
"Look, nobody makes me do nothin'. You oughta know that by now. You didn't make me
keep takin' it. So it's as much my fault as yours."
"I should probably go. I just wanted to make sure you were gonna be all right
first."
"If it helps ease your conscience, I forgive you. But you're gonna have to earn my
trust all over again."
"How?" JD asked miserably.
"We'll see. You gotta give it time."
JD brightened.
"But if I ever see anything like that in your hands again, I'll kill you
myself."
JD smiled at that but stopped when he looked at Chris. He decided he didn't ever want
to find out if Chris was serious or not.
The End
